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coloursflyaway · 4 months

Text

I And Love And You

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.200

Read on AO3

“Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.” Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between. “That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often.”

Edwin tells Charles he loves him again and again, until Charles can say it back.

The first time Edwin tells him he loves him is in 1993 when they are on a case and Charles has been stuck with reading one of the old texts they have at the office for so long that the unfamiliar letters are blurring before his eyes. He didn’t even realise that Edwin noticed he was struggling, but then there’s a soft voice next to his shoulder and a hand snatching the book from the desk in front of him.

“I’ll take care of this one, Charles”, he says, and when Charles turns around, Edwin already has his nose buried in the text, looking a lot less confused by it than Charles was feeling. “I love you”, Charles tells him without thinking, because it’s true every day, but he loves Edwin a little more just now.

And Edwin looks up from the book for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise, but then his expression softens, almost starts to glow. “I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles basks in it for the rest of the night.

The sixty-third time Edwin tells him he loves him is on the steps to Hell, only that it’s different now, means more and means the same simultaneously, and Charles says it back and means it and gets Edwin out of Hell, and truly, that is the only thing that matters.

The sixty-fourth time is on the roof of their building, a few weeks later, when they are looking out over the city. Crystal is with her parents, trying to build some kind of relationship from scratch, so it’s just them, and Charles likes it that way, has missed it, even. As brilliant as Crystal is, in the end this is what his existence comes down to, Edwin and him.

“Do you wish I hadn’t told you?”, Edwin asks, apropos of nothing, into the almost-silence, the hum of cars and life beneath them. Maybe it should take Charles a few moments to figure out what Edwin means, but it really doesn’t; even if they haven’t talked about it yet, Edwin’s confession is never far from his mind. Neither is Hell, neither is how close he came to losing him.

“Nah”, Charles replies easily, looks over at the best friend he ever had, who is not looking back. “I’m glad you trusted me with it. And also, like. It’s quite flattering, to be honest.” He gives Edwin a grin, even if he cannot see it, but maybe Edwin can hear it in his voice, maybe he can sense it, maybe it can make this a little easier.

“Flattering?”, Edwin repeats, and while he says it to the city spread out in front of them, he turns to face Charles afterwards. There is something like hope in his face, and Charles wants to pull him against his chest and make sure Edwin knows he never has to hope to be loved again.

“Yeah, absolutely. You know I think the world of you, right?”

Edwin nods, and that at least is a relief; if he didn’t, Charles would have to reevaluate every choice he has made since meeting him. “Well, so, since I think you’re the best person in existence, the thought that you love me, that’s pretty special”, Charles tries to explain. “And that makes me feel pretty special. That you could love me.”

Edwin stays silent for a while, but he doesn’t look away, seemingly figuring something out, making a decision, or a third thing somewhere in between.

“That makes sense”, he eventually says, speaking slowly, almost like he is still thinking about it. “In that case, I shall endeavour to tell you more often. Because you are very special to me.”

He looks as serious as anything, and it warms something deep inside Charles’ chest, his mind. On impulse, he reaches out and curls his fingers around Edwin’s thin wrist and holds onto it.

“You’re pretty special to me too”, he tells Edwin just for good measure, shoots him a lopsided grin, and Edwin smiles back in that soft way of his that he keeps for Charles alone.

“I am glad to hear that”, he replies, and the muscles under Charles’ grip shift, but Edwin doesn’t pull his hand away. “And Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They are on a case for the sixty-fifth time.

There is a painting that seems to suck ghosts into it if they get too close, trapping them into the canvas, and although they have been going through every and all books their library has to offer, nothing seems to help. So, instead of research they comb through the museum the painting has been hanging in, even if Crystal is the only one of them who can get near enough to actually inspect it.

She takes a picture of it with her tablet and takes it back to them, before she goes back to the painting, trying not to draw attention to herself as she figures out a way to touch the frame without tripping any alarms. At the same time, Charles and Edwin hunch over the tablet computer in a corner of the quiet museum, using clumsy, untrained fingers to go over the painting inch by inch.

It’s a feast of a sort, complete with lavish dishes and glass carafes full of dark red wine, the table set for another six people who have not yet arrived. The ghosts that have been consumed already are crowding the other seats, some looking delighted, some frightened, some just confused.

At the head of the table, a man is seated in a gilded chair, one that Charles does not know from the file they have of the victims, but who looks familiar anyway. He squints, zooms in on his face, and it takes a moment, but then something clicks.

“Mate, I think that’s the artist”, he tells Edwin, the rush of something that could solve the puzzle coming over him, “Do you think he painted himself into it and is somehow taking the others?”

It sounds slightly strange to his own ears when put like this, but Edwin’s eyes go wide, and Charles can see him connecting dots he has not yet noticed.

“He was dying when he painted this”, Edwin says, looking back at the screen, eyes flickering to take in all of it. “And scared of it by all accounts. If he found a spell… and he allowed his own soul to be sucked into it and then used it to trap others so he would not have to face his afterlife alone… oh, Charles, you are a genius!”

Without wasting a second, Edwin gets up, shouting for Crystal, but before he can run over to her, Edwin turns around once more. “I love you”, he tells Charles, and it’s sweet and it’s honest and Charles takes the words and tucks them deep down into the centre of his soul, and follows Edwin to solve the case.

The seventieth time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles has just dropped a priceless artefact on the floor where it had splintered into a thousand pieces. It’s not important for their case, just something they picked up in Tromsö as payment for a quick missing person quest, and Charles hadn’t meant to drop it when pulling it out of his backpack; it had just happened.

Edwin looks at him, exasperated but too tired to argue, and says, “You should count yourself lucky that I love you.”

Maybe it’s not the cleverest response, but it’s the only one Charles can give. “I do. Every day.”

The seventy-first time is when they are back at the agency afterwards. Half an hour earlier Crystal had passed out on the sofa, mumbling something about not thinking she should be forced to walk back to her apartment when their sofa was just there, so Charles is sitting on the floor instead. He’s trying to figure out if he should move the jar of bees further up in the backpack where there is now an open spot when Edwin clears his throat behind the desk.

It’s nothing he does often, usually electing just to speak without preamble, so the sound makes Charles look up at him almost immediately.

“What’s up?”, he asks, and Edwin hesitates; another thing that isn’t like him at all.

“You do know that I don’t truly think you have to count yourself lucky that I love you, don’t you?” He asks the question in such a stilted, adorably Edwin way that Charles cannot help but smile at him, metaphorical heart overwhelmed with affection for this impossible, brilliant, beautiful boy.

“Of course I know that”, he replies and Edwin seems to relax immediately, like this truly was something weighing heavily on his mind. “I do, though. Every day.”

And he means it.

The seventy-third time Edwin tells him he loves him, Charles is on the floor, legs drawn up against his chest and his head resting against his knees. In death, there is no more exhaustion and yet Charles feels it, his limbs so heavy he cannot lift them, his eyes burning as if he had been crying for hours.

He hasn’t, he doesn’t think he deserves to.

If there is something Charles hates it is cases where they can’t do anything at all, where they try and they try and then, they try again, but the outcome has been fixed beforehand and in the end, the only thing they can do is watch someone being dragged to Hell. To a Hell that Charles knows now, one that haunts his thoughts in the hours in between, showing him Edwin covered in blood and so, so scared, a hundred of his bodies discarded and ripped to shreds in a corner.

Edwin, who sits down next to him, although Charles knows he doesn’t like sitting on the floor, who puts a hand on Charles’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Charles?”, he asks softly, and there is so much compassion, so much understanding in his voice that it almost makes the tears in Charles’ eyes spill over. “I love you.”

And it’s enough and it’s too much and there are tears running down his cheeks, but Edwin holds him when Charles flings himself into his arms, tucks him under his chin and keeps him safe, and he’ll be alright.

They’ll be alright in the end.

The seventy-fifth time is a few days later, when Charles is feeling almost like himself again. They are trying to decide on a new case, one that won’t leave Charles feeling like they have to carry the weight of the world on their backs, and Crystal decided to sit this one out no matter which case they picked, so it’s just them.

“To be honest, the only thing that matters to me is that it won’t have the potential to go horrifically wrong this time”, Charles explains as he sorts through their case files, and it feels a little like a confession. Edwin would never judge him for his response to their last case, he knows that, and yet it feels a little shameful, because he might have been in Hell for an afternoon, but not long enough to warrant any of this.

“I could not agree more”, Edwin concedes and puts away a few envelopes without opening them. “How about a simple shoe-leather case for now?”

“Yeah, that sounds good”, Charles says, and it feels like relief and it feels like shirking a duty he usually asks to fulfil. And maybe that feeling is audible in his voice, maybe Edwin just knows him so well, since his expression softens, and he picks out one of the case files at random, hands it to Charles.

“Let us try this one”, Edwin tells him, before putting a hand on his shoulder, like he put a hand on Charles’ knee back then on the floor. “And Charles? You did nothing wrong. I love you.”

And maybe it’s hard to believe in that moment, but Edwin looks at him with such certainty, and if there is anything Charles is good at, it’s trusting him. So he takes a deep breath, a luxury he sometimes indulges in, and nods.

“I love you, too”, he says, and that, as well, is something he can trust.

The seventy-eighth time Edwin tells him he loves him, is because of nothing in particular at all. It’s a Sunday morning, the sun shining through the windows and although Charles cannot feel its heat on his skin, he has still pulled the sofa over to luxuriate in the brightness.

“Charles?”, comes from the other side of the room, and Charles just hums to indicates that he has heard Edwin. “I love you.”

The words make him look up and over at Edwin, who is watching him from where he has been reorganising their library; he looks soft and happy in a mellow, relaxed kind of way. Charles wants to push back the strand of hair that has fallen into his face.

“Love you, too”, he says instead, chest aglow with the words, a spark hidden between that warmth, and settles back into the cushions. “You should come over and enjoy the sun with me.”

“We cannot feel the sun”, Edwin counters, but there is little actual objection in his voice.

“I know”, Charles says, and scoots over so Edwin would fit right next to him, if he wanted to do so. “But we can pretend.”

The seventy-ninth time they are on the very top of the London Eye for no reason at all, just that they haven’t had a case in a week and Charles had been itching to get outside and do something. Edwin had done his best to pretend to resist, but had lasted only a few minutes before letting Charles drag him through the walls.

A little part of Charles misses Crystal, because she would love the view, but Crystal is on a date. With a living man whose dead aunt they had as a client a month ago, and while Crystal had seemed nervous to tell him, Charles finds that he doesn’t care much about it.

Not because he doesn’t care about Crystal, not at all, but because their little fling had naturally fizzled out after he had brought Edwin back from Hell. They had never talked about it, but even that would have felt unnecessary; there was no way Charles would sneak off to kiss Crystal when Edwin was in love with him. Even if he still isn’t sure what that makes them, Charles knows he couldn’t continue anything with Crystal when he had promised Edwin that they would figure out the rest between them.

So, Crystal is on a date and Charles is here, looking out across the city next to Edwin, the murmur of the other passengers’ conversation easily drowned out by decades of practice.

“It looks so peaceful from up here, don’t you think?”, Charles asks, because before their little break, they had spent far too many days running from people with iron machetes and murderous intent.

Edwin nods his approval, and Charles reaches out and takes his hand, because he wants to feel that Edwin is beside him. Not in Hell, not in the grasp of a witch, not in any kind of danger. Just next to Charles, exactly where he belongs.

“I’m glad we’re getting a little break in between everything”, he continues and runs his thumb across Edwin’s knuckles. He might not be able to feel the soft skin there, the warmth of Edwin’s blood beneath it, but he still feels something, and that’s enough. “I feel like we deserve it.”

“That we do”, Edwin agrees, and for a moment, Charles can feel his fingers tightening. “Maybe, if it continues for a little longer, we could go out of town for a few days? We haven’t done that in a while. Perhaps to Florence, or Berlin. I remember you liking it there.”

“Great idea, that’d be aces”, Charles tells him and Edwin smiles out at the city; it’s good, and yet Charles wishes Edwin would smile at him instead. “We can start making plans once we’re back home.”

“Fantastic”, Edwin replies and then, “Also, Charles? I love you.”

And this time something flutters in Charles’ chest, delicate and lovely as a nightingale, and Charles intertwines their fingers, because he wants to feel Edwin a little closer, still. “I love you too.”

The eightieth time Edwin tells him he loves him is in Berlin, after Crystal has left to go to a rave. She had been delighted to go on a trip, and although it meant that Edwin and he would spend a few hours on a plane instead of just walking through a mirror, Charles is happy to have her there. And yet, when she had asked if he wanted to join her, he had turned her down without a second thought.

Chances is sure he would have enjoyed going dancing, even if he would be left without the booze and the drugs, but it’s not as compelling a thought as to spend a night wandering the city with Edwin at his side.

So here he is, walking from the Neptune fountain towards the Lustgarten, where Edwin wants to take a look at the Old Museum and their antiquities collection. They have been here before in the early 2000s and Charles remembers it better than expected, the broad streets and the relentless traffic and most of all the breeze in the air that feels like freedom and promise.

“I’m very glad we came here”, Edwin says softly; Charles can hear him even over the cars passing them every few moments. “We should do it more often, getting out of the city. Maybe we could go to Prague next, they have a fascinating cathedral. Or Vienna, I always wanted to visit the catacombs there.”

“Sure, sounds good”, Charles responds easily. He knows little about Vienna and even less about Prague, but if Edwin wants to go, he will gladly follow. “I’ll ask Crystal if she has a preference, then we could draw up a list of places to go. Maybe take the agency on a worldwide tour.”

He shoots Edwin a grin, who smiles back a little distractedly, before asking, “Speaking of Crystal, why didn’t you go with her tonight? Would the music not be to your tastes?”

“I don’t know much about the music, to be honest. It’s not like I’ve ever been to a rave before”, Charles replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“We spend all our time together.”

“I know”, Charles replies and bumps his shoulder into Edwin’s, just to feel the resistance there, to know Edwin is next to him. It warms something within his chest, not just his heart, but everything around it, too, makes him think of springtime and bluebells and Edwin’s smile. “I like it that way.”

There is no response for some time, but that is fine, because they are crossing the bridge to the Museum Island, and Charles is happy to watch the city around them, listen to its energy, its life. At some point, he slips his hand into Edwin’s and lets their fingers weave together; it’s nothing they do often, but still so easy.

“Charles?”, Edwin eventually says when they are almost at their destination. His voice sounds different, almost fragile, like something Charles would give his life to protect. “I love you.”

And there it is again, that little flutter, that warmth spreading further through his chest, because Edwin loves him, and Charles isn’t certain if there could be anything more precious than that knowledge.

“I know. I love you, too.”

The eighty-fourth time Edwin tells him he loves him, they are running. Not for their lives but for their continued existence, and it’s terrifying because Charles can almost taste the blackdarknothingness at the back of his throat and the thought that he might never see Edwin again is the most terrifying thing he has ever faced, like it is every single time this happens.

They round a corner and Charles reaches out to grasp Edwin’s hand in his, even if he knows it will slow them down, because he has to feel Edwin next to him at least one more time.

Edwin looks over at him and he looks as terrified as Charles feels, a twin look of despair on their faces, and for a moment, he squeezes Charles’ hand before letting go again.

“I love you”, he shouts at Charles through the noise the creature chasing them makes, and within the terror and the defiance and the desperation, there is a bright spark, a hint of warmth, because Edwin loves him and even if they blink out of existence, Edwin will have loved him and that makes any fate worth it.

“I love you, too”, Charles yells back, and means it more than anything he has ever said before in his life.

The eighty-fifth time is only minutes later, when Crystal has hit the creature with the potion they prepared this morning, followed it up with whatever she does with her powers now when she goes silent and wild and unstoppable. They are safe, and they are together, and Charles isn’t sure if one of them hugs the other first or if they just meet somewhere in the middle, a flurry of limbs grasping at each other and relieved laughter.

Charles’ head fits into the curve between Edwin’s shoulder and neck easily, Edwin’s chin digging into the flesh of his shoulder, and it’s bliss, being here. It’s bliss, being with Edwin.

“I love you”, Edwin mumbles into the crook of Charles’ neck, and Charles pulls him closer, wants to forget entirely where he ends and Edwin begins.

“I love you, too”, he replies and there are tears in his eyes, in his voice; his heart and chest are so full of it, it feels like they are spilling over, pumping sunshine and warmth and bluebells and Edwin’s smile through his limbs. “I love you so much. I love you the most.”

The hundred-seventeenth time Charles tells Edwin he loves him, they are back at the agency and it’s just a Thursday, the sky grey with clouds and a few non-urgent cases waiting for them on Edwin’s desk.

There is nothing special about it, not about the day, not about the time, not about them sitting together on the sofa in companionable silence. It’s a day that has happened a hundred times before and will happen a thousand more, but on this one, Charles looks over at Edwin on a whim, and it’s like he sees him for the first time, the thousandth time, the last time.

He is beautiful, like he has always been, ever since Charles had seen him back at the school for that very first time, bathed in the golden glow of a lamp that wouldn’t be enough to save him, and Charles loves him, has loved him, will love him for as long as he exists.

“Hey, Edwin”, he says softly, and watches Edwin look up, carefully put his finger down between the pages of his book before closing it. A hundred times he has seen it before, and yet it makes Charles smile now. “I love you.”

It takes a moment, but then Edwin smiles back at him, soft and sweet and like he is truly happy, and Charles moves before he can have a single thought.

Edwin’s lips are as soft, as plush as they look, and Charles cannot feel them, but he can feel them still, just like he can feel them parting in surprise, can feel the curve of Edwin’s jaw as he reaches out to grasp it. He kisses Edwin like he might have wanted to for years, kisses his love for him onto Edwin’s skin, licks and nips until Edwin’s lips part beneath his ministrations, and Charles can lick into his mouth and pretend to taste him.

The kiss lasts a moment and forever at the same time, and when Charles eventually pulls away, Edwin’s hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his lips shining wet and his eyes still closed, only fluttering open slowly. He’s beautiful and he loves Charles and Charles loves him.

His hand is still cradling Edwin’s cheek, and for a second, Edwin nuzzles into it; Charles’ heart is a supernova, is collapsing into itself, is being born once more.

“You love me like this?”, Edwin asks, quiet and hopeful and lovely, and Charles nods before he can even finish the sentence.

“I love you in every way there is.”

Edwin’s eyes light up like stars, like sunlight, like the grey, clouded over sky on days that are special simply because they are together, and Charles wants to fall to his knees and pray to him, kiss his devotion onto Edwin’s palms and wrists and soles of his feet.

“I love you, too”, Edwin says, and Charles leans in and kisses his devotion onto his lips instead.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles

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hugheswritetr · 8 months

Text

D-Day

MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

Author’s note: the longest chapters so far, hope you enjoy it;)

Song: Daylight- Taylor Swift

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The bathroom counter in my room is overflowing with make-up. As always, I decided to lay a little bit longer than necessary in bed as I should, and this is the result of it. I cannot even navigate through the stuff, making my frustration rise more.

My palms are sweaty, my arms are aching and the goddamn eyeliner is getting crooked more and more each time I try to fix it. This is not my day. I am hoping that it at least looks presentable, the last thing I want is to look horrendous on national television.

Don’t even get me started on my outfit, the new bought heels I put on to stretch already digging into my feet. Sure, the heels are Jimmy Choo’s ( I would never buy anything else ), but even the price tag can’t fix the already forming blister.

,,Thalia! Stop hogging the bathroom!” my brother screams from outside, banging on the door for the millionth time.

Did I mention it was the day of the draft?

The day Mattheo had been working towards his entire life, the past week of his life incredibly stressful, the combine and interviews going with being the fourth projected pick.

We had flown to Dallas two days later than him, residing in the Mariott hotel in downtown Dallas. The whole family is here for this once in a lifetime event. Whole family but one person.

I can see that it’s troubling him, dad was one of his biggest supporters, paying for various trainers and private ice time with them. Despite all that, he is not here. I am sad for him, remembering the special father and son bond between them.

,,Give me a second” I shout back at him, even though knowing that the second would be a lot longer. How much more can my arms ache?

,,Thalia!” my brothers annoyed tone making me screw up more ,,Come on!”

,,Oh my god Theo stop! You’re making me nervous!” I report back in annoyed sneer. “You?!Nervous ?!” I don’t know how he manages to be louder each time. “Are you forgetting it’s my draft day?!”

,,Oh my god! Fine!” I reply, trying to swiftly gather my things into my make-up bag. Luke’s bathroom will have to do. I open the door, revealing my annoyed brother standing there.

,,Finally” he says as he enters the bathroom. “Asshat,, I retort my last comment before leaving the room.

The trip down the hallway is short, five steps and I am already knocking on his door.

But the boy opening the door is not the brother I am expecting . ,,Thalia?” Jack is raising his eyebrow at me making me squirm under his gaze. ,,Um, Could I finish getting ready in your room? Mattheo needs to get ready and he can’t when I’m in the bathroom” the blush to my cheeks rising as I ask the question.

,,Sure, but Luke is not here” the newfound information making me almost wish I hadn’t come here. I enter the room and swiftly aim for the bathroom, hoping to get away from the awkward silence that fell between me and the boy who stole my heart and doesn’t even know it.

What I didn’t expect is him following me and sitting on the bathtub beside me. “So, what are we doing?” he asks, catching me off guard. “We?,, I nervously laugh. “Sure, Lils, I’m not going to sit there when I can keep you company,, he nonchalantly replies.

I pray he doesn’t see the effect he has on me and that the foundation tint is covering my red cheeks. If it hadn’t been for my mind replaying the sentence over and over again, I wouldn’t even notice the name he said.

“You know my name is Thalia, right?” I ask and he laughs like it is the greatest joke he heard for a while. “You think I’m dumb? Lils is my new nickname for you, you have lillies on your dress” he voices the detail of my dress.

,,Oh” it was as I forgotten all of the english vocabulary and the only response I can muster is this.

,,Let me help you, sit” he says, noticing me still not drawing the eyeliner right. “Jack, please, like you know how to do it” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And you do?,, he jokingly answers.

He puts his hand around my biceps and sits me down on the bathtub, standing up and taking the make-up tool from my hand.

I gaze up to him, admiring the focused look in his eyes, but most importantly admiring him. The small freckles covering the bridge of his nose, the pink hue on his cheeks from spending time in the sun. The lines of focus between his eyebrows reminding me that he is human, and not some carefully carved sculpture. Jack Hughes is perfection.

,,Here, done” he finishes drawing the eyeliner. I stand up, expecting the disaster on my eyes, but when I gaze into the mirror, the eyeliner is drew on, good? It honestly makes me surprised.

I voice my thoughts with surprised laugh ,,Where did you learn this?”. Jack looks at me “I often watch my girlfriend do make-up, I’m kind of a pro right now” the world girlfriend silencing my next words. I just stand there gaping at him, the awkward silence sweeping over the room. The sentence is a dig to my heart, reminding me that I can admire him all I want, but I can never have him.

I think that my guardian angels decided to help me, and thank god they did, because Luke enters the room.

,,Come on Jack, we have to go - Thalia?” he asks surprised. “Oh Hi Luke, I was just here to finish my make-up, Mattheo occupied the bathroom” I answer his confusion.

Quickly cleaning up the stuff, I gather it to my hands leaving the room ,,I should go see if mom and Theo are ready, see you” I leave without waiting for the answer.

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I am in a state of awe for the last 5 minutes, and the cause for a first time in a while is not Jack. As I am sitting in my seat, the NHL level stadium makes the situation feel ten times more real than back in the hotel, signalling the significance of the event.

Our seats are in the higher part of the arena, right before the Hughes family. Luke is shaking his leg notoriously, he seems even more nervous than Quinn and Theo, the actual people being drafted.

There is a limit on the amount my nerves can handle, and before I know , I am complaining to him ,,Luke! I swear to god, if you’re going to shake that leg one more time, I’m going to slice it” I say to him, making him widen his eyes. “Geez Thalia, never took you as the psycho type” Jack inserts himself into the conversation. Once again, reminding me of his unforgettable presence in my life.

My mother knowingly smiles at me, knowing the real reason for my snapping. I feel sad for Mattheo, one of the most important events of his life is here, and dad is missing. I can see it’s troubling him, so I put my hand around his leg.

,, He is looking, you know it right?” I say to him, trying to calm him. He offers me a bittersweet smile in response ,,I know”.

The ceremony soon begins, anticipation filling my entire body. The reports saying Mattheo is going to be one of the first first rounders - making it known that the fate of his draft is going to be revealed soon.

First pick belonged to Buffalo Sabres, and the smile on the lucky hockey protégé picked for them making me excited for Theo’s moment.

I am thinking, not even noticing that the next team is picking. Selfishly, I hope that he would be going to the Detroit Red Wings to be close, but I know he is going to be picked sooner.

Then the Montreál Canadiens appear on stage. Making the usual speech.

The second Mattheo's name is called by the Montreal Canadiens, we jump from our seats and scream in joy. First mom hugs him, her eyes are shining with tears making my own spill in reponse. I hug him too, being the proudest sister there is on planet earth in this moment, my heart soaring with happiness. He made it, and I couldn’t be more proud. He leaps a few steps up to the Hughes family to hug Quinn, his now former teammate. And then the journey to his new team begins.

My heart skips a beat as I watch him make his way to the stage, a mix of emotions swirling within me. Pride, excitement, and pure happiness radiating off him and in return, off me.

After the moment ends, we sit back down. I can basically feel the anxiety radiating from Quinn by not being picked yet. All I can do is plead with god and my dad to bring the moment sooner.

It is as they hear my prayers, because as soon as the Vancouver Canucks call the name of their next new player, my ears reach the sound of a name of the boy I had grown to care about so much over the span of past three and a half years. I jump from my seat for a second time, expierencing the happiness once again.

The proud feeling coursing through my body from both of the boys successful drafts is beautiful. Me and Luke hug, feeling proud of our eldest brothers and wanting to share the moment together. The two bestfriends made it onto the international stage, an accomplishment we will be celebrating for a long time.

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The draft had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but seeing Quinn and Mattheo's dreams come true was an incredible moment.

We meet with them after the draft, the smile is permanently etched on their faces for the rest of the evening, making the whole group feel good.

The only thing that doesn’t feel good are my feet. Who suggested these painful heels? I know the answer, making me frustrated at myself. My ,,silent” huffing is unnoticed, until I see the middle Hughes boy stopping and waiting for me.

,,Come on, jump” He says, catching me off guard. “What?,, I reply, the confusing train of thoughts surging through me until he crouches . ,,Jump” he says, waiting for me to jump on him.

My proud mind is screaming at me not to, wanting to prove my mother I can wear heels for the whole evening even if she insisted I couldn’t.

But as I try to take another step, the pain spreading through my feet is too much for me to bear, making me jump on him.

Despite being dark, I can see daylight. Personified in the presence of him.

I don’t even notice the knowing look on the elder women faces as they watch us. As if secretly knowing what the future holds for us. We will soon find out.

#jack hughes #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nj devils #jack hughes blurb

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

Text

Birthday

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: It's your birthday and you and Wanda have big plans

A/N: Wanda, Wanda, WANDA. Sometimes you don't think things through...part 2/3 of Wanda getting in trouble with her SO

Warnings: Angst, conflict, sketchy behavior

You turned 25 today and besides being old enough to rent a car, you hadn’t ever expected this birthday to be special. You hadn’t given a lot of thought to it honestly, but at this point in life, you hadn’t expected to really be dating anyone, especially not a criminal. You are still trying to come to terms with that despite it being more than a year since you met Wanda. You wonder sometimes how different your life would have been if you hadn’t noticed her that day. Would you even be dating anyone? Would you have met at any point? You'll never know the answer to either of these questions and you didn’t really care.

All you cared about was that tonight Wanda had promised to take you to dinner and then spend the rest of the night with you doing whatever you wanted. You had considered what this could be because you had a lot of options. You’d concluded that whatever you did was going to involve food, cuddling, dogs, horror movies or sex. You’d like them all, but you knew what happened when you got greedy.

The only thing you really wanted was to spend time with your girlfriend who you didn’t see nearly enough. Sex would be nice too since it had been over a week, and it was your birthday, but sometimes you just took what you could get.

You frown again as you look to your phone for the fourth time in ten minutes. Wanda had been very communicative this morning when she’d wished you a happy birthday and told you that she’d pick you up tonight at 6. You’d talked to her a little more before she’d gone to work, and now that classes were over and it was 5pm, she wasn’t answering your texts or calls.

You tried not to worry because you knew that she couldn’t have her phone in front of her all the time. You just hoped that she wasn’t going to be late.

“What do you mean you can’t make it?”

You hope you sound as annoyed as you really are because it’s 6:10 and Wanda is just now calling you to cancel. Not just dinner either. She’s cancelling your entire night with her and you are very close to blowing up at her and crying right after. You listen to her excuse; her normal work excuse and you suddenly feel as insignificant as they come. You frown deeply and try not to cut off Wanda’s rambling apology. You've heard it all before, and despite hoping that tonight would be different, you're reminded once again that you're not a priority for her.

“I’m so sorry, detka, but this is something that can’t wait. If it doesn’t happen tonight I won’t have another chance for months and I’ve been working on it for almost a year. I promise we’ll do something tomorrow, okay?”

You don’t respond immediately because you don’t know what to say. Rather you don’t know how to say it without sounding as deeply disappointed as you are. You’d been looking forward to this day for weeks because you were certain that if any day you’d convince your girlfriend to ditch work, it would be today. Still, you suppose there’s nothing you can do about it now but pout, and you sit back down at your dining room table with a sigh. You’re wearing a nice dress that you know Wanda likes, and you’d actually done more than just run a brush through your hair. Still, it didn’t matter, you were sure that you’d just spend the night on the couch now that it was just you.

“Okay. Good luck, Wands.”

You don’t say anything else before you hang up on her. Sure it’s a little childish, but you mostly don’t want her to hear you cry. You sit in the kitchen for a few minutes feeling sorry for yourself before you go to the fridge and get one of the cupcakes your friend had brought to class for you. You smile slightly at the reminder that you do have people who love you and would spend your birthday with you. You practically inhale your cupcake before opening your phone and going to the group message you have for your friends.

Hey. Someone had to work tonight, so now I’m all alone :(

It only took 2 minutes for two of them to text and then the third to call you to make plans. They weren’t going to let you sit home alone and depressed on your birthday. They were taking you out and you were going to celebrate whether you liked it or not.

Wanda was still feeling guilty when she met with her client a little while later. She knew it was futile to hope that this would go quickly and that she would be able to see you before an obscenely early hour. She couldn’t help it though, and she clung to this thought just to get her through the nearly two hours-worth of drinks and smelly cigars. She was actually thinking she could go home around midnight when negotiations were finished, but afterwards she’d been promised a celebration and was escorted to a club.

Wanda decided that she’d drink more at this one because she had a bad feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing you tonight.

“Come on Y/n! You only turn 25 once!”

You are still cringing when you and your friends arrive to your third, and hopefully last, stop of the night. You’d been taken to dinner at the place that you’d reserved with Wanda and despite it being ridiculously expensive, your friends covered it all. Then you’d gone to a bar and had a few drinks and spent a couple of hours laughing and forgetting that you’d been ditched tonight. You were so grateful that your friends had your back and you had been ready to call it a night after that when you were told that you had one more stop.

“We’re getting you a lap dance for your birthday!”

You’d been stunned and sightly horrified by the prospect of this once you’d realized they weren’t joking. Something like this didn’t interest you, and even as you walked into the club and saw a lot of beautiful women, you still weren’t comfortable with the idea. You figured you could buy yourself some time by dragging everyone to the bar for drinks. You might be able to make them forget why you were here altogether if you got them drunk enough.

“You’re not serious.”

Wanda looks to her left to where Steve is standing next to her looking as uncomfortable as she is incredulous. She did not guess this is what ‘celebrating’ would entail, and she’s already planning a hasty exit when she and Steve follow the group of men into the gentlemen’s club. She’s never been here before and she’s eternally grateful when she’s immediately hit with the too strong smell of perfume and faint cigarette smoke that hits her as she walks through the doors. She sighs inaudibly as she looks to the large booth that the group is starting to fill. She barely spares the vast room a glance as she tries to decide how much she’ll be able to drink.

“Sit, please. We’ll close the deal with a little celebration.”

Wanda doesn’t have time to ask what that means when three women, three dancers walk over to them. She has to keep her mouth from dropping at the fact that they are basically naked. They have tiny triangles and strings that comprise their tops, and thongs that leave nothing to the imagination. Wanda watches in muted horror as 2 of the men are led away from the table and the third woman holds a hand out to her. She’s already trying to come up with an excuse when the client she had to impress spoke up.

“I-.”

“Ms. Maximoff. Please, enjoy yourself. On me.”

Wanda flounders and looks to Steve for help but he can’t really do anything. He can’t speak up just like she can’t refuse without seeming rude. This deal is too important for it to fall apart now, and Wanda takes a deep breath as she stands up slowly and takes the blonde’s hand. She hopes hers isn’t sweaty but she’s so nervous she feels like she’s sweating bullets. This is not what she planned on doing tonight, and she tries not to think about how you'd react to this.

Wanda looks back to Steve who understands and stands up to follow her. Polite or not, Steve was Wanda’s security detail so he went where she did.

“I’ll just stand outside.”

Wanda tries not to panic at the thought of being alone with a dancer who’s been paid who knows how much to do who knows what. She knows that this place is higher-end than the normal strip club, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t about to get an eyeful. She tries not to think about how she should be at home with you right now watching a terrifying movie. Instead she’s here trying not to watch as she’s given a lap dance that she’s only accepting for the sake of being polite.

“Relax, dear. You’re so tense. Let me help with that.”

You’re laughing at your friend’s joke when you notice him. You’d glanced around the club just out of curiosity, and you stop cold at the sight of a familiar face. You frown and try to figure out if you can sneak away to talk to him. You finish the rest of your drink before excusing yourself and insisting that you’ll be right back.

You hurry across the room and look around for the bathroom before trying to get the man’s attention.

“Hey! Steve, what are you doing here?”

When Steve hears your voice, he begins to panic. He turns to see you shooting him a confused look, and he takes a moment to wonder what he’d done wrong to be put into this situation. You’re dressed up, probably out with some friends since Wanda had to change her plans, but why you ended up here of all places, he’ll never know. Steve tries to offer a small smile, but you speak up before he can ask what’s on his mind. He has to swallow the lump in his throat at your suspicious look.

“Wait, who are you here with?”

Steve doesn’t really need to answer. Not when his eyes widen before his gaze goes to the boring black carpet beneath his feet. He avoids your eye contact successfully for only 3 seconds before he has to look back up at you.

“Is-is Wanda here?!”

You look around for your girlfriend, but you don’t see her anywhere. You don’t see anyone you recognize and you’re about to start looking in every room for her when a door opens nearby. Wanda spots Steve and nearly runs to him, but the sight of someone in between the two of them makes her stop short. When she realizes who it is she nearly vomits.

“Steve, let’s--.”

You turn around slowly at the sound of your girlfriend’s voice, and you see someone barely clothed leave the room that she just left over Wanda’s shoulder. You just stare at Wanda and she stares at you for a minute before you feel the urge to cry overwhelm you. You spin around on your heels and head back to the bar to tell your friends that you’re going home.

“Y/n, wait!”

You realize that Wanda’s following you and you spin around again to shoot her a glare so vicious it stops her in her tracks.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. I’m leaving and you better not fucking follow me.”

You get a minute alone to thank your friends for taking you out before claiming to feel sick. You stay with them long enough to book a ride home, and show them that you’re not going to get murdered before you head outside. Despite being able to relax briefly to hug the trio, you feel yourself tense immediately when you realize that someone’s followed you out here.

“Did I not make myself clear?”

It was hard to misinterpret what you’d said, but Wanda was desperate for you to understand what happened tonight. She hadn’t skipped out on celebrating your birthday with you to come to this glorified strip club. Well, she had, but she really hadn’t wanted to. She would have much rather spent the night with you.

“Y/n please. Let me explain. I’m here with those stuffy looking men for work. I didn’t want to come here tonight, I promise.”

You’re not looking at her. You’re staring out into the night and looking between your phone and the stagnant parking lot waiting for your ride to get here. Still, you can’t ignore her completely and you take a few seconds to process what she’s said. You’re not sure what to believe. You’re angry because Wanda left you alone on your birthday, and in an attempt to salvage the night you’d run into her at a freaking strip club of all places. You honestly knew way too little about her work because this is not something you would have ever expected your girlfriend to do.

You’d imagined her in shootouts and torturing lowly criminals. Maybe she’d sit around and drink with a bunch of old white guys and discuss their business of murdering people as casually as if they were talking about the weather. You hadn’t expected them to frequent places like this, but putting a little more thought into it, you realize it’s not completely unreasonable. You hate it, but you could see why a group of ‘stuffy men’ might want to end up here.

That said, there was no circumstance where Wanda could justify what she’d just done to you. She could tell you it was a for work, or that she had to just keep up appearances but you didn’t care. It was betrayal any way you looked at it, and for this you didn’t even want to look at her.

“Did you also not want a lap dance because it looks like you got one?”

Wanda falters for a second time as she tries to come up with an explanation. She knows that you might not believe her, but it’s the truth and she can’t tell you anything else.

“I didn’t. Detka, please. I swear I didn’t. I just--.”

You realize that your ride is pulling into the lot and you thank whoever is listening that you’ll get to escape this conversation. You already feel tears starting to fall as you consider what Wanda did, or swears she didn’t. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head before you take a deep breath and step toward the lot.

“Why should I believe you, Wanda? You never told me what your work involved but I can’t imagine that cheating is part of it. I don’t care what you have to say. We’re through.”

You don’t look back as you get in the car that pulls up to you and asks for your name. You ignore Wanda’s pleas as you slam the door behind you and turn away from the window. Wanda watches as you drive away and she curses under her breath before turning around to run back inside to find Steve. She doesn’t care what happens with her deal anymore. It should be closed and if not, well she’ll figure it out later. Right now, she needs to do whatever she can to make this right with you.

You don’t make it easy for her. The next day, you go to class like usual, but otherwise you’re locked in your apartment with the deadbolt in place so Wanda can’t get in. You listen to music to both block out her voice and your intrusive thoughts whenever you’re at home, so you barely notice as Wanda comes and goes. Rather how she doesn’t leave at all. She spends hours sitting outside your door calling and texting you, but it all goes unanswered. She spends nearly 24 hours trying to get you to talk to her before you even look at her.

“What is it, Wanda?”

You barely pay her any mind as you walk down the flight of stairs to the parking lot to your car. You have class soon and you’re probably going to be late, but you’d known she was out here so you didn’t want to leave. You’d delayed it as long as possible and you hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Wanda outside your door. Despite knowing she was there; you hadn’t expected her to look so haggard. She was still wearing what you’d seen her in at the club, and she looked exhausted. You were pretty sure that if you tried you could knock her off balance with just a touch.

“Y/n, please, can I just tell you what happened?”

You continue down the stairs and start rifling through your purse for your keys with a shrug. You don’t even want to go to this class, and the closer you get to your car the less motivated you are to even bother.

“You can talk all you want, Wanda. I’m just not really interested.”

You open the car on just your side, watching as Wanda stops behind you and considers her options. You get in your car and watch as Wanda steps closer, nearly falling as she loses her footing. She’s barely hanging on and despite being angry at her, you don’t want to see her hurt herself.

“Well, um-like I told you it was for work. We’d closed the deal but Mitch had wanted to celebrate which I hoped meant drugs or something. I didn’t expect a fucking lap dance and I didn’t get one. It was horrible. I just sat there and talked about you for a few minutes before she took pity on me and said she’d tell them I cooperated.”

You start the car but stop short when she says this. You can tell that she’s telling the truth. She’s crying and you’d listened to enough of her rambling voicemails to match what she’s telling you now. You sigh in defeat as you roll up your window as Wanda continues to cry. You’re not going to class anymore. You don’t care enough and you’re too worried about Wanda to leave her alone right now.

Wanda barely notices you roll up the window or turn off the car as she wipes her eyes. She’s so tired and crying now is making her already existing headache excruciating. She needs to lie down and probably eat something, but she can’t leave. She can’t leave until you know how sorry she is and that she won’t give up on you. She needs you to know that she loves you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I love you. P-please don’t leave me.”

Wanda is startled by the sound of your car door slamming again and she jumps at the sight of you. You’re standing in front of her as you sigh in defeat, and reach out for her with a frown.

“I’m not leaving. I hate this class anyway.”

Wanda doesn’t know how to respond, but she just follows as you lead her back upstairs to your apartment. You wrap your arm around hers to hold her steady as you open your door. She’s started to sway dangerously and she just watches wide-eyed as you lead her into your place.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You sit Wanda down on your bed as you search for a change of clothes for her while the tub fills. You figure sitting down will be better than trying to get Wanda to shower now, and you know she’ll feel better if she gets clean before falling into bed. You find her clean clothes and set them and a towel in the bathroom before waving her in there. You make sure she has everything she needs before leaving her alone. She’s a little confused by your change of heart, so she only manages a stunned ‘thank you’ as you head to the kitchen.

You’re making food for you and Wanda when you hear her come out of the bathroom. You’d figured she’d stay in there longer, but the sound of her footsteps coming down the hall tell you that you thought wrong. You look up from the pan in front of you to see Wanda’s clean and changed into more comfortable looking clothes. She still looks tired, so you hurry to finish up her food as you gesture to the counter.

“There’s some water for you. I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

Wanda nods as she goes to sit at the counter with a sigh. She leans on it heavily as she tries not to fall asleep before she gets to eat. She’s starving, but she’s also very aware of the fact that you’ve barely responded to her pleas and explanations of what happened. She can tell you’re still upset, but she doesn’t know what you’re thinking right now and it’s stressing her out.

“Stop stressing. I’m not just getting you back on your feet before I kick you out.”

Wanda looks up in surprise and you can’t help but smile slightly at how stunned she looks. You hate that she’s so worried, but you’re not going to lie to her. You finish up plating her food before you walk over to the counter to hand it to her with a smile. You grab her a fork before sitting down beside her with a sigh.

“I’m still angry and despite how much I want to just make it about my birthday, I really just hate that I had to see you at a fucking strip club.”

Wanda cringes slightly at this but she just waits for you to finish. She’d spent a couple of hours lying against your door last night wondering how she’d feel if she’d been in your place. She would have been furious and she probably would have dumped you on the spot too. That said…she knew you’d never do something like this to her. She didn’t care about the circumstances; you’d never entertain anything so suggestive if you were in a relationship. It was a little complicated and difficult to really rationalize because of it. You sigh again as you run a hand through your hair. You’d been doing this nearly all day and you’re sure you’ve pulled out a fair amount at this point.

“I don’t want to know about the details of your work, Wanda. For both of our sakes, but I want to be able to trust that you won’t do something like this again.”

Wanda’s already nodding but you don’t give her a chance to speak up. She’s still holding her fork and not eating as she waits for your verdict. She wouldn’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with her after this, but she prays that you’re more forgiving than she’d be. She knows you are. You’re also not as prideful as she is, so again, it’s not fair to try to judge you based off her own standards.

“So don’t do something like this again, or we’ll be over, okay?”

Wanda reaches out for your hand and you only hesitate for a second before you take hers. She squeezes it and you take a deep breath as she promises to not fuck up like this again.

“I won’t. I promise. I won’t step foot in there again, or any place like it.”

You nod and offer Wanda a smile as you push her glass towards her. She gets the hint and she starts to drink and then eventually eats what you cooked for her. She’s not sure what she did to deserve you, but she’ll be damned if she does anything to lose you for good.

“Good, well eat up. I haven’t slept in almost 24 hours and would like to go to bed.”

You can’t help but laugh as Wanda near shovels the food into her mouth, and you reach out to stop her as you shake your head. She looks to you nervously with a mouth full of food and you can’t help but sigh in defeat. You love this idiot and you hope she doesn’t give you a reason to leave her.

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x you #silver spring au drabble #silver springs au #silver springs #silver springs drabble

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

Drunken revelations

And another anonymous request finished because I was inspired :D If you have promts, quotes or something for Cal x reader shorts, send them over :D

Request: “Cal Kestis x drunk reader??? Fluffy and comfort maybe he finds out about something from her past cause she’s drunk and doesn’t register she’s saying it?”

I think I might have gone a little dramatic here, but fluff is always included ;)

________You didn’t often consume alcohol. And it showed.

You were sitting in Pyloon‘s Saloon with Bode, waiting for Cal to return from a little security round he liked to make around the place before the end of the day. The last thing you needed was the Empire finding your safe haven. Or more Bedlam Raiders causing trouble. Sometimes, you would accompany the Jedi on his patrols, but this evening you had helped out Greeze in the kitchen before being invited to join your other companion.

Bode was nice and always had exciting stories to tell. This evening, however, he was pensive and in clear need of someone to lend him an ear. He had spoken a lot about Kata, his daughter, revealing how much he missed her and how he regretted not being able to spend more time with her. This fatherly side was what warmed you to the man, as not many were as engaged as him.

During his little monologue, he had kept ordering drinks for the two of you, and out of solidarity, you had downed one glass after another with him. At first, you hadn’t felt anything, but after the third round, your head started to grow fuzzy.

Cal returned after the fourth, his face betraying a mixture of surprise, amusement and a little worry. He had never seen you in such a state.

“Cal… You’re back.”, you spoke, noticing that the control over your voice was slipping. “Was it fun?”

“Fun?”, he asked with a chuckle. “No. But at least it’s quiet.” He took a seat next to you, ordering something for himself as he joined your conversation for a while. Eventually, Bode said his goodbyes, wanting to record another story for Kata.

“He is such a good dad.”, you said, as the two of you watched the dark-haired man disappear through the door. Cal was about to agree when you tacked on a remark that had him raise his brows instead. “I am jealous of Kata.”

You were staring into your half-empty glass now, a longing expression on your face.

Cal cocked his head toward you, trying to get you to look at him and explain. Although the two of you had been dating for a few weeks now, after a rather surprising confession on the battlefield when you thought you were about to die, he knew nothing about your past. For good reason.

But you couldn’t keep it hidden forever either… and the alcohol was clearly loosening your tongue.

“I wish my dad had cared that much.”, you spoke, your eyes finally meeting Cal’s. A hand on your shoulder invited you to continue.

“He was too busy with his career. He had big plans… My mother and I… we just had to wait. Day after day after day. For a visit. For a message even. Sometimes we heard nothing for weeks until suddenly we were called to attend some event with him. He paraded us around and then forgot we existed again for weeks.” You were bitter and it showed.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”, Cal spoke softly, trying to be encouraging without knowing what to say. He couldn’t relate. He didn’t even know his parents.

“He did get his wish… he got that promotion… that position he had lusted after. And it made me hate him even more.”, you took another sip, even though you clearly had more than enough already. Cal knew that too and subtly pulled the glass away from you once you had placed it back down.

“You should hate me…”

The sudden change of topic startled the Jedi and he found himself blinking in surprise before scooting closer. A finger under your chin brought your face back in line with his after you had turned away. “Do you know what you are saying, Y/N?”

“I do… You should hate me. For who I am. For who my father is.”

“You are drunk. I’m taking you to bed.”, Cal decided, sliding from the bar stool, ready to pick you up, but your following words had him stalling for a moment.

“Tarkin… My real name is Y/N Tarkin.”

Cal’s hands stopped inches from you, as he just stared. He knew that name. The man was part of the top command chain of the Empire after all. Responsible for endless suffering across the Galaxy. And you were supposed to be his daughter? How?

He had met you as part of the rebellion. You were fighting the Empire with as much ferocity as he was.

“That’s not who you are as a person, though.”, he started slowly, allowing his initial feelings to settle.

“How do you know?”

“Because I see you, Y/N. I see what you do to fight him. I see how much you care about the people. I see how much you love me, even though we should be enemies if you truly were his daughter through and through.”

How could he say these things so easily? How could he trust you so much?

Because he loved you, your muddied brain slurred.

“You know what Merrin taught me? Where you come from doesn’t have to define you. You choose your own path in life… and you have clearly chosen yours.”

Tears were brimming in your eyes and you tried to move in for an embrace… just to almost lose your balance on the bar stool and hug the floor instead. Cal’s arms caught you just in time.

“I think I’m drunk…”, you whispered and despite the heavy topic a few seconds ago, Cal couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“You very much are.”, he agreed. “Come, I’ll bring you to bed.”

“Your bed?”

“Ours.”And with that he hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders, picking you up with ease.

“I like that…”, you mumbled, head resting against his chest as he carried you downstairs to the room Greeze had prepared for him. The room he now shared with you.

“What do you mean?”

“This… All of this… You.”

He gave you a gentle smile, before leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Any other dark secrets you want to get off your chest?”, he asked, finally placing you down on the bed.

“Just one…”

Your eyes were feeling so heavy all of a sudden, the softness of the bed beckoning you to sleep.

“If I ever have kids… I want you to be their dad…” And with that revelation you drifted off, leaving Cal dumbfounded yet absolutely happy.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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lumierexfics · 1 year

Note

I’m not quite sure if this is the right way to do this, this is my first time requesting anything, but I was wondering if I could request a fic for kinktober? Maybe a Papa Copia x Reader that’s like an enemies to lovers where one or both of them just snap and they end up hate-fucking, but it turns fluffy towards the end? You totally don’t have to if you don’t want to or if it goes against any of your rules, ‘‘twas just a thought. 😊

● LIVESTREAM NAME : Your name is a sin I breathe!

description chat log : Papa Emeritus IV comes home late to see a date and You in the kitchen. Papa Emeritus IV needs to make this up to you in the only way he can.

⭑ USERS : Papa Emeritus IV (Copia), Reader

!! CONTENT WARNINGS : 18+ MDNI! Second Person POV, Copia being extremely OOC!, Implied Established Relationship, Miscommunication, Comfort sex !!

A/N : Let me know if this isn’t what you wanted so I can rewrite this to your likings!

< ao3 link Event >

It was the first week since he was anointed by the Clergy to become Papa Emeritus the fourth. The fruits he planted finally and unexpectedly came to fruition with the sudden anointing. As he no longer spent any time behind the desk, checking the amount of money spent from the funds of the clergy from the previous Papa Emeritus and the eye bags that never seemed to go away. Yet, there was one person that remained the same which was you.

Copia couldn’t wait to hold you in his arms as he once did but the actual day of becoming Papa was an unexpected workload that seemed to engulf him whole. Till, he began to see you less and less as more days were spent in his study room; scattered papers and reviewing old scriptures to mix into lyrics.

Copia came to his room, seeing your back turned and burnt out candles on a small dinner table. Yellow hue of the lightbulb surrounded the kitchen as a bottle of uncorked wine next to your hand.

“You missed our date, Copia,” you sniffled, wiping away tears. “Do you actually care?”

Copia stopped absolutely in his shoes, he misremembered the date thinking that it was tomorrow rather than today. His hair was disheveled, smoothing it back with his hand as you had worn your good clothes for the intimate date.

He walked closer to you and you had turned around to face him but he had gotten on his knees. His eyes staring up at you with such devotion and unbridled love, his hands held your trembling hands; softly kissing your inner palms then outer palms.

“Please, I didn’t mean to miss the date,” he begged. “Is there anything special that I can do to make you feel better, amore?”

You looked at him and helped him up from kneeling. His gloved hand held your face and he looked at your lips then to your eyes; redden from your tears.

“Can I kiss you, amore?” He asked.

“Yes, Copia,” you answered.

Copia softly kissed you and his hands held you close to his chest. As your hands interwoven within the strands of Copia’s hair and his soft kisses remained with an edge of flames that he always kept hidden from you. His lips remained on your lips as scattered black kisses from his papal face paint smeared on your face and upper lip and always teetered on the edge of your face, wanting to ravage your neck but you hadn’t given him permission to allow him.

He helped you onto the countertop, his gloved hands caressed each crevice of your body, his papal face paint smeared more on your thighs.

“It seems that I have neglected you, amore?” He asked.

You could only seem to muster a nod as you hadn’t been exposed to this new version of Copia. He wasn’t the meek man that once was a Cardinal— a new identity was bestowed on him when he became Papa. He was always such an intimate lover yet you wished that he made it to the somewhat small bed or even the couch rather than having intimate relations on the countertop.

Copia seemed to have noticed your unease on the countertop and he showered you with more kisses, leading you to the couch. Yet, he somehow still held the familiar nervousness during his Cardinal days. Copia removed his gloves; hands utterly warm. He beckoned you closer to sit on his lap and eyes that were filled with desire and unbridled passion.

“Can I kiss you, Copia?” You asked.

“Amore, you can.” He smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. “I will not deny you anything that you desire.”

You kissed him, softly while his hands pulled you closer to him till it felt like you two were going to melt together from the amount of flames that spread across your body and his.

His and your lower garments were long discarded and sprawled on the floor while your hands gripped his shoulders as you loosened your grip on him. His fingers traced your spine and he held you close while thrusting, he murmured soft praises in your ears.

“So good to me,” he murmured.

#ghost band x reader #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #papa emeritus 4 x reader #papa Copia x reader #copia x reader #copia x reader smut #papa emeritus iv x reader smut

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kamryn1963 · 2 months

Text

Fourth of July- Al, Jay, Mouse fanfic

A few days before Jay Halstead joined the Intelligence unit, Hank invited Al out for dinner. Al had a feeling Hank had something to tell him or ask him and he had been right.

Hank had explained some long story about Antonio and deals and promises and other things Al half listened to until Hank finally got to the point. They had a new detective joining their unit in a week. Jay Halstead. A former Army Ranger.

“So you want me to bond with this kid because we were both in the army?” Al asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey you said it not me”. Hank replied with a smirk as he took a sip of his drink.

“It’s been thirty years since I was in the army Hank. I’ve forgotten most of my experience”. Al responded but they both knew it was a lie.

Hank hadn’t said anything, just looked at him and finally dropped the subject when Al agreed to try.

That was three years ago. The first year Al had mentioned he served. To test the waters or something. So Jay knew in case he ever wanted to talk. Nothing had ever really come of it which was fine to Al. Especially when Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz joined the unit, Al thought that if Jay needed to talk to anyone it was probably better if it was somebody he actually served with.

Now it was the Fourth of July. A day Al hated because he hated fireworks. He hated the sounds, hated the lights, hated the way they ended up with him having flashbacks to times he wished he would forget. He should be over it but Al wasn’t and he was forced to relive it today. Like every other fucking year.

Al’s plan was to lock himself in his apartment and hopefully get so drunk and maybe high, that he’d pass out before the fireworks started.

Al was getting ready to go home when Jay came up to him looking almost nervous. He saw Mouse spare them a glance, make eye contact with Jay before speed walking out of the bullpen.

“Do you have plans tonight, O?” Jay asked casually but Al knew there was more to what he was asking.

“I don’t do fireworks”. Al replied almost on instinct.

“Neither do I, man. Don’t worry. Me and Mouse were going to go to my place to drink if you want to join us?” Jay asked.

Al had a feeling they had those plans for the same reason Al was going to get trashed alone. At least if he agreed Hank and Trudy might stop worrying that he’s shutting down again.

“Sure”. Al agreed.

“Good. The fireworks remind me too much about gunfire and war and I know it’s harder for Mouse. If he’s with me at least I know he’s okay. And I had a feeling you understood”. Jay’s voice was quiet and Al nodded.

“I do understand”. Al left it at that for now as Adam and Kevin were still hanging around the bullpen and this isn’t something he really wanted aired out.

Al headed right over to Jay’s from th district and soon the three of them were in the living room with their first beers. Mouse had closed all the blinds and windows and Jay was finding a movie.

“Jay mentioned you served too”. Mouse said softly. The first word he’d said to Al since they sat down.

“I did. The 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team part of a special response team stationed in Italy”. Al replied honestly.

“Do- do you think about it a lot?” Mouse asked almost hesitantly like he wasn’t sure what was okay to ask.

“Sometimes. Especially on days like today”. Al replied. After everything he had seen and done as a cop the trauma from the army kind of got pushed to the back but it was still present.

It still followed Alvin like a shadow.

“That’s why you have us”. Jay said as he settled on a movie.

“To traumatized army vets”. Mouse proposed as he stuck his beer out. Jay rolled his eyes but stuck his own beer out and with a barely noticeable smirk, Al followed.

“To traumatized army vets”. Jay and Al repeated. The air felt lighter as they sunk into the couch as the movie began playing.

When the first firework went off and Mouse tensed up, Jay placed a reassuring hand on his arm as Al grabbed a nearby blanket for him.

When Al started hearing gunfire instead of fireworks, Mouse moved the blanket so it was covering all of them. As they sat there and watched the movie, Al hoped that Hank would be happy. They were bonding like Hank had wanted.

Al could imagine the “I told you so” he would get when Hank ultimately found out about this night. Right now Al just enjoyed the company. Maybe this day wasn’t that bad anymore and maybe just maybe they could all start healing.

#chicago pd #alvin olinsky #jay halstead #greg gerwitz #hank voight #hurt/comfort #trauma #army #bonding over trauma #drinking & talking #intelligence unit as family #ao3 #fanfiction

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lilahaze · 8 months

Text

"finding alice"

alice was five years old the last time i saw her.

november twenty-fourth, 1961: my daughter and i visit the local supermarket. with reluctance, i allow her to walk alongside me without her hand in mine. i turn to grab a box of cereal, expecting a sea of brunette waves awaiting my return. i find a lack thereof.

i triple check every aisle, the dusty parking lot, and speak to several employees before i can bring myself to call my wife on the grocery’s rotary telephone.

the loss of my child is not my fault. how could I have known that if i turned away for a moment, she’d be gone when i looked back?

norma’s pitiful sobs echo through the tinny speakers. my words of remorse do nothing to soothe her. when i can no longer stand the crackle of her choked breaths, i quickly draw the conversation to a close and return the telephone to its place. an employee empathetically claps his hand on my shoulder as i dial the number of our small town’s police department.

a manager and several employees litter the crew room as i stand, quiet and composed, awaiting the police.

soon after arrival, the sheriff opened an official investigation. for months, the community did all it could to find alice. unfortunately, as with similar cases, her disappearance was mercilessly shoved to the back burner with time.

my wife and i visited the police station nearly a year after her disappearance, desperate for the officers to continue their once-devoted search. the head sheriff, feet propped up on an oak desk with a cigar to his lips, told us that there was no further assistance that the force was willing to provide save for their condolences. he admitted that our daughter was likely dead. we were informed that, of course, we were permitted to continue with private searches if we wished.

of course, we did.

one week after our visit to the sheriff, i received an envelope addressed to mr. and mrs. william minor: my wife and i. there was no return address; i assumed the envelope contained private information regarding alice and brought it inside.

i settled into my recliner and opened it.

there was a picture of alice inside. her face was tear-stained and bruised. tattered clothes adorned her frame and fear etched her gaze. she held a wrinkled paper reading, “FIND ME.” the image was stamped, “11/24/1961:” the date she was taken.

i mourned privately with my head in my hands waiting for norma to return. she’d gone bowling with her girlfriends as i’d been pushing her to get out of the house more as time had passed. i was glad she had not been home to witness my feminine reaction. however much it pained us, we needed to return to a state of normalcy.

i heard the front door open around 3:30. i turned to see my wife, bowling shoes in hand and with a socialized smile, waving to two women on the front porch. she pulled the heavy door closed, greeting me as she moved to place her shoes by the door. norma paused as she noticed my grim expression.

by showing her the picture, i sealed my fate of a long night spent consoling norma whilst speaking with a hurried young cop in our parlor. he took the image as if to absolve us, promising that the police department would further pursue alice’s case.

we dared to hope for a miracle: that alice would be returned to us. the police uncovered no further evidence relating to the image, forcing us to accept that alice was likely dead.

a year later, i found another unmarked envelope in the mail.

alike the last image, this image showed a battered alice appearing a year older. nausea caused my stomach to churn. she clutched a piece of scrap paper in her hands, a broken pinky hanging off the left edge. it read, “WHY HAVEN’T YOU FOUND ME?”

i couldn’t answer the question the torn paper bore, because why hadn’t i? i was her father: the man of the house. how could i raise a strong son to bear my name if i couldn’t protect a fragile five-year-old girl?

as you have likely come to expect, the police were useless.

i began to spend more time out of the house with my aging mother. it pained me greatly to watch her fade further with each visit. i poured my funds into cars that would pull into her driveway late at night much to my wife’s protest.

norma was too meek, too weak-willed to ever truly make a difference in neither my opinion nor actions and she knew it. i bore no responsibility to reveal to whom i paid my dues. she gathered her suggestions off the dusty dining room chair that remained unsat in for two years and quietly faded into the tawny couch, therapy pamphlets and muddled grief in her sickened arms.

my wife resorted to silence, casting her disapproving gaze to the maple wood flooring with every envelope i passed to greedy hands. i laid awake at night often, my eyes pinned open in guilt as i yearned for another image. with low funds, we had been sustaining ourselves with tough meat from deep in the freezer. i had fallen victim to a childless marriage and penny pinching; news of alice was my greatest desire.

it was a cruel joke that i became motherless two days prior to the third anniversary of alice’s kidnapping.

grieving her death, i made the trip to my mailbox through the snow in the early morning of november twenty-fourth. an unmarked envelope awaited me.

the image resembled the others. alice appeared a year older, beaten and bruised. she held a piece of paper that read, “ARE YOU STILL LOOKING FOR ME?”

i had indeed ceased searching for my daughter for my sanity. police had located no leads nor evidence. chances for my dining room table to become full again were slim to none.

norma and i chose not to bother the police with another dead end image. we mourned privately in our suburban home.

the entries littering the floral journal i’d purchased my wife to cope grew more concerning. i'd initially begun to flip through the cursive pages to monitor her progress. the last thing i needed was to have to admit her to an asylum. it’s a shame that i could not afford a lobotomy as i would have gladly taken the town doctor up on his offer after reading about her religious qualms about alice, herself and i.

i tore up the house in an explosive argument that arose from my plundering of norma’s journal. she cried as i rummaged through the drawers for her catholic paraphernalia.

i had never bothered to explore norma’s religious tendencies as they seemed harmless, and on occasion, productive, especially during her initial struggle to conceive. the outlet i had provided her with kept her hopeful until she fell pregnant with alice during a late night spent on my leather truck seats. it was unfortunate that i had to bury her rosaries beneath a half gallon of expired milk and dark coffee grounds but i am a faithful husband. i am a faithful husband that did what had to be done.

the arrival of the annual letter only served to worsen norma’s state.

i am a faithful husband. i bought a dog to occupy her: male, with a spotted coat and meek eyes alike her own. that fucking dog barked through the hours, whined at the door whenever i'd bring my wife to bed, and dug holes in the backyard i’d been meaning to work on for years but hardly ever gotten around to making progress with.

i hated that dog: an english springer spaniel. my options were to purchase one of the neighbor’s puppies for ten dollars or adopt a cat from the local shelter. the cat would have been free to a good home, but i couldn’t have possibly tolerated such a feminine animal in my kempt home.

she named him gunner after presenting me with a list of names. begrudgingly, i thought of alice.

i am a faithful husband; i allowed her to name him whatever she wanted. i gave that dog a home away from rusty chains, dusty kibble, and fight rings. i gave that dog a life fit for a man, filled with table scraps and head scratches.

in return, the dog dug up bones in my backyard and left them for norma to gather whilst she gardened.

the first bone she presented me with was a femur: a deer bone. i laughed, explaining that it must have come from the tough deer we had eaten two winters ago. norma thought nothing of it.

november twenty-fourth, 1965: the fourth anniversary. alice would have been nine. i knew what to expect. i took the letter from the mailman myself this time, cup of dark coffee in hand. i did not bother to ask him where the letters came from. i knew well that he was merely the messenger. it is discourteous to shoot the messenger. that’s why i kept my .22 caliber tucked under the bed, away from the messenger.

this image read, “YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.”

i knew that this was the last image i would receive.

i crammed it into my bedside drawer. norma had never dared to rummage through my belongings, therefore i had thought that it was a safe bet to keep the envelope alongside the others.

i found myself wishing that i had scraped together the money for a lobotomy when she came to me that evening, crumpled envelope in hand.

“how could you keep my daughter from me, william?” she cried.

“i will never forgive you for what you have done!”

i kept norma inside. yes, our appearance was of drastic importance to me, especially after our loss of alice. however, damage control became my priority. i drew our curtains and begrudgingly toted her to twice weekly social events to save face after she publicly entertained the idea of plundering police files for information about our daughter.

i have no idea why norma thought that her girlfriends’ loyalties laid with her rather than their husbands. i beat her until violets bloomed across her abdomen and spine.

it had long been clear that wherever our daughter was, she was unfindable. norma had been nothing short of assured so. how, so many years later, could my wife not even begin to move on?

i bellowed that my goal was to protect her. there was no need to torture the woman with another dead end image. she threw my calloused hand from her shoulder in disgust as i brought my lips to hers after generously allowing her a night of space. it was all i could do not to litter her cheekbones with the saliva pooling in my jaw, reeling from my wife’s rejection. i had slept on the couch; i had become a man who is cast from his bed. how could the wife of such a man reject his touch as well?

i begrudgingly watched her figure shrink as she moved towards the master bedroom, leaving me in the parlor. my wife stopped to the wood, gathered the dog in her arms, kicked off her pink flats and left me idle.

gunner was relentless in his pursuit of spring; he dug through the snow until the pads of his paws were shredded raw and flakes froze into his fur. he brought every bone he found to norma, his tail alive and eyes as bright as a child’s. my wife grew suspicious of the amount of bones that lay beneath the dirt.

she asked if I had buried the deer carcass in the garden, the dog at her heels with a rib in his jaws. i ashed my cigarette and stood.

“well, what was i supposed to do with it?” i asked, exasperated.

“go back outside and enjoy the weather, norma.”

norma stared at me from the doorway for a moment before exiting. i settled back into my recliner and scowled at the dog.

in the years following alice’s disappearance, norma had grown increasingly resistant to my touch: an effect i had not expected. she cried and clawed at loose sheets as i forced myself upon her whenever desire struck me. i left her with violets littering her breasts in the shape of the son she refused to bear me.

today, november twenty-fourth, 1966, i awoke to my wife slinking out of bed. her bare feet came into contact with the wood, red toenails clashing against the mahogany as she hurriedly bunched the frayed ends of her robe in white fists. i would not have noticed her absence if she had not stumbled over the spaniel at our door; gunner yelped loudly as her foot came into contact with his spotted back.

my eyelids blearily rose as my pupils focused on my wife, her hand on the worn doorknob. she drew her hand over gunner soothingly before our eyes locked.

it was the anniversary of alice’s kidnapping.

i threw the comforter from myself. the dog cowered between norma’s legs yet mustered enough courage to emit a feeble growl as i stood.

my wife turned and fled, leaving gunner between us. i knew that she was headed for the mailbox. i stooped to the floor, closing my fist around the gun under the bed.

i never understood her obsession with alice, for what was the point of a daughter?

i closed the distance between gunner and i. he lifted those meek eyes to meet mine as i wrapped my calloused digits around his red collar and dragged him through the house. as i pushed the front door open, i saw norma at the mailbox, envelope in hand.

she greedily ripped it open as i watched. alice’s teeth fell to the dirt. brunette curls alike our daughter’s billowed around norma’s sunken face as she turned to face me. her expression revealed what i had long suspected.

i put my caliber to gunner’s head and pulled the trigger.

norma fell to her knees in defeat. her adverse reaction opened the opportunity for me to run to her collapsed figure, leaving the dog’s corpse on the porch. weak sobs wracked her thin frame as i snaked my arms underneath her own in order to pull her to her feet.

i towed my wife to the garden as she cried. i laid her in the soil, in between the tulips and petunias, and pressed the tip of my caliber in between her eyes. with an echoing blast, her body fell to the dirt, brain matter staining the petals surrounding us.

i buried what remained of her next to the dog and our daughter. norma may have not borne me a son, but i had enough meat to fill the freezer this winter.

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

Text

HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 31

*Warning: Adult Content*

That afternoon, Doctor Ambrose Thorne helps Noah Hunter move his things out of the spare bedroom and into his.

Noah has only called the little space his own for a few weeks but it already feels like home and he doesn't like the thought of someone else sitting in 'his' comfortable chair by the window or sleeping in 'his' bed.

Ambrose's bed, on the other hand, looms in Noah’s mind like some leviathan, waiting to rise from the deep and swallow him whole.

‘I've slept in it once already, slept with Ambrose once already (a fact it seems he treats as common knowledge) but that had happened almost unexpectedly and I hadn't had a whole day to work my nerves into an anxious tangle beforehand.’

Now, the thought that Ambrose might want, might expect, something like that again, has Noah jumping out of his skin every time the handsome vet speaks.

Ambrose notices, of course and after the fourth time Noah drops something at the sound of his voice, he makes the young man face the issue head on.

"Now see here, little wolf," he says, forcing Noah to stop collecting the pile of books that he'd just dropped and helping him to his feet.

"You're wound up tighter 'n a spring again and I can guess why but you needn't fear. Mate or not, I won't force anything on you that you don't want."

They're standing in the hall, halfway between Ambrose bedroom and the spare room, near the top of the wide flight of stairs.

It's late afternoon by this time.

Slanting light filters in from the windows below and golden motes of dust float in the air.

"Or even that you do want,but won't admit," Ambrose adds as Noah straighten his glasses and attempts to conceal the nervous tremble in his hands.

"I know I've been a bit forward so far, a bit impatient, maybe but I've no wish to cause distress. If you'd rather, I'll make do with the couch."

"N-no," Noah stammers.

"I d-don't want you to sleep on the c-couch. I j-just..."

He stops himself and swallows.

"I just have a hard time trusting... this."

Noah gestures between them and Ambrose frowns.

"You don't trust that I love you?" Ambrose asks, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Because I am in love with you, little wolf. I haven't said it yet but I'm saying it now and I'll keep saying it until you believe me, if that's what it takes."

Noah’s face heats and his heart brightens at Ambrose’s words but the young man shakes his head.

"It's not... It's not that I don't trust you," he says slowly.

"It's my own feelings that I don't... that I can't trust, yet."

Ambrose’s frown deepens at the corners of his mouth.

"I know you don't want to talk of the past, Noah but tell me something," he says.

"Not everything, just something. Help me understand."

Noah stares up at him a moment as he realizes that, for the all the secrets he may have, at this point he knows more about Ambrose than he knows about him.

"Alright," Noah says.

"Not now, though. Let's finish this first."

Ambrose nods, looking a bit surprised that he has agreed and they move the last of Noah’s few belongings in companionable silence.

~ ☾ ~

That evening, they take Dougal for a walk by the lake.

He's excited to be back on his favorite trail, where Noah hasn't taken him since the night when he had the feeling of being watched and had his close call with a car.

In the deepening gloom beneath the trees Noah gets an inkling of the same feeling again but with Ambrose at his side, he feels safe and secure and finds he enjoys being out in the air almost as much as Dougal does.

They reach the lake's far end before Noah decides how, exactly, to tell Ambrose what he needs to know.

He halt at a spot where the path is very near the shore and stare up at the purple-gold sky, lit with the last reflected light of the vanished sun and takes a deep breath of cool, water-scented air.

Noah’s throat starts to constrict and he pauses to clear it but thankfully Ambrose doesn't interrupt.

"I mean I dated a bit, in college," Noah says, continuing his awkward ramble.

"Or I tried, at least because it's what one does but I never... um... got very far with 'things' you know. Eventually I figured I was just fated to be alone and I was fine with that because there's nothing wrong with being alone, you know and then... Well, then I met Thomas."

Noah watchs a pair of bats swoop low over the water, hunting bugs.

Nearby, Dougal noses along the shoreline, tail wagging as he pokes about in the grass.

He disturbs something that slips into the water and vanishes with a splash, his surprised bark echoing sharp across the lake.

Dougal runs back to us, excited with his accomplishment, and I kneel to pet him, distracting myself from my own words.

"Thomas was a lot older and had a lot more experienced," Noah goes on.

"And he... Well, it just sort of happened, I guess. I thought that's how it was supposed to be, you know? I thought what I felt for him was love and that it was what he wanted from me, so I... But, anyway, I was wrong."

His face heats and Noah start sto look away again but Ambrose takes hold of his shoulders and keeps him from turning.

"I understand, Noah," he says.

"At least, I begin to. You thought you had something with this fellow and then, whatever it was that he did, whatever it was that happened, you learned otherwise. You learned it wasn't real and now you're afraid this isn't real, between us and you don't trust yourself to know the difference. Is that about it?"

"Partly," Noah agrees and bites his lip, unable to meet Ambrose’ eyes.

"But it's not so much that I don't trust it's real, it's more that I'm afraid it's real because as much as Thomas hurt me, I know it could have been a lot worse."

Noah stops and looks up at Ambrose and knows every measure of his pain is there for him to see in his eyes.

"I could have loved him," Noah whispers.

"And I think it would have killed me if I had."

Ambrose’s brows pinch but rather than speak, he pulls Noah into his arms.

"Well now, there's the real difference," he says against Noah’s ear.

"He didn't love you and you didn't love him. On the other hand, as sudden as it's come and as much as you may find it hard to believe, little wolf, I love you very much. And I won't put words in your mouth but..."

"Yeah," Noah says and blinks hard against the tears threatening his dignity.

"I guess as much as it scares me, I know it's true. My heart's made its choice and I... I love you, too, Ambrose Thorne."

~ ☾ ~

Later, in Ambrose’s bedroom, in his wide, soft bed, the handsome vet lets Noah set the pace and he sets it slow.

The first time, Noah had given in to the strength of Ambrose’s lust, to the overwhelming and unfamiliar feeling of being so wanted.

This time, Noah’s mind and heart are ready for him, ready to make Ambrose his and ready to be claimed.

In other words, the first time they had sex, this time they make love.

It seems natural that Noah had be the one to receive Ambrose and though the handsome vet had offered with surprising willingness to let Noah have him instead, the young man preferred it this way.

With a pillow beneath Noah’s hips, Ambrose gazes down at him with an expression of open admiration and a slight smile on his lips, his chest rising and falling with his quickening breath.

"You're beautiful, my little wolf, every bit of you and I'll die a happy man if I can call you mine."

"Go on then," Noah says, a little breathless already from his kisses and his gentle touch, from the heat of his mouth and hands.

“Take me."

Ambrose enters Noah with surprising ease, sliding slow and deep and the young man realizes that, like his heart, his body knows its mate and is ready for him.

Ambrose shuts his eyes, biting back a groan and Noah feels him thicken and stiffen even more as he begins to thrust his hips, taking his pleasure and giving Noah his.

Ambrose moves steady and sure, long hair gleaming dark over his shoulders like bronze in the dim light and his skin shining with a sheen of sweat, as does Noah’s.

The young man feels like shadow to Ambrose’s moonlight, fuel to his fire, each in love with the other's borderlines and soon Noah is moving with him, meeting his passion with his own.

Then their careful dance unravels as Ambrose loses himself in the build of pleasure.

His hand tightens as it slides over Noah’s aching shaft and at last he pushes deep, swells within his mate and with an almost soundless cry, finds release.

Something in that sudden spill of heat and in the ragged edges of Ambrose’s voice are all Noah needs to crest the final wave and light bursts behind his eyes as he joins him at that height of ecstasy.

Then it is a gentle fall from the other side, more kisses and soft whispers of devotion, a steady warmth burning in Noah’s core, his own secret fire lit at last, a feeling of quiet happiness and no more fear and finally, sleep.

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write4tomorrow · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: The Best Lies

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x CIA Agent!Reader

Summary: During the training with Maverick for the mission, the pilots must also complete “hostile condition” training with a CIA interrogator (reader). Hangman thinks this type of training is a waste of time until the reader exposes him. Enemies to Lovers.

Genre: Adventure / Fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Epilogue (Complete)

You swirled your drink and leaned back in your seat. It had been a difficult few weeks.

The pilots that took your training seriously were doing well, but you knew that Maverick’s training was what mattered. The flying had taken it’s toll on several of the pilots and everyone was stressed about leaving for the aircraft carrier tomorrow. Tonight, you decided to leave the base early and went to The Hard Deck by yourself. Your beer tasted bitter in your mouth and you wondered if it would be easier or harder if you spent the night in the company of the Top Gun pilots.

Despite your best efforts and your admittedly cold demeanor, you had become too close to all of the pilots. Rooster and Phoenix were probably your closest friends in the world, but you knew that they were the best pilots. You wouldn’t be surprised if Maverick chose them as part of the assault team. But even the other pilots had become your friends. Bob was the best karaoke partner; Fanboy always knew the punchline to the joke before you told it; Coyote never said no to a game of cards; Harvard and Yale taught you how to actually play Dogfight Football; and Hangman…

You two didn’t speak for almost a week. Almost.

A week ago today you beat him in the interrogation game at The Hard Deck. Some of the pilots were still poking fun at his loss. You were glad to win the interrogation game, but you hadn’t heard his taunting voice in days. He was avoiding you like oil on water. At first you didn’t mind, but as you continued to listen to the Dogfights over the radio, you kept an ear out for his voice specifically. And as you did, you began to notice little things.

The first time you noticed something was during a dogfight with Harvard, Yale, and Hangman. Predictably, Hangman left to chase down Maverick. But as he talked over the headset, you heard him almost methodically whispering lyrics. You had to really listen, but they were the lyrics to your favorite song. Thankfully you were alone, listening to the dogfight over a personal radio from the comfort of your room, but you hummed along to the melody. Rooster had played it the night before at The Hard Deck and you practically screamed the lyrics in the middle of the bar. Did Hangman hear that? If he was there, you didn’t notice him.

The fourth time you noticed something strange was when Hangman, in the middle of a dogfight with Maverick, asked, “Hey Mav, why’d you never get married?”

“Sometimes I wish I did,” Maverick answered, “is this a new tactic? Try to distract me over the headset?”

“Was there ever a girl you could see yourself with?” Hangman pushed.

“Hangman, why are you asking?” Maverick asked after a moment.

“I’ve just been thinking about it…” was all Hangman said.

The most recent time you noticed something was going on with Hangman happened when he tried to fly through the simulated valley for the first time. You were in the rec room with most of the other pilots, trying not to be impressed by Hangman’s flying. He was staying below the 100 foot hardeck and swerved left and right to avoid being targeted by the surface to air missiles. This was the fourth time he had flown this track. He was even beating his personal record while avoiding the SAM’s.

Coyote and Fanboy were having trouble keeping up.

“Damn, Hangman, what’s got you flying so fast?” Fanboy’s strained voice came over the radio.

“I’ve got a lot to lose,” Hangman answered. You rolled your eyes and heard Coyote give a small chuckle.

“The ego,” you mouthed to Rooster.

“Nothing can compare to a man in love,” Coyote said over the headset. Hangman just scoffed but you froze where you were standing. Rooster turned to you then and he looked as confused as you felt. Rooster raised his hands and shrugged, he didn’t know what it was about either. But you were eerily aware of the other pilots in the rec room with you. All of you had been listening to the radio but now a few people’s attention shifted towards you.

But none of that compared to the fight you had with Hangman just hours ago. You were playing a game of cards with Coyote in the rec room. There were some other pilots around, but it was a game of poker and only you and Coyote were left in the game. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob were looking over your shoulder while Payback was hovering next to Coyote.

“Hey, Coyote,” you said slowly, “What was up with Hangman the other day?”

“What do you mean?” Coyote said. He was looking at you over the top of his cards. You knew you shouldn’t pry, but the pilots were leaving for the mission tomorrow. This may be your last chance to find out. Luckily, Phoenix knew where this conversation was going.

“You said Hangman was in love,” Phoenix answered. You watched Coyote’s eyes dart back towards his playing cards. Payback turned a nervous expression toward Coyote.

“It’s someone we know,” you whispered. After watching these pilots for weeks, you knew their ticks and tells. Coyote was trying to hide something from you and Payback knew what it was.

“Look, it’s probably not even that serious,” Payback said, trying to cover for Coyote.

“What do you know?” Rooster asked. You leaned forward in your chair, watching the two pilots in front of you. Neither of them spoke. Knowing the power of silence, you let the quietness become louder.

“Hey, y/n,” Bob muttered from behind you. Remaining silent, you chose to ignore him. You heard Phoenix shush him until…

“y/n,” Phoenix said. You heard something hesitant in her voice. You let out a breath and turned around to face Bob and Phoenix. But they weren’t looking at you. They turned toward the doorway of the rec room and you were surprised to see that even Rooster was looking that way. And when you realized why, you understood Phoenix's tone.

“Let’s talk in my office,” Cyclone said. He was standing in the doorway, awkwardly nodding at the other top gun pilots in the room. You nodded and tossed your cards down on the table and Coyote groaned.

“I should have called your bluff, Ice Queen,” he said with a smile. “I would have won.” You laughed with him and gave Bob, Phoenix, and Rooster a comforting look.

“See if you can find out anything else about Hangman,” you instructed. They all nodded and you followed your father out of the rec room.

The meeting with your dad was short. He asked how you were doing, how the pilots were, what you thought of the mission tomorrow, and if there was anyone you would recommend to sit out of the mission.

“Halo might be a weak link,” you confessed, “but everyone else - at least everyone that has been attending my classes - seems to be eligible for the mission.” Your dad nodded at your words.

“You’re still planning on going with us to the aircraft carrier tomorrow?” Your father leveled you with a look. You only nodded. There was something else going on and you could tell that your father wasn’t telling you something.

“It may not be a good idea,” Cyclone finally said. You felt your eyebrows pull together but patiently waited for an explanation. Cyclone ran a hand over his hair and continued: “I’ve noticed that you… distract some of the pilots. You’re attached to them. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“Are you kidding,” you laughed, “they call me Ice Queen. I don’t think I’m wearing anything on my sleeve.”

“You care about them,” Cyclone said. He let a small smile creep over his face as he looked at you. “You get it from your mother, you know.”

“I’m going to the aircraft carrier tomorrow and I plan on being in that control room during the mission,” you said but then added, “sir.” Your father locked eyes with you for a moment and he eventually nodded. He looked out the window and sighed. The sun was still above the horizon but it was quickly setting.

“I think you distract the pilots but you also motivate them. Mav agrees. It’s no secret the effect you have on them. Sometimes Mav can’t get through to them but you can. The way you talk to Pheonix and Bob, your relationship with Rooster, Coyote, Hangman-”

“Hangman?” You interrupted. Your father only raised one eyebrow in your direction. There was something about the look coming from your father that made your neck feel warm. Were you blushing?

“We’re leaving the base at 0600 tomorrow. Be ready.” Cyclone said, dismissing you. Gladly, you left his office and made your way to the rec room. But something was wrong. There were shouts coming from the rec room and you knew those voices.

You began running down the hall and could tell that Rooster was arguing with someone. It took a lot to get Rooster to that level of rage and you knew that it couldn’t be good. Where were Pheonix? Bob? What happened?

“It’s none of your business what I think of y/n or who I talk to about her.”

You stopped in your tracks. You were only a few steps from the doorway and you knew that voice too well. Hangman. Something about hearing him speak in person for the first time in a week startled you. It made you take a step toward the door but quickly stopped as Hangman spoke again.

“This is none of your business,” he continued. Before you could do anything, he walked out of the room and into the hall. He froze as he looked up to find you. Rooster, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix hurried out but Hangman didn’t look away from your face. Instead, he let his cocky facade slide into place.

“We’ll if it isn’t the Ice Queen herself.” Hangman slid his hands into his pockets as you walked toward him. Your steps were quick, decisive. No one spoke as you planted yourself less than a foot away from Hangman, glaring up at him.

“Are you going to break your vow of silence, sweetheart?” Hangman taunted. You mentally kicked yourself, wondering how you could ever miss his voice.

“Lieutenant, what is your problem?” You set your jaw and stared at him. A shadow fell over his face as he leaned in. His breath danced across your face.

“You,” he answered. He pushed past you and his footsteps echoed in the long hallway. You were left looking at your friends’ faces. Coyote gave you an apologetic look before he left to catch up with Hangman.

“He requested that you stay here at Top Gun tomorrow rather than join Cyclone, Warlock and Holdo in the command room.” Phoenix said. You blinked a few times. So that was why your father had wanted to talk to you. But if Hangman didn’t want you there…

“Where are you going?” Rooster asked as you began walking away. You weren’t sure where you were going but your body pushed you to move in the opposite direction of Hangman. Tears pricked your eyes and your breath was coming in small bursts. Rooster and Bob made an attempt to follow you, but Phoenix held them back.

You were so distraught that you walked most of the way to The Hard Deck before you even knew what you were doing. By a stroke of luck, Penny had found you walking in that direction. She was driving into work and knew something was wrong by the look on your face. Without asking any questions, Penny chauffeured you the rest of the way and poured a drink for you when you arrived. You sat in a small corner, watching the other patrons in the bar slowly trickle in as the night continued. The beer in your hand had become room temperature, but you didn’t care as it swirled around in the glass.

After an hour or so of swirling your drink, a couple of bodies appeared at your table. Wordlessly, a few of the Top Gun pilots took a seat, giving you warm smiles. Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, even Payback and Fanboy pulled up chairs. You didn’t have to fake your joy when you looked at each of them.

“If every single one of you doesn’t make it back from the mission tomorrow,” your voice broke as you spoke, “I’ll kill all of you.”

The pilots around you laughed and began doing their best to cheer you up. Unknown to you, Hangman watched from across the room.

Hangman and Coyote looked on as their friends slowly cheered you up at the opposite end of the bar. Hangman could tell you had been crying and something in his chest ached when he saw your face. He understood why Coyote had forced him to come.

“Don’t do this to her,” Coyote said in a low voice, “don’t do this to yourself, man.” Hangman’s eyes were glued to you but he nodded at Coyote’s words.

Hangman’s mouth went dry as Rooster took your hand and pulled you up from the table. The pilots cheered as your face split into a genuine grin. You and Rooster began dancing to whatever the jukebox was playing. Arms flailing, head shaking, and lips grinning, you looked like the cunning girl he had beat at pool so many weeks ago.

“Just look at yourself, Hangman,” Coyote chided. Hangman turned his attention to his friend and was surprised to find himself smiling. Hangman gave his friend a good natured shove and walked toward you.

“Ice Queen!” Hangman bellowed. Almost every head in the bar turned his way, including yours. The smile on your face slipped and Rooster took a small step in front of you. That didn’t stop Hangman from giving you an award winning smile.

“I have a bone to pick with you.” Hangman stopped just a few feet in front of you. Being this close meant that he could see how your eyes were still a little puffy from earlier tears. Hangman cursed himself but carried on.

“Please,” he held out his hand toward you. It took great effort, but he let his face soften. He tried to lay himself bare in front of you with just a look. And as he watched your face, he knew you saw something on his own. Of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t skeptical. You placed your hand in his, but didn’t budge. Instead, your eyes narrowed, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Convince me to listen,” was all you said. Hangman rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t you just make this easy, y/n?” Hangman closed his hand around yours and pulled hard enough to make you stumble forward. Using your momentum, Hangman threw you over his shoulder and turned to leave. He saw Rooster, as well as a handful of other pilots, move to defend you, but Coyote stepped in their path. Hangman didn’t know what his friend said to the others, but they didn’t follow him as he carried you out of the bar. Rooster didn’t even make an attempt to follow you outside.

“Hangman! Hey, Lieutenant! Lieutenant Seresin. Stop!” You were hitting Hangman’s back which only made him tighten his grip around your legs. He didn’t stop until he stood on the dark beach, a few meters away from The Hard Deck.

“Lieutenant, put me down-” you huffed, still struggling.

“Say my name,” Hangman said in a low voice. He felt you still in his arms. He couldn’t see your face but he knew you understood what he wanted. After a moment of silence from you, Hangman gave your ass a hard flick. You began to swear.

“C’mon,” Hangman said, “just let me hear you say my name and I’ll put you down.”

“Jake Seresin, put me down now,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, ma’am.” Gently, he allowed you to slide off of his shoulder. He kept a grip on you until he was sure you had found your footing in the sand. He watched you then, your face lit by the distant lights from the bar. You looked furious.

“Look, I know-” Hangman didn’t get a chance to finish. With all your might, you punched Hangman’s gut. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Still, he was a little satisfied to see you shake out your fist.

“Are you kidding,” you wheezed, clutching your hand, “Why is your stomach so… so hard?”

“No one has ever complained about how hard I am,” Hangman said with a pained laugh. You moved to punch him again, but Hangman had learned his lesson. He caught your fist as it sailed through open air. You pulled back but Hangman didn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, your breath caught as Hangman pulled your hand to his chest and he began to gently massage your palm and knuckles.

“Did you hurt your hand?” Hangman asked with a fake pout.

“What do you want, Lieutenant?” You glared up at the pilot.

“I want to talk to you. Can I do that? Will you just listen, for once?” Hangman’s voice sounded frustrated but void of it’s usual bravado. You watched his face for a moment, wondering where this was going. You wanted to release your frustration. You wanted to punch him again. It would hurt, but it felt good to let your feelings out like that.

The way Hangman was holding your hand also felt good.

“As long as you don’t stop doing that,” you finally answered.

“Yes ma’am,” Hangman grinned.

“And if this is going to be a long conversation, I’d rather sit.” You quickly added. Hangman nodded and pulled you down into the chilly sand. You sat across from him and you had to lean forward for Hangman to keep massaging your palm. Your legs were crossed and so were his. Your knees were resting against his crossed legs.

It wasn’t a comfortable way to sit and he noticed. Wordlessly, Hangman moved closer. He lifted his legs and placed them on either side of you so that they rested over your folded legs and his feet stuck out behind you. He silently raised an eyebrow asking if it was okay. You gave him a little nod.

“You distract me-” Hangman began.

“So you had to go tell my dad?” You interrupted.

“You said you’d listen.” Hangman glared. You apologized and motioned with your free hand for him to continue.

“I think I hate you,” Hangman said, but he continued to speak before you could interrupt again, “You - and I cannot stress this enough - make my head hurt. Like the worst headache I've ever had. You’re just always… Something about you and that smart mouth of yours brings out the worst in me and it makes me want to be better. I don’t know what it is, Ice Queen, but you make me grind my teeth and for the first time in my life, when I’m up there, all I can think about is coming back down. I want to come find you in the rec room playing cards with Coyote and I want to go to The Hard Deck and see you singing with Rooster and Phoenix. I want to be the one dancing with you and I want to show you that I can spin you around better than anyone else in the whole bar. And even when I’m up in the air, I just… I know you’re listening and want to talk to you. And I hate it, y/n.”

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point Hangman stopped massaging your hand. You sat, facing the arrogant pilot, one of your hands was held in both of his while your other hand lazily rested on his thigh.

“Oh, now you’re silent?” Hangman let out a nervous laugh. “I think you’re clever and I also think that makes you dangerous. And sometimes I want to take you down a notch because I know you can take me down.” Hangman seemed to be looking everywhere but your face. He kept your hand close to his chest and you tried to find something to say.

“But all I really want is your attention,” Hangman glanced up at you, meeting your gaze. “and I hate you for ignoring me. I hate you for making me watch Rooster sing with you. I hate you because you like hanging out with Phoenix and Coyote and even Bob more than you like seeing me. And I hate watching you smile at everyone but me. And I just hate myself because…” Hangman’s voice broke then. He looked down at his hands, still clutching your own.

“I hate you.” Your voice sounded so distant. The crashing waves behind you were loud but all you could hear was your heart beating in your chest.

You and Hangman looked at one another. Neither of you spoke and you used your free hand to touch his cheek. You felt little grains of sand on his skin. His eyes never left your face as you wiped away some of the sand.

“Say it again,” Hangman demanded. His voice was different now and you liked the way his face moved under your touch.

“I hate you, Jake,” you said. Hangman inhaled and something in you felt unbelievably fragile like a glass box teetering on the edge of a high shelf.

“I hate you and I hate the idea that you...” You had to take a deep breath to fight the lump in your throat, “I hate that I don’t know if you’re going to make it back from the mission, tomorrow. And if you don’t, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this… hate.”

“Well if that’s your concern, worry no more, Ice Queen,” Hangman said, bringing some of his bravado back, “rest assured, I’m the best. And I’m coming back tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes and laughed. Pulling your hands away from Hangman, you moved to swat his chest. He caught your wrist for the second time that night and, very slowly, brought your open palm to his lips.

You told yourself to pull away. You told yourself this was a bad idea. But feeling Hangman’s lips against your palm pushed all thoughts out of your head.

“Tell me you hate me again,” Hangman said, “you tell the best lies.”

“Tomorrow, when you come back from the mission.” You promised. There was a challenge in your voice and you felt your familiar grin return to your face.

“C’mon, Ice Queen,” Hangman said in a plaintive voice, “hate me tonight. Hate me now.”

“Tomorrow,” you insisted. “when you’re back - safe and sound - I’ll hate you then.” Hangman raised an eyebrow, a little gleam beginning to show in his eyes. He took both of your hands in his.

“Tomorrow,” he began, “when I come back as the hero of the day, you and I are going to play your interrogation game by my rules. You’re going to answer all of my questions - no lies.”

“And you’ll answer my questions, too?” You asked. Hangman nodded and pulled you to your feet.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hangman said, looping your arm around his. The two of you began walking toward The Hard Deck. You could see Rooster and Phoenix dancing with one another. Bob laughed with the other pilots around the pool table. And then you turned to glance up at Hangman. His eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face. Thinking about what might happen tomorrow made your chest feel empty. So, if you held Hangman’s arm a little tighter or pressed yourself a little more against his side, you told yourself that it was better to enjoy it now than to regret it later.

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” You asked, turning away and hoping your blush wasn’t evident. He was leading you around The Hard Deck rather than back towards the entrance.

“I’m driving you home,” He said with a shrug, “On the ride back, you can tell me more about our date tomorrow.”

A/N: Phew, chapter 5 is done and THE COMMENTS kill me. The support on this is so sweet. Literally the best motivation ever and @turningtoclown that hashtag is the best thing I've ever read. I am laughing so hard. @bluebunny780 and @teacactusworld your messages were so stinking kind.

Please let me know what you think of Ch. 5!

Taglist: @ponyboys-sunsets @rachelccollier @luckyladycreator2 @marland56 @lclove2012-blog @shaded-echoes-recs @gh0strr @fuzzy-panda@littlewhiterose@starkleila@atrxidxs@hellolipoops @kobababysblog@lizzieann143@maggieromanov@nonamedauthor@eg-dr3amer3 @izzy-and-bts @sgtjamesbuchanan-barnes@qardasngan@fantasias-creativebubble@callalily2000@marland56@professorkrasinski @certifiedsimp14@levi-tsk-ackerman@utterly-in-like@mysticaldonkey@dempy @thatchickwiththecamera @deepkissesandunexpectedhappiness @rubyr4bs @azure23x @can-this-be-a-fanfic @dirtynerdy98 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @earth-to-lottie @katesmadness @nessamc @vintageleather @shimmer98 @coco-loco-nut @tgm-enthusiast @xoxabs88xox @r1yuki @hellolipoops @outspokenmatters @thespeeder

#hangman x you #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x oc #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #jake hangman seresin x you #TeamGossipingDads

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 3 years

Text

Hatefuck

Yeah, I could get used to this

bully!wooyoung x female reader

Trigger warnings: bullying

Content warnings: strong language, wine chat with hongjoong (god i wish), crying, wooyoung wears a stupid looking apron.

Summary: it’s been two months and hongjoong demands to know why you’ve pushed everyone away. can wooyoung redeem himself?

Word count: 6342

A/N: i absolutely loved writing this, it made me sad =D anyways, i’ll probably release the third part in a week so i have time to finish the fourth part and decide if i’m doing a fifth or not. its super fucking sweet (and kinda hot tbh) so look forward to it! anyways read part one here! consider giving me a follow here and on my main. submit asks and requests here and consider turning on post notifications for regular uploads! i’ve got a couple things on the docket this week so be looking forward to it!

Tag list: @starlight-night0 @teezers99 @alecanal93 @youre-a-wallflower-charlie

<-Previous | Next->

It had been two months since Wooyoung left you alone in your bed after rearranging your guts. You made it a point to interact with him as little as possible, not even answering texts or responding when he tried to mess with you. If he approached you, you vacated the area.

Just as you’d assumed, he’d told all the guys what had happened. So when Seonghwa texted you with a dinner invitation or Mingi sent you a meme, you just ignored their messages. You felt ashamed. You couldn’t walk into that house and pretend you hadn’t fucked one of their best friends when they knew the relationship you had with him. When you saw them on campus, you’d shove your earbuds in and crank up your music before they could approach you while pretending you hadn’t noticed them.

Hongjoong was getting tired of you giving him the slip. After two months of you actively avoiding all eight of them, he stopped you at the library. He quite literally backed you into a corner on the second floor, which was much quieter than the main floor but still lively, and crossed his arms as he stood over you. “We need to talk. Now.”

You shook your head. “I have class in fifteen minutes.” It was true. This wasn’t some ploy to dip out on him. You’d come in to grab a coffee and a book between classes. But he didn’t look happy and you found yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek, feeling guilty. “Look, I have to go. Can I just text you when I’m back at my place? I’ll send you the address and we can have a drink and I’ll explain everything.”

“If you don’t reach out by this evening, I’ll be asking Wooyoung where you live and dropping by regardless.” You nodded and bit the inside of your lip. “I’m not kidding. We need to talk and we will be talking tonight.” His tone was firm but far from cold. He stepped back and motioned for you to go. “Get to class.”

You immediately scurried off, letting out a sigh of relief at the fact this wasn’t a class you shared with Wooyoung. It was also your last class of the day. Unfortunately, this was a class you shared with Jongho. It had been difficult keeping a distance from the surprisingly-sweet boy when he constantly tried to sit beside you and start up a conversation. You’d managed to scrape by the last two months with awkward pleasantries and light chatter about your programming project.

When you arrived at the lecture hall, he was already seated towards the middle of the room. You let out another sigh of relief at that, realizing he’d arrived before you and you wouldn’t have to endure another awkward encounter. You settled in at the back of the room and began scrawling notes when class started, counting down the minutes until you were free to leave. You quickly put your headphones in after packing your bag and hightailed it out of the room before Jongho could spot you.

As you made your way across campus to your car, you pulled out your phone and sent Hongjoong your address. You also told him what drinks you had and said he was welcome to bring something of his own if nothing you had seemed appealing. Then you pocketed your phone and broke into a jog.

Half an hour later, you were parking in front of your apartment. You thought you’d have a while to straighten up but as you reached the top of of the stairs, you saw Hongjoong sitting by your door. He offered a small smile which you awkwardly returned as he stood so you could open the door. “I thought you were hiding again when you didn’t answer.” He chuckled softly.

“Ah, no. I get out of class at four. I texted you while I was heading to my car.” You explained as you unlocked the door. Both of you walked inside and slipped your shoes off. You hung your bag on the hook by the door and shrugged your jacket off, hanging it beside your bag before looking to Hongjoong. “I can take your coat if you’d like.”

He quickly shed the extra layer and you hung it beside yours before leading him to the kitchen. It was quiet and awkward as you busied yourself with pulling out glasses for the wine he’d chosen. You poured the wine and passed him a glass before heading to sit on your sofa with him. You sat with your legs curled beneath you, your back against the arm rest, and he sat with one leg hanging off the couch as he faced you.

“Y/n, what the hell happened?” His voice was low and full of worry. “I know you two hooked up but you’ve been avoiding all of us like the plague. We miss you.” You felt guilty and couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze as you spoke up.

“You know how much he hates me after I told him I wouldn’t go out with him. He goes out of his way to make things harder for me. I’m surprised he’s actually left me alone outside of group work the last two months if I’m being honest.” You sighed, your eyes glued to the glass in your hand. “I gave in that night because I desperately needed to get railed. But as soon as it was over and I was laying alone in my bed, still covered in cum, I realized I’d fucked up. I knew he’d tell you all what had just happened and he’d be so smug about it. I knew nothing was really gonna change. I realized he just knew even more about how to get under my skin and he’d use that to his advantage. I was ashamed and embarrassed and didn’t want to face you guys for fear of what he might’ve said.”

He took everything in quietly, nodding along as you spoke. “He didn’t tell us until a week later when he was having an argument with Seonghwa.” He paused and you bit your lip. “I’m not excusing how he’s treated you the last two years, that’s unacceptable, but I’ll be honest with you. He’s still head over heels for you. He’s been so irritable recently and nobody can mention your name without him getting crabby. Up until two months ago, almost every word out of his mouth was about you but now none of us can bring you up without pissing him off.”

“Well he should’ve thought about how it would affect him before he effectively broke into my house.” You huffed and took a gulp of wine. “I’m honestly just surprised he’s stopped interacting with me in the last couple of weeks. Even after we slept together, he would come take whatever book I was reading or try to start an argument but I just kept blowing him off and I guess he finally took the hint.”

“Y/n, I need you to stop.” You looked up with an irritated expression and he continued. “I’m not saying forgive him or even talk to him. But the rest of us didn’t do anything to deserve being iced out. We all really like you and want you to keep coming around.”

“That’s the problem though.” You sighed, sipping your drink again. “The night I came over to work on the project, he was complaining about you guys being so friendly with me. Now I wouldn’t say we were particularly close, you all were nice enough to try and bring me into the fold. But he absolutely hated it. He insisted I had heart eyes after talking to Seonghwa and that I wanted to fuck all of you. In all honesty, the thought never crossed my mind, so I don’t know what he was so pressed about. I was more concerned with the fact that the best friends of someone who seems to hate me wanted to get close to me. I felt like I needed to keep some distance because it’s hard to be part of a friend group and have beef with one person in particular within the group. I know you guys are a package deal.”

“We are indeed.” He agreed with a nod and sipped his wine. “But honestly we’ve all started to suffer since you vanished. Everyone is blaming him for driving you away - rightfully so - and we’ve all been arguing. He picks fights with all of us, saying we have no reason to be concerned for you and that he’s the only one who can worry about you. He’s convinced we’re all hopelessly in love with you. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great. But like you said, the thought never crossed our minds.”

“Not even a little?” You teased, laughing quietly when he lightly kicked your knee. Then you grew serious again and bit your lip. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be treating you guys like this just because I’m ashamed of sleeping with him. It’s not fair to you guys. I’m just not sure how to move forward and deal with him without dealing with him. I’ve taken all I can take over the last two years and I’ve seriously considered dropping out or transferring schools to avoid him. If he hadn’t taken my rejection so poorly, maybe we could’ve moved past everything and been friends. He seems like a great guy when I see him with the rest of you guys and if he had stayed like that with me, maybe none of this-”

Your phone buzzed, signaling a message. “Speak of the devil.” You laughed ruefully when you saw his name displayed on your screen. What the hell did he want?

Bastard: whatever Hongjoong says, it’s not true

You: so you’re not dying to see me and regretting every bad thing you’ve ever done?

You wanted to mess with him a little. You locked your phone and turned your attention back to Hongjoong. “I’m not telling you to subject yourself to his bullshit again, but please stop pushing the rest of us away. They all feel like they’ve done something to upset you even though they know otherwise. Jongho comes home with a pout, complaining his favorite noona won’t talk to him in class.”

“I can’t possibly be his favorite noona.” You shook your head as a small smile settled on your lips. “The class I just had, we’re in that one together and every time I get there before him, he seeks me out and sits with me. He chatters on excitedly about everything going on in his life and the last two months I’ve just been nodding along. The conversations have gotten awkward because I’ve pushed everyone away. I feel bad but I’m not entirely sure how to face Wooyoung.”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner tomorrow and see how things go? You can ignore him and just enjoy spending time with the rest of us. They’ll all be thrilled to see you again.” He nudged you with his knee. “He’s been eating in his room recently anyways because every meal with him has just resulted in everyone fighting.”

You weren’t sure. You wanted to see them but you didn’t know how to handle things if you had to see him. Hongjoong sensed your apprehension and leaned forwards, taking your hand and giving you a warm smile. This was all the convincing you needed. “Okay. I’ll come to dinner. I feel like I owe everyone an apology. But keep it a secret, yeah? I kinda wanna surprise them.” You grinned and his smile grew wider.

“I can do that.” He agreed instantly, nodding vigorously as he sat back. “So…how have classes been? Or rather, how have you been in general?” He asked, opening up the conversation to flow in a more lighthearted direction.

“Classes are beating my ass right now.” You groaned and took another gulp of your wine, finishing your glass and setting it aside. “Honestly, if it weren’t for your invitation, I’d probably be spending tomorrow night studying. Finals season is closing in and if I have to keep looking at code and business lingo, I’m going to gouge my fucking eyes out.”

He could only laugh at your misery, nodding along in agreement. You continued to chat for another hour before he stood. “It’s almost six so I should go. They’re about to start on dinner and I told Yeosang I’d help him tonight.” You stood with him and led him to the door, saying your goodbyes. He caught you in a tight hug before leaving you alone in your apartment, a small smile on your face. It felt good to let everything out and catch up with him. Hongjoong had a way of comforting everyone who came to him with a problem. You went to take the glasses back to the kitchen and saw your phone light up again.

Bastard: ….okay, maybe. But you shouldn’t be hearing that from him. I think we should talk.

You: I don’t know if we should, Wooyoung. I don’t know if I have the energy anymore. I’m so tired.

Bastard: Can I come over? Please? I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just want to clear things up. Plus I’m on dishes tonight but they won’t make me do them if I’m not here to eat lmao

You: Wow. A whole child. Fine. But one misstep and you’re gone.

Bastard: Thank you. I’ll be there in ten.

You: Then you can help cook. I’m making meatball subs.

Bastard: You’re a sub

You: Thin ice, buddy

Bastard: Sorry

You put your phone down and picked up the glasses, heading to the kitchen with them. You put them in the sink and pulled out a pot, putting it on the stove. You began your prep work and by the time you were done, Wooyoung was knocking at your door. You let out a sigh and went to let him in.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t respond so I don’t know if you saw it but I’m sorry about the sub thing.” You almost laughed when that was the first thing he said. You stepped aside to let him in and just shook your head, letting out a sigh.

“I saw. I didn’t have a response so I just went about my business.” You shrugged and locked the door back, as was habit. He kicked his shoes off and followed you to the kitchen. “I have a couple rules.” He looked at you expectantly so you continued. “If I say stop, you shut your mouth. Also, as punishment, I want you to wear this goofy-ass apron.” You held up a frilly pink apron with ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned across the chest.

He groaned in frustration but put the apron on and you got to work, directing him around the kitchen. While the food was cooking, you were standing shoulder to shoulder with him at the stove. You decided now was as good a time as ever to bring up something Hongjoong said. “You’re the only one who can worry about me, huh?” Your voice was quiet and your eyes didn’t leave the sauce you were making. “Kinda funny coming from the one who created every scenario in which someone could worry about me.”

“I- uh-“ he cleared his throat awkwardly and you saw his knuckles go white as he gripped the spoon tighter. “Look, I know I’ve been an ass.” That was an understatement. “I’ve treated you like shit since you turned me down. I’m not gonna try to deny that. I just felt like if I didn’t mess with you, I couldn’t talk to you because things would be awkward after you rejected me. I felt like I couldn’t approach you normally after that and innocent teasing became full blown bullying. I’m not trying to excuse anything, I just wanted to explain why I acted that way. I know I’m in the wrong for everything that happened over the last two years.”

“You are.” You nodded, stirring away at the sauce. “Honestly, if you’d just acted like nothing happened, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. We could’ve been pretty close. I wouldn’t feel awkward befriending the others while trying not to step on your toes and make things worse for myself.” You sighed and dropped the handle of the wooden spoon, turning to face him. He stared down at the food, refusing to look at you. He looked like a scolded child.

“I’ll sound like a bitch if I say I’m blaming you. But honestly, I’m okay with that. I do blame you for how things went south. I’m not gonna pretend to understand and follow your logic, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I will agree you had every right to feel hurt when I said no. Everyone feels hurt after a rejection. I just wish you’d been fucking normal about it instead of treating me like shit. I seriously considered dropping out or transferring to a different university or changing my major to get away from you. I dreaded seeing you. But after you fucked me dumb and dipped, only to resume your bullshit, I couldn’t keep doing it. I gave up. Your shit wasn’t worth the energy when I could be doing more productive things.”

He looked like he wanted to cut in but he kept his mouth shut, his ears going red. If his hair hadn’t been hanging over his eyes, you would’ve seen them watering a bit. “I was relieved when you stopped trying to bother me. I finally felt like I could walk around campus and not dread running into you. But I had already started icing out everyone else and they didn’t deserve that either. I guess Hongjoong got fed up with your antics at home and me brushing them off every day because he cornered me today and demanded to talk.”

After a few seconds of silence, you turned back to the sauce and continued to stir. The silence didn’t last though. “I’m sorry.” You felt like you hadn’t heard that right. He’d never apologized to you before. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t realize how hard I was making things for you. I knew I was willfully being an ass but I didn’t realize you’d considered dropping out just so I’d leave you alone. Hell, I never knew I made you cry until a few months ago when Hongjoong lit into me after chatting with you. I don’t want you to leave. You didn’t deserve any of what I did and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t speak, just nodded as you listened. He stopped messing with the food and simply stood there as he spoke. “Nothing about what I did was normal. I spent the last couple weeks reflecting on everything and I started therapy. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I want it desperately but I know I don’t deserve it. I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

The two of you stood in silence again for a brief moment before you spoke up. “You’re right. You haven’t done a damn thing to earn it. You haven’t done anything to show me you’re going to change. You showed up to talk but you haven’t proven anything. You don’t deserve it, you’re right.” He let out a soft sigh and you turned to him again. “But for some godforsaken reason, I feel inclined to give it to you.”

He looked up from the food, surprise written all over his face as he turned his head to look at you. You stood there staring at each other, faces heating up from the weight of each others gazes before he finally spoke. “But….why? I mean, even if I hadn’t been an asshole for two years, leaving you alone that night would’ve been enough for you to cut me out. We went hard. You were bound to need aftercare and I just bounced. I mean, shit, I was bruised up from all the hitting and that bite, I can’t imagine you were in better shape. That alone would’ve been enough for you to be done with me even if we hadn’t had a strained relationship at best. So why?”

“That’s an excellent question that I don’t have an answer for.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around your middle. “And I can confirm, I was indeed in worse shape. You left hickeys everywhere and I had bruises on my hip and wrists from how tightly you held me. And let’s not forget how irritated my knees were from that position.” You laughed in spite of yourself and shook your head. “I can’t make it make sense, Wooyoung. Maybe I’ve lost the ability to put up with shit. Maybe you fucked it right out of me.”

For the first time ever, he gave a genuine laugh at something you said. It wasn’t hateful, it didn’t intimidate you. He genuinely sounded joyful as he fully turned to face you rather than just looking at you over his shoulder. You tensed noticeably as he wrapped his arms around you, still laughing even as he pulled you into his chest. It was strange being held like this by him of all people but you didn’t hate it. You were about to wrap your arms around his waist when he opened his mouth. “Kitten retracted her claws.” He snorted and you glared up at him, swatting his chest.

“You ruined it. It was going so well and you ruined it.” You deadpanned as he looked down at you in confusion, his laughter stopping immediately. He quickly caught on and gave you a sheepish grin as he reached up, slapping his own lips and muttering a soft ‘sorry’. You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips. “You’re fucking stupid sometimes. Don’t make it a habit.” You let out a soft laugh and gently pushed him away, returning to the sauce, which was now ready to be poured over the meatballs. “I think….if you can keep acting like this, things can work out. Minus the names, of course. I only let partners give me pet names.” You gave him a pointed look.

He nodded slowly, helping you lift the pan to pour the sauce over the meatballs. “I can do that. I’ll stop with the names too. If I call you a name, you can flick my forehead or something. Just don’t give me a concussion, I’ll probably slip up a lot. I’m kind of an idiot, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He snorted, his body shaking with laughter.

You could feel the vibrations of his laughter in his chest against your back. You didn’t know why he chose to stand behind you and wrap his arms around you to help but the position felt intimate. He’d had you in far more intimate positions before but something about the shift in his personality paired with this action made your face heat up. You cleared your throat as you shook yourself back to reality and shook your head. “I can’t make any promises on the concussion.” You chuckled as he backed away, laughing softly with you.

He grew quiet after a moment and you could feel his eyes boring holes into your back as you mixed the meatballs into the sauce. “This is nice…” his voice was just above a whisper and you gave a tiny nod before directing him to grab the cheese from the fridge while you got the bread.

“Hongjoong invited me for dinner. They’re gonna be confused as hell tomorrow when I rock up and you try to make conversation instead of hiding in your room to avoid me.” You hummed as you began to assemble the sandwiches. You handed him a plate and shooed him off to the table while you fixed your plate. When you joined him at the table, you tilted your head and stared at him. “How have they been? I know I talked to Hongjoong and he said everyone’s been fighting. He said Jongho’s been all pouty. Has it really been that hard on everyone?”

He nodded almost instantly and you felt your heart sink. “I’ve been….sensitive about it all and bitching every time they bring you up. They’re mad at me for driving you off and they’re honestly hurt that you just disappeared overnight. I think it’s safe to say everyone misses you.”

You nodded slowly and began to eat, feeling guilty for being the source of this mess. “Well, now that you and I have come to some sort of agreement on things, they’ll be seeing a lot more of me than they ever did. Not as much as you did, but still.” You gave a little laugh at his stunned expression and shook your head. “It’s okay to joke about it. I may get a little indignant but that’s normal teasing and I can accept it. Teasing is okay.” You assured him and he nodded, continuing to eat.

It was oddly nice sitting with him and chatting over dinner. The two of you chattered on about all sorts of things, eventually lamenting about the programming project and how much still had to be done before it was time to submit it in three weeks. “Like I told Joongie, if I have to keep looking at code, I’m gonna gouge my eyes out.” You groaned, slumping in your seat. He laughed and nodded but stared at you for an uncomfortably long time and you were about to ask if something was on your face when he spoke.

“You know, I was just thinking about it. You have nicknames for everyone else but you’ve only ever called me ‘asshole’. Now that we’re working on things, do I get a nickname too?” He looked hopeful and excited, like a puppy, and you felt warm inside. Yeah, you thought, I can get used to this.

“Well first off, I don’t have nicknames for everyone.” You rolled your eyes as a smile settled on your face. “I don’t have a name for Yeosang, Mingi, or Jongho. Maybe I’ll call Yeosang Sangie or something.” You chuckled and crossed your arms. “Why don’t I just call you Woo like the rest of them do? Or Wooyoungie?”

“I like both of those.” He wasn’t about to admit how much he liked them. The guys used those names for him and it was just…normal. But hearing you say it? He felt like he’d just been washed in battery acid. He was still hopelessly in love with you but he wasn’t sure he’d ever tell you that. He didn’t know Hongjoong had already spilled the beans though. He cleared his throat after a moment of silence and stood, taking the apron off. “It’s already almost eight. I should go. We’ve both got a ton of homework to do.”

You nodded and stood with him, taking the apron and draping it over the back of your chair. “Do me a favor?” You hummed as you walked him to the door. He looked up at you as he slid his shoes on, waiting for your request. A grin broke out on your face as you spoke. “Don’t tell them you were here and that we’re mostly okay now. Hongjoong is the only one who knows I’ll be there tomorrow, I told him to keep it a secret because I want to surprise them. I think it’ll confuse them further if we’re just…getting along after two years of fighting.”

He laughed and nodded. “Gladly. They think I’m at a bar looking for girls right now anyways.” Why did that bother you? You shook it off and laughed with him, seeing him off and locking up behind him. Once alone, you let out a sigh.

“What the hell did I just get into?”

————————————

Hongjoong had texted you twenty minutes ago saying they were halfway done cooking. You’d taken ten minutes to freshen up your makeup and redo your ponytail before gathering everything you’d need. Ten minutes later, you were standing at their front door. You’d texted Hongjoong and Wooyoung both to notify them of your arrival and now you were trying to calm yourself before knocking. You were excited.

You knocked and it took a few minutes for the door to open but when it did, a stunned Mingi stood before you. You stood there with a bright smile as you waited for some sort of response. Finally, you were engulfed in a warm hug and he pulled you inside. “Oh my god. Hi. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I told Joongie to keep it a secret. He came by my place yesterday to talk and invited me to dinner.” You explained as you gently pulled back so you could remove your shoes and drop your bag. Mingi took your jacket and put it on the hook by the door before leading the way to the kitchen, where everyone was getting seated at the table.

At first, no one really noticed and San called out without looking up, asking who was at the door. When Mingi didn’t answer, he looked up and one by one they all noticed your presence. All of them looked shocked but delighted as you waved. Wooyoung patted the space between himself and Hongjoong and you sat between them as everyone voiced their surprise. “Joongie came to see me last night and invited me for dinner.” You explained as Seonghwa jumped up to fix you a bowl. It was uncomfortably quiet as they all looked at you, perplexed as to why you showed up seemingly out of nowhere. “So…what’s up?” You looked around, starting to feel uncomfortable at the silence and the way they all stared at you.

That seemed to be the kick needed to start the conversation and the room filled with chatter as Seonghwa placed a bowl of rice in front of you and gestured to all the dishes in the center of the table as if to tell you to dig in. As everyone tucked in, Hongjoong leaned over towards you. “Thank you for coming.” He whispered and you offered him a small smile.

As you turned back to your food, Wooyoung placed a piece of meat on your rice and you muttered a tiny thanks as the rest of them exchanged quizzical glances. Hongjoong was the only one who expected the exchange so you weren’t surprised when Seonghwa’s narrow gaze zeroed in on you. “Okay, what’s going on here? You show up out of nowhere and suddenly he’s playing nice. What is happening?”

“Well….Joongie stopped by last night and we talked about how I just dipped on you guys and how it was affecting you all. I recognize it was wrong of me to let my issues with Woo get in the way of our friendship and I’m sorry for cutting you guys off.” You sighed softly and sipped your water before continuing. “Not even ten minutes after Joongie left, Woo was at my door. We talked things over and he apologized for everything. We aren’t entirely okay yet, but I think there’s hope.” You explained, everyone quiet save for the sounds of them munching away and sipping their water.

Yunho was the first to speak. “I mean, you gave him a nickname that wasn’t ‘asshole’ so things must be looking up.” He chuckled and everyone erupted in laughter as you nodded.

“He actually asked me to give him a different nickname over dinner last night.” You laughed and picked up the meat he’d given you, quickly shoving it in your mouth followed by a spoonful of rice. “I told him he had to stop giving me nicknames though. He should pick one or two and stick with it.” You laughed, holding your hand in front of your mouth so no one saw your chewed food.

Dinner went smoothly, everyone involving you in conversation and Wooyoung repeatedly putting meat and veggies in your bowl. It was strange but pleasant and certainly not unwelcome. When all the food was gone and everyone was leaving the room, Seonghwa reminded Wooyoung that he was on dishes tonight since he skipped out last night. He pouted but dragged himself from his seat and began to gather the dishes from the table. You stood and decided to give him a hand, bringing the dishes over while he got started on washing them. “You wash, I dry?” You hummed as you brought the last bowls over.

He looked at you surprised before smiling and shaking his head. “Ah, you don’t have to.” You didn’t listen, picking up the dish towel anyways.

“You helped with dinner last night.” You shrugged. He stared at you, not moving until you nudged him. Finally, he gave in and sighed, muttering something about your stubborn streak and handing you the first bowl.

You shared banter as the two of you cleaned up and after a few minutes, everything was clean. You were about to head to the living room with the others when you felt wet hands on your cheeks. You let out a soft squeal and threw the towel at him, laughing as you started to wipe your face. You didn’t get very far before his large hands were back on your face. You went back and forth like this for a few minutes, laughter filling the room, before he stopped. His hands had dried by then so there was no more water to wipe on your face.

But something in him broke when you looked up at him with that smile. There was a sparkle in your eyes he’d never gotten the chance to see. He’d been going about everything all wrong the last two years. He could’ve been having fun with you like this but instead he was making your life miserable. You froze as he hurriedly pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. “W-Woo…”

He shook his head as he held you. “I’m not gonna.” It was a simple reassurance that he wasn’t about to try to get you in bed again. “I just…I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, he breath tickling your neck. He sounded close to tears and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him.

“I won’t lie and say it’s okay.” Your voice was soft and warm. “But we’re moving past that now.” Your hands splayed out over his back, rubbing circles there to soothe him. “It wasn’t okay. But we will be.” Those words were the last straw for him and you felt his shoulders shake, his breath hot on your skin as he let out a quiet sob.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder and repeated soft ‘I’m sorry’s. Your heart broke and you credited that to how softhearted you were. When he finally pulled back to wipe his tears, your hands moved to his cheeks, not letting him back away. “I’m not gonna be able to forget and erase the last two years. But I do forgive you.” You murmured as your thumbs swiped his tears away.

It was strange being there for him in such a raw moment after everything that had happened. His eyes were full of regret as he looked down at you and you gave a tiny smile, pulling him closer. You leaned up on your tippy toes and kissed his forehead and he almost broke down all over again. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve for you to just…let me in. How can you be so nice to someone who hurt you so many times?” You just shrugged and continued to run your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I dunno.” You said simply as your hands fell from his face. He caught them in his before they could drop back to your sides. “I always told myself that if you treated me like you treat everyone else, it wouldn’t be hard to get close to you. You’re a fun person. I can see that much even with my warped view of you. You’re the life of the party. The mood maker. You’re so smart and you build people up. I was honestly kind of jealous whenever you told the others they were doing a good job on the project but you didn’t so much as look in my direction. I felt invalidated. I knew not to expect much from you.”

He looked hurt by your words. You could see that without him making eye contact as he played with your fingers. “But I can already see a change in you. You seem to regret everything and you’ve even started therapy. I must say, I never thought I’d live to see the day The Jung Wooyoung broke down in my arms.” You both gave a soft huff of laughter and he sniffled quietly. “I know you’re making an effort to better yourself and repent for everything you put me through. And I appreciate that so much.”

“You blocking us all out gave me time to think and I came to a realization.” He looked up from your hands and met your gaze. “I thrived off our interactions. I knew I was pissing you off but at least I was getting to talk to you and be around you. I realized what I was doing to you wasn’t healthy. I wanted to keep you in my life and I knew I could only do that if I changed.” Your face was starting to flush under the intensity of his stare. “I’m gonna keep trying to be a better person so I don’t run you off again. I know I haven’t given you anything but my word, which shouldn’t mean shit to you at this point, but I’m trying.”

“I know.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung #kpop smut #moderate angst #this is really just sad #but let’s heal :D #alura’s works

510 notes · View notes

chiruba · 3 years

Text

JJK BOYS' BEING SCARED TO CONFESS !

an. thank u for 100 + followers!! <3 holy fuck inumaki’s was hard to write bc of the letter LOL also heres to hopin my tags actu work for this post

ft. gojo, inumaki x gn!reader

wc. 1.2k

genre. fluff, angst if u squint in gojo's

► MASTERLIST ► TAGLIST ►

GOJO SATORU ►

— OK so usually i wouldn't imagine him as being scared to confess

— but,

— if he really likes you, i think his hidden insecurities will start comin out

— yes, gojo is the strongest sorcerer

— but even the strongest sorcerer can't save everyone

— he knows you'll be targeted if you're openly with him

— so gojo represses his feelings as best as he can

— which for some reason involves him -

— flirting with you one day

— and then completely ignoring your existence the next

— eventually you just get tired of it

"satoru!" you yell, surprising yourself from the sheer volume of your voice. it's clear he knew you were coming, but you still see the way his shoulders tense when you call his name. gojo at least has the decency to stop, and you're unsure if it's because he doesn't want to risk making you angrier, or if this is one of the days' he'll actually talk to you. you huff in anger before gripping his wrist to spin him around, and you can tell he's avoiding your eyes despite the black blindfold around his eyes.

"well?" you ask, tone cold and straightforward. gojo decides to take a glance at you, and sees you standing there with crossed arms, looking at him like a disappointed parent. "are you going to stop giving me the cold shoulder and tell me what's going on? i'm not in the mood to play some childish game, gojo." the use of his family name coming from you makes his heart ache, and he panics at the thought of you being genuinely angry and upset at him rather than mildly annoyed.

"i'm not playing some game," he says, and you feel yourself straighten up at the seriousness in his voice. your eyebrows furrow together in concern as you try to think of your last few interactions with gojo. he hadn't been acting this way with anyone else but you (you know because you'd asked nanami, and nanami knew all), and if this wasn't some game he was playing, had you done something to make him upset? the thought makes you feel guilty, remembering how you'd scolded him like a child just moments earlier. was it the joke about his forehead? surely he'd know you hadn't meant it, no matter how true it was-

"i love you-"

"your forehead isn't that small-"

...what?

you blinked at him once, then twice, then thrice, and then a fourth just to make sure you really weren't dreaming right now. your best friend of years, with his cocky attitude, cute dumb jokes and flirty remarks that made your face heat and heart race was in love with you? gojo lifted his blindfold suddenly, cocking an eyebrow up at you.

"hey! what about my forehead?-"

"i like you, too." you breathed out, voice shaky with either excitement or nervousness, you couldn't choose. gojo stared at you with those ocean coloured eyes of his, and then broke out into a grin.

"hmm?" you braced yourself, already knowing gojo's incessable adorable teasing was coming, "i don't exactly think i said like, did i?"

INUMAKI TOGE ►

— i def see inumaki being more scared to confess

— 1. because he can't think of a proper way to tell you his feelings

— a text just doesn't feel personal enough or embed his true feelings

— which leaves inumaki in a dilemma

— obviously, panda is quick to catch onto inumaki's feelings

— when he learns about inumaki's dilemma, he just bursts out laughing

— panda offers him the very simple solution - write a damn letter

— inumaki was so caught up in his feelings he literally just did not Think of it.

— spends hours writing the letter and tearing up it several times while also rehearsing how and where he would give it to you

— until the moment actually came, and all inumaki could do was shove the letter into your hands, yell tuna mayo, and run away.

— … yeah

your early sunday mornings had started consisting of heading down to the field every tokyo jujutsu school student used as early as your first week as a first-year, causing you to quickly develop a routine - get changed into your gym clothes, head down to the field earlier on to relax before maki kicked your ass, and then rush back to the dorms for a shower. except this time, you were pleasantly surprised to see that halfway through your routine, you were met with the familiar cute face of a fellow student, cursed speech user inumaki toge.

"inumaki?" you say, giving him a smile before slowing down your own steps to allow him time to catch up, watching as he sped to you. "you're up early for once," you teased, knowing how grumpy he can get without his allocated sleeping time. once inumaki catches up to you, you continue walking on, fully expecting inumaki to just continue alongside you. only for him to catch you off guard completely, gently spinning you around to face him once more.

seeing inumaki up close, you quickly take notice of the flush of red on his cheeks, popping out from under his collar, along with the sudden dark eye circles. inumaki's breathing is muffled, but loud enough for you to hear he's panting, the rapid rising and falling of his chest confirming it. you furrow your eyebrows in concern, also noting the way inumaki had practically sprinted to you moments before for no reason, along with the absence of his usual cheery - "kelp!"- greeting.

"inumaki?" you say once more, your tone both obviously worried and confused, "are you feeling okay?-" you have to practically plant your feet into the ground to stop from stumbling back when inumaki shoves something into your hand suddenly, only realising its a slip of paper when you feel it crinkle in your palm after an experimental squeeze. you look back at inumaki for even just a hint of an explanation, and instead all you get is -

"tuna mayo!" he yells, and then takes off running. you're left in a daze as you watch inumaki's figure become more and more distant, and only when you can no longer see him do you remember the paper currently crinkled up in your hands. the first thing you notice are the little onigiris drawn on the top of the paper, an inumaki staple as you'd like to call it. this time, the onigiris have blush streaks on their 'cheeks' as they hold hands, a single heart bouncing off their heads.

to you,

toge here! obviously i know it's not february anymore, as you (probably? lolol dumbas) know, but panda i'm tired of letting my chances slip past me.

there are so many things i want to say to you every day, but now that i'm here i don't even know where to start, so i'm just going to say it properly. i like you like a shitton. i wish i could say this to you properly, if i had the confidence if i could, i would scream my love for you to the world. i may not be your first date, kiss or love, but i want to be your last, just as i hope you'll be mine.

there are thousands of other things i want to say to you, but i'll save it until i get your reply. please don't feel pressured to accept me, no matter what, you'll always have a special place in my heart, my first love.

from hopefully yours,

toge inumaki. 🍙

ill give u a kiss goodnight if u reblog <3

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wishesunderthestars · 4 years

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

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The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

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