#also another thank you for all the gifts from everyone i’ve been looking back at them all day 🩵

[0vergrowngraveyard]

ngl seeing all the art of atlas today reminded me that i actually have not started chapter six-

maybe i should do that at some point

[xazse]

archon scara x devoted follower smut PLEASEEE I BEGGGGGGG PLEASE ☹️☹️☹️

KNEES

Synopsis: The Archon has allowed you to fulfill his desires.

Notes: HI!! I hope you enjoyed this, I see you left another request! I’ll get to it as soon as possible my love. Also I don’t know why I get carried away and make the writing longer than it should be? I hope you guys like when I do that. <333

Pairings: Archon!Scaramouche x devoted!femreader

Warnings: mean!Scaramouche + God!Scaramouche + a god complex to go along with it + mutual masturbation + snarky!reader + creampie + happy ending!!

Scaramouche was above the people who stood below him, bowing and offering him the last cent in their pockets, how easy it was to get humans to worship the ground he treads on. They’ll do anything to get his approval, some will kill for him, burn for him and even harm themselves if he had said to do it. He sat on his chair like he does everyday while his people brought him things he knows he’ll have his servants throw away or he’d let them keep the shit for themselves.

It’s a long line today, people must have been feeling extra grateful or they’re trying to cover sins they’ve been making. It’s a tired mantra of saying thank you’s and goodbyes as he watches them leaves all he can think is good riddance.

He isn’t paying attention to the next person stepping up because of his servant telling him something, the servant stops and stares in front of him, Scaramouche follows his line of sight and they settle upon you. In fact you’ve caught a few eyes with the attire you’ve decided to wear today, the outfits puts your breasts on full display, they look soft and inviting, all Scara can think is: Whore.

You put on your best smile and make your way towards his seat, holding your skirt up as you bow and offer him the sweet treats you’ve made. There’s a look in your eye that he likes, it’s badly full of lust as you brazeningly eye his body up and down, even taking the initiative to lick your lips so seductively. You’re bold, he’s never had a bold lady such as yourself outwardly showing off, you’re just trying to get him to fuck you.

You place the treats down and turn around to let the next follower go, Scaramouche makes sure to get a good look at your ass when you stand over to the side to watch the others finish giving their gifts. You don’t stop eyeing him for the rest of the evening.

When enough people have come past he announces that he’s tired and wishes to retire to bed, they leave one by one but you stand, keeping eye contact with him as everyone leaves. It’s just you left and his servant is about to dismiss you but Scaramouche is intervening and letting you stay. He also tells all his servants to leave.

Now it’s just you and him left.

“Such a little bold thing you are, letting everyone in the room know of your plans just by your body language alone.” He laughs as he allows you to approach.

“What ever do you mean m’lord” you shyly place your hands behind your back.

“Don’t get shy all of sudden, it bores me.” He ushers you closer allowing him to get a close up of you, of your body especially. “I’ve been swamped with protecting you lot, I think I’m owed something. Don’t you agree?” His smirk drives you crazy, you obediently nod.

You with no hesitation slip your arms out of your shirt and pull the front of your shirt down letting your breasts for his eyes to feast on.

You make sure to ooze confidence and he supposes he likes that, most women who offer themselves up are boring prudes who want a quick buck, but you, you look as though you only came to be fucked and thrown to the side, or maybe you’re planning on doing that to him instead.

“Lose it all, we’ll have no need for it anyway.” You quickly discard the dress to the side. “No panties? I wasn’t wrong about my assumption about you being a whore.”

You offer no answer, your lips don’t move but your hands start to roam your body, from the top of your chest to now rubbing your nipples.

“I see no need for foreplay woman, I want you now, you must’ve been wet from the moment you seen me no?” Cocky bastard.

“Unfortunately I was not sir.”

He raises his brow were you not eyeing him down like an animal in heat, he’ll let that comment slide. You continue to touch your breasts before making your way down to your cunt, softly rubbing inbetween your folds. Scaramouche can’t deny himself anymore and unbuttons his pants letting his cock free. Scaramouche is a short man but his cock tells a different story of not judging a book by its cover, his cock is of a great size, width and length. He begins rubbing himself in tandem with you, he can see how your fingers are already glistening with your cum.

He grabs your arm and tugs you forward, you fall flat on his lap. He fixes your body so you’re facing him. You kiss his neck from his ear to his shoulder blade, leaving colorful hickeys. He groans out loud, still stroking his cock but just the right amount, he wants to be inside of you when he cums. You kiss your way to his lips and lightly drag your tongue across them. The distraction allows for you to grab his cock and line it up with your hole, it slides in with a little bit of difficulty but nonetheless you take all of him.

You moan, his cock sits resting against your gummy walls, waiting for him to add stimulation. He grabs you by your waist and begins bouncing you, making sure to pull you all the way off then stuff you full.

“Oh… mhn…” you open your eyes to find Scaramouche staring at you, his eyes bore and burn into yours. His cock starts beating against your sweet spot and you jump, feels so fucking good the way it directly hits against it, it’s hard to control the way your thighs quiver and shake.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” “I’ve been told by women from all around that my cock is something to behold, wouldn’t you agree?” He snarls in-between baited breathes, he could hardly get the sentence out with your pussy clenching down on him.

“The same applies to me, no?” You mock him. He slams you down hard enough for you breath to get caught in your throat, enough for a lewd moan to slip from your lips. He grabs ahold of your boob and guides it to his mouth, sucking on it, licking your nipple, that doesn’t last long enough, he pops off the nipple to rub at your clit.

He flicks it and even pinches it, getting an annoyed reaction out of you. You hold on to the side of his chair like throne and begin bouncing on his cock all by yourself. The combined pleasure has your stomach clenching.

“Fuck- m’so close.” You’re like a rabid animal chasing after your high, your vision seems spotty. His shaft keeps throbbing inside of you every-time you take a moment to rest. You lift up one more time before coming down. Your body convulses and you’re gasping for air, his fat cock has you cumming and whining. You’ve soaked his abdomen In your juices. You’re slumped ontop of him attempting to put yourself back together.

He gives you a moment of clarity, he moves fast when he starts fucking you again, your pussy being filled with him once more. The gross mixture of your cum creates nasty noises which bounces off the walls when your hips meet his. You let him use you to the fullest extent, mumbling in his ear on how full you feel and how good his cock feels. Though he already knows that but he likes his ego to be stroked.

His hands find their way to your ass, gripping the flesh hard in between his fingers as he uses it as a leverage point to slam you down more firmly, oh he was definitely cumming inside you.

You start kissing him with pure tongue, sucking on it and dragging it into your own mouth, he once again lets you. He uses his own tongue to lick the drool that’s starting to seep out of your mouth: it’s so damn dirty and lewd.

“Oh god- m’cumming inside you.” He slurs out in between the messy kisses. He stands up while still holding you, he keeps bucking his hips up into you. He stills and buries his cock deep inside of you, his balls tighten in a way it almost fucking hurts, moaning with no shame he finally cums, you can feel his sticky cum filling you, it feels so gross but in the same sentence you want to experience it all over again. He falls back into his chair with you still settled in his lap.

“Mm….” He pants out enjoying the best orgasm he’s had in a while, you make a move to leave his lap but he keeps you against his chest, “don’t even think about it, I’ll be keeping you close to me.” You obediently nod.

[wosola]

French kisses .1 - Lucy Bronze x French!Reader

Hey everyone! I’m J. I used to write fanfiction on Wattpad for another fandom, but for a while now, I’ve mostly just been reading. Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time on AO3, where I started reading WoSo fanfics and fell into @bruhnze’s incredible works. After reading everything she’d published, I found her on Tumblr.

Recently, @bruhnze announced she was taking a break from writing. We connected, and I had the absolute honor of reading through her WIPs. One of them really inspired me, so I asked if I could finish it—and she said yes!

Originally planned as a single fic, this story grew into a 3-parter as I worked on it 🫣😅 Long story short: WIP by @bruhnze, finished by me, and proofread by her.

Summary: This is during Lucy Bronze’s time playing for Lyon, she's just gotten into a relationship with R, a 22-year-old student. For R it is the first time sleeping with someone. Based on this request, from the☀️anon over on @bruhnze.

Warnings: This is an 18+ fanfic with explicit content, so minors do not interact.

You had grown up in Lyon, lived there all your life. It had never been particularly eventful—your life was great, really. You loved your studies, had a close-knit group of friends, and there wasn’t much more to it.

The only thing that seemed to be missing, or at least it was something that was out of sync with your friends, was your love life. At 22, you had never really had one. While everyone around you seemed to be hooking up left, right and center, it never quite worked out that way for you. Not that you didn’t want to; you did.

It was just that you had never met anyone who stirred something in you in your everyday life. Sure, you’d kissed people now and then, but whenever things started to go further, you found yourself pulling back.

As time passed, being a virgin at your big age started to feel a bit strange. You were well past the point where a one-night stand felt like the right way to lose your virginity. Maybe it was because you didn’t know how to navigate all of that, or maybe you were worried that whoever you were with wouldn’t expect it and you’d feel awkward.

But in the blessed year 2017, as fate would have it, everything changed when you met a cute English girl in the local supermarché.

She had been struggling to find something on the shelves, her expression a mix of confusion and determination, when you decided to offer her a hand. The girl, who introduced herself as Lucy, explained in broken French that she had just moved to Lyon.

You helped her find what she was looking for, and as a thank you, Lucy asked for your number. You laughed and teased her, asking what she planned to do with it.

She had grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and in her charmingly imperfect French, she replied, "the least I can do is buy the pretty girl who helped me a dinner." That made you laugh harder, and when you joked about her not knowing any good restaurants yet, she just shrugged and said, "then you can decide where we go."

She had this boldness that was as charming as it was disarming—and, okay, maybe her being absurdly good-looking didn’t hurt in swaying your answer either. It was a yes without doubt, however towards Lucy you stayed a bit more unfazed.

That was a few months ago. Now, Lucy was much more comfortable with her French, picking it up quicker than you’d expected.

And not only was the woman smart, she was also incredibly athletic, which you'd noticed from the start. But on your fifth date, when you two had gone swimming, you couldn’t help but be floored by how fit she really was.

It wasn’t just her body, though—Lucy was thoughtful, kind, funny and so much more. You saw that side of her when she came with you to visit your grandpa in the hospital, bringing him a Lyon shirt signed by a player as a gift. You almost cried, you’d only mentioned that your grandpa was a life long fan of the club and here she was, gifting a signed shirt to him?!

That’s how you found out she was a footballer. Lucy had handed the signed jersey to your grandfather, grinning with that mischievous spark in her eye. “Hope you don’t mind it’s from a pretty new signing,” she’d teased. Then, with a playful glint, she added, “But I’ve heard she’s world-class. Do you know any players from Olympique Lyonnais Féminin? I can get another autograph if this one doesn’t impress you.”

Without skipping a beat, your grandfather, his face lighting up, assured her he did, mentioning that he always tried to catch matches, even if he mostly had to listen rather than watch due to his eyesight. “This is number 22, Bronze. She’s a great defender,” he said with pride. “I was thrilled when they signed her. Do you know her from England, or how did you manage to get this autograph?”

Your jaw nearly dropped as you glanced over at Lucy, who was barely holding back a smile.

“Yeah, you could say I’m close with her. Some say we’re practically twins,” she joked before reaching out to shake his hand. “But actually, I am Lucy Bronze. Nice to meet you, sir.”

Your grandfather’s laughter was as genuine as you’d heard in ages, his disbelief quickly turning into a delighted grin. It was as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I won’t let you down,” she told him, her voice softer, promising. “We’ll bring home the Champions League for Lyon.”

-

You’d been dating for three months now, and things were going great. Lucy had met your friends, and they adored her. You told her early on that you wanted to take things slow, and she had been nothing but understanding. She didn’t want to rush things either, but she wasn’t afraid to show you how much she liked you. Everything felt so natural with her, as if it was meant to be.

There was a dinner planned with your parents this Sunday, tomorrow she had a match, but today was one of her rest days after a Champions League game.

After a relaxed afternoon strolling around the city, shopping for a birthday gift for a friend, Lucy insisted on stopping by the supermarket. She wanted to cook at home, saying she wanted a romantic night with you. You agreed, and soon, you were back at your apartment, where you spent more time kissing than actually cooking.

It had been happening more and more recently—lingering touches, playful kisses that turned into longer, deeper ones. Every time, though, it stopped before it could go too far. Sometimes it felt natural, like you both were happy to just be together, but other times it felt more abrupt, leaving your heart racing. You wanted her, of course—how could you not?—but there was still that one thing you hadn’t told her yet, and it held you back.

Lucy had noticed. She’d asked a few times, worried that you might’ve had bad experiences in the past, but you assured her that wasn’t the case. You just wanted to take your time, and she had been so patient with you, always respecting your boundaries. Sometimes recently, it was even Lucy who would pull back, smiling at you sweetly, her eyes filled with desire but also understanding.

You loved her. You wanted to share everything with her, every part of yourself.

Twice now, she had stayed the night at your place. She had offered to sleep in separate beds, but you had waved that away, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep cuddled up next to her.

And now, after watching her play last night and lying awake, tossing and turning, you had decided that you were ready to tell her what had been holding you back.

You wanted, ached, to explore this part of your relationship, and tonight, with the romantic dinner she planned, felt like the perfect moment.

Now you were here, a lovely dinner behind your belt.. fidgeting with your wine glass, noticing that strangely enough, Lucy seemed a bit nervous too.

You both spoke up at the same time.

“Y/N—” “Luce—”

Breathy laughter filled the air, easing some of the tension you both seemed to be holding. “You go,” you said in unison again, which only made you laugh harder.

You gently took her hands in yours. “No, you go, baby.”

“Baby..,” Lucy repeated slowly, as if she was rolling the word around in her mouth, trying to make up if she liked the taste of it, her eyes searching your face.

Your heart skipped a beat. Shit. Did she not like that? You had been using the term more and more recently, thinking you were both building toward something more, maybe even thinking of her as your girlfriend already. Panic crept in until Lucy's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“I thought,” she began, tightening her grip on your hands, “that it was about time… that I asked you to be my girlfriend.” Her words tumbled out quickly, like she was nervous. “I know you want to take things really slow,” she added, rambling a little, “but I just really, really, really like you. More than that even.” She let out a breathy laugh, glancing away for a second, before her gaze settled back on yours. “But I won’t scare you with that just yet. What I’m trying to say is... I want to call you my girlfriend. So, um… if you—”

“Oui!” you cut her off, the word bursting from you with so much enthusiasm that it took you both by surprise. You felt your face flush with heat as you quickly added, “Uh, yes, Lucy, I love you too—” You stopped mid-sentence, blushing furiously. “I-I mean, I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you corrected, your voice softer but no less sincere.

Lucy’s smile stretched from ear to ear as she stood up from her seat, and you rose to meet her. The moment felt so perfect, so right.

She kissed you, a kiss filled with warmth and love, and you returned it with all the affection you’d been building up for this woman for months now. God, you were in love.

After a few long moments, you pulled back, your heart pounding. You knew you still had to tell her the other thing. But Lucy was looking at you with such softness in her eyes, her face lit with joy. You couldn’t help but brush your thumbs along her cheeks, feeling the heat of her skin under your touch.

“Love me huh?” Lucy teased at your little slip of the tongue earlier, her voice low and playful.

You chuckled, your nerves easing slightly. “Yes, I love you, Luce, je t'aime” you admitted, voicing the words felt like lifting a weight off your chest.

“Hmmm…” Lucy hummed, her grin widening as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “That makes me really happy. I love you too,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin.

Before you knew it, Lucy’s hands had moved to cup your ass, lifting you up effortlessly. You squealed in surprise, even though she had done this before—it caught you off guard. Maybe because you still had to tell that other thing. But you couldn’t help but laugh as she carried you over to the couch, sitting down with you perched on her lap.

Both of you dissolved into giggles as you peppered each other’s faces with kisses, one after another. “I am so in love with you,” you murmured between kisses, your forehead resting gently against hers as you gazed into her eyes.

Lucy laughed, her nose brushing against yours. “It’s funny that we both wanted to tell each other that tonight,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Your cheeks flushed again, this time not just from the affection but from what you knew you had to say next. “I… I also…” you stammered, trying to find the right words. Lucy tilted her head, a curious smile tugging at her lips as she waited patiently.

“I also wanted.. uh no.. needed.. to tell you something else,” you finally managed, your voice a little shaky.

“Oh?” Lucy’s eyebrows lifted slightly, her expression soft. “Is it… a good thing?”

You bit your lip, unsure. “I’d…uh.. I’d say it’s more of a neutral thing?” you said, trying to ease into it.

Lucy smiled, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze as she leaned back against the couch. “Okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I know. It’s just… hard for me to say, I guess.” You could feel your nerves bubbling up again. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Lucy’s gaze was steady, encouraging. “Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for,” she said softly. “Take your time.”

“I… I have never…” You struggled to find the right words, but they just wouldn’t come. “I mean, I know how everything works, of course, but I’ve just… never actually… done it.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and you quickly looked down, embarrassed.

Lucy was quiet for a long moment, so long that you finally forced yourself to glance up at her. To your surprise, her expression hadn’t changed—she was still looking at you with warmth and understanding.

“Hey,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over your lower lip, gently freeing it from between your teeth where you’d been nervously biting it. “Thank you for telling me.”

You groaned, your forehead dropping against her collarbone. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief.

Lucy chuckled softly, her hand smoothing over your back. “Sorry for what? Like you said, it’s a neutral thing. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” She tilted your chin up so you could meet her eyes again. “I’m just happy you told me. Now I understand why we always stopped when we did.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and smiled shyly. Lucy’s hands found their way to your cheeks again, cupping your face with such tenderness that you couldn’t help but feel safe.

The two of you stared at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in before both of you burst into soft, breathy giggles, the tension dissolving.

You both had ended up lying down on the couch, nestled against each other in a comfortable silence. Lucy’s arm was around your waist, your head resting on her chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of her breathing. The warmth of her body and the way her fingers absentmindedly traced small circles on your arm made you feel calm, safe.

It must have been at least half an hour before you finally worked up the courage to speak.

“So… how do you, uh, want to do things?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Lucy tilted her head slightly, meeting your gaze with a curious look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” she responded, her voice gentle, as if she were afraid of pressuring you. “I mean… I want to do whatever you want, however you want, and when you want it.”

Her words made you smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. She was always so thoughtful, so patient. But the truth was, you had been thinking about this for a while now. You swallowed hard, trying to push past the embarrassment rising in your chest. “I feel like I’m ready,” you began, but the words felt heavy in your throat.

Lucy’s expression softened even more, her hand rubbing soothingly along your back, waiting for you to continue.

“That’s… I…” Your face flushed bright red as you tried to find the right words. You couldn’t tell her just how ready you were without blushing even harder.

The truth was, ever since you and Lucy had started dating, you had never felt this kind of desire before. In the past few weeks, your own body had been betraying you, and the thought of Lucy, had been invading your mind, especially when you were alone. You had never been so… wanting. It was like something in you had awakened. It wasn’t just the emotional connection—you physically craved her.

“Uhm… it’s been hard,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “not going further than kissing with you.” Your cheeks burned even more as you confessed, “But I felt like I needed to tell you this first before we went further… it was hard for me to confess.. I feel a bit.. uhm.. behind?”

Lucy’s thumb gently stroked your cheek, silently urging you to continue, her face calm and open.

“I’ve been thinking about… you,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly. The vulnerability of the statement hung between you, the air thick with it. “A lot.”

Lucy’s lips curved into a small, tender smile as she listened. She didn’t laugh or tease you like you might’ve feared. Instead, she looked at you with a warmth that made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she said quietly, her voice sincere. “But I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t want to rush into anything until you felt ready. I wanted to respect your boundaries and I am really happy you told me this before we went further, and you’re not behind at all by the way, everyone does things at their own pace.”

You nodded, appreciating her patience but feeling the need for honesty. “But really I… I’ve been more than ready,” you repeated, the words rushing out now that you had started. “It’s been hard for me to hold back. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to… you know, go further with you. I’ve just never… done it before.” You didn’t know why you were repeating yourself, maybe to bring over to Lucy how much you meant it.

Lucy nodded, her hand moving to intertwine with yours. “I get it,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you told me. I want you to feel comfortable with whatever we do, and I don’t want you to feel like there’s any pressure.” She paused for a moment, searching your face. “But when you’re ready, whenever that is, I’m here. We’ll take it slow, together.”

You smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered, resting your forehead against hers.

Lucy sighed contentedly as she lay beneath you on the couch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. After a moment, she cleared her throat, breaking the comfortable silence.

“So, um… your parents,” she started, her voice tentative. “Sunday dinner, huh? What’s that going to be like?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “What about it?” you asked, propping yourself up slightly to look at her.

Lucy gave a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t know, like… have you told them anything about me? Do they know we’re dating, or is this going to be a complete surprise?” She bit her lip, clearly a little anxious. “I just want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Why are you thinking about that right now?” you asked, your tone playful as you began trailing soft kisses along her neck, nuzzling into the warmth of her skin.

Lucy let out a breathy laugh, though her body tensed slightly under your touch. “I—uh… I just don’t want to screw it up. Are you sure you really want to do this right now?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

She turned her head to look at you, concern flickering in her eyes. “I don’t want to rush you, y/n.”

You giggled against her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “Three months isn’t enough of a wait for you?” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Lucy chuckled, her body relaxing slightly as she looked up at you, her nerves fading a little. “Okay… so the dams have really broken now, haven’t they?” She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“Well, now that I’ve told you, and you didn’t get scared away... I have to admit, I’m kind of excited. I mean…” you grinned sheepishly. “I find you really attractive.”

She smiled as you moved your hand under her shirt, your fingertips brushing against her warm skin, you whispered, “I’m in love with you, Luce. I want to share that part of myself with you, too. And you know…” You paused, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. “Je sais à quel point tu es bon au football, alors je ne peux qu’imaginer que tes talents athlétiques s’étendent au-delà de ce jeu…’’ You whispered.  

Lucy giggled, swatting at you playfully. “Oh, you’re cheeky,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But she glanced up at the ceiling with a grin and added, “Are you sure you’ve got no experience at all? It feels like I’m more out of it than you are right now.”

You sat up a little, shifting so that you were straddling her hips, your hands resting lightly on her stomach. You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh?” you asked, smirking slightly. “Has it been long for you?”

Lucy bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a moment before she admitted, “Maybe… half a year? I don’t know.”

“Versus 22 years,” you teased, rolling your eyes giggling. “I think I win.”

Lucy grinned, sitting up to face you, her hands resting on your waist. “Mmm, no. I think I win.” She leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I’ve got the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life sitting on my lap right now.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, your heart swelled in your chest. But instead of letting yourself get lost in the emotion, you smirked, leaning in close until your lips hovered just inches from hers. “Mmm, really?” you teased softly. “Tell me more…”

Lucy’s expression turned serious, though her eyes were still playful. “I mean it, y/n. Now that I know how much this means to you, I want it to be special… really special. I always wanted that for us, but now it feels even more important.”

You rolled your eyes in playful disbelief, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Mon chéri,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over her cheek, “we just had the most romantic dinner, confessed our love—I'd say that’s pretty perfect already, wouldn’t you? Besides, it’s already special because it’s with you, my love, you are the only person I could think of doing this with.”

Lucy’s smile deepened, and she reached up to brush her thumb along your cheek. “Perfect, sure,” she mused. “But… candles, flowers, fresh sheets…” She bit her lip, ‘’in my head I was going all out for you, I am not even wearing my good underwear, amour.’’

You chuckled, thinking of your preparations for today. ‘’I am.’’

You watched her pupils dilate, her eyes widening in surprise, and she swallowed hard, clearly taken aback. “Oh,” she said in a breathy tone, as if she had just forgotten how to speak.

You chuckled, watching her shift, almost flustered. “Are you getting shy, Luce?”

“No! It’s just that… I don’t know,” she stammered, running a hand through her hair, clearly struggling to keep her composure. “I really want to keep things slow, to be respectful and everything, but when you say things like that…” She scratched her neck, her voice barely a whisper, “it’s… hard to...”

“Hard to what?” you asked, delighted to see her cheeks flush, a sight you didn’t often get to see from her.

Lucy groaned, leaning back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s hard for me not to think about… taking things a little faster than planned.” Her voice came out all at once, as if she’d been holding it back.

You leaned in, your lips just grazing hers. “Well, what’s wrong with those thoughts, then?” you asked, teasingly brushing your fingers along her neck.

She exhaled softly, biting her lip as she hesitated. “Let’s… wait until after I’ve met your parents,” she finally managed, pulling back slightly, though it was clear that it took effort.

Your smile faltered, confusion and a hint of disappointment washing over you. “Oh… I thought…” You shifted off her, sitting up and moving to your own spot on the couch, feeling uncertain.

Lucy’s hand instinctively reached for yours, her expression tinged with a hint of panic. “No, no—y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to! I do, more than you know.” She looked down, as if gathering her thoughts. “I just thought, well, when you mentioned meeting your parents on Sunday, I figured it was important to you to wait until after that step.” She paused, glancing up at you with earnest eyes. “I actually had… this plan in my head for next week. Thursday, to be exact.”

You blinked, intrigued and slightly amused by her meticulousness. “You have… a plan?”

“Yeah,” she said, scratching her neck in that adorable way that always made you smile. “I even talked to your housemate to make sure she’d be out for the night. I thought, you know, after we’re official and all…” She laughed softly, glancing down shyly. “I was going to surprise you with candles, flowers, everything. It’d be in your own bed, so you’d be comfortable.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t want to pressure you, of course, but I wanted it to be right for you—like, um… create a perfect moment for us.”

Your heart melted as you listened, and you could hardly contain the adoration shining in your eyes. Here was this amazing, thoughtful woman who loved you so deeply, wanting everything to be perfect.

“Luce, you’re… adorable,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss her, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for such an incredible girlfriend.

You could feel the heat and intensity building between you, like two magnets drawn together. Your mouths met in a deep, fervent kiss, a silent conversation of everything you hadn’t said and all the things you were both holding back. It was a kiss full of promises, anticipation crackling in the air around you.

As the kiss deepened, Lucy’s hand slipped to your waist, and you let yourself sink into her warmth, into her presence.

After a moment, you pulled back just slightly, a small smirk crossing your face. “Are we sure we want to wait until next week?” you whispered, your voice low. “Today is a Thursday too.”

She took a deep breath, nervous laughter lighting up the room. “Well, I don’t know if I want that, but I think it would be best, so yes, I think I want that.”

“Thursday can’t come soon enough,” you groaned.

You both laughed, the intensity giving way to a moment of lightheartedness as you laid together, feeling secure, knowing that when the time was right, it would be everything you both had been waiting for.

After a while Lucy scooped you up into her arms effortlessly, grinning as you let out a surprised laugh. She headed toward the bedroom, ignoring your glance back at the kitchen.

“We really should clean up first,” you protested lightly, glancing over her shoulder at the table still set with empty plates and a bottle of wine.

Lucy shook her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Nope,” she said, nudging the bedroom door open with her hip. “Tonight we can cuddle, tomorrow we’ll worry about that again.”

Once in the bedroom, Lucy set you down at the edge of the bed.

You felt your cheeks warm as you began to undress, carefully slipping out of your top, suddenly hyperaware of her eyes on you. You hesitated, noticing she’d turned her head away slightly, as if trying to give you privacy, even now.

“No, you can look,” you murmured softly, smiling as her gaze shifted back to you, her eyes meeting yours with such warmth that your heart fluttered. “You’re my girlfriend,” you added, the last word feeling new and sweet on your lips.

Lucy’s gaze traveled over you slowly, and you felt a blush rising to your cheeks as you slipped out of your top and bra, letting them fall softly to the floor. For the first time, her eyes settled on the bare skin of your chest, and you could see her breath catch for a moment, her lips parting as she took you in.

You felt a mix of warmth and shyness under her gaze, but her expression was so open, so purely admiring, that you felt at ease. When her gaze lifted to yours, her eyes held a soft awe that made your heart skip. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, feeling both vulnerable and cherished in that moment, before turning to her closet and reaching for one of her oversized shirts to slip on. As you lifted it over your head, Lucy let out a little chuckle, recovering herself, and as she undressed down to her boxers and sports bra, her cheeks were pink.

Once undressed, you both climbed into bed, buried under the comforter as you found each other in the dim light, legs tangling together. She pulled you close, and her mouth met yours again, warm and gentle.

The kiss deepened, lips moving slowly, savoring each touch, each taste. Lucy’s hand rested on the small of your back, sliding upward with a feather-light touch that sent soft tingles across your skin. You felt a pleasant, fluttering warmth in your stomach as her fingers brushed over you.

Your own hands explored her too, grazing the line of her jaw, the smooth skin of her shoulder, and then down to her waist, lingering as you took in every detail. With every kiss, your heart raced faster, your body responding to her closeness, feeling both electric and calm at once.

But just as things were growing more intense, you felt a faint pulse of nerves, next Thursday was maybe not so bad. “Wait,” you whispered, smiling softly, though your cheeks were warm. “We haven’t brushed our teeth yet.”

Lucy paused, her eyes immediately searching yours, understanding lighting up in her gaze. She brushed a gentle hand over your cheek, offering a reassuring smile. “Totally forgot,” she said softly. Her hand found yours as she guided you to the bathroom, fingers intertwined as you both stood side by side at the sink.

You shared smiles as you brushed your teeth together, Lucy’s shoulder bumping lightly against yours, and even things like this simple routine felt special in her presence.

As you finished, you turned to find her already smiling, her hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Back in bed, Lucy wrapped her arm around you as you nestled close, her hand resting comfortably over your hip. You let yourself settle, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart, your own hand resting on her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

In the quiet, with Lucy’s arm wrapped around you and her hand softly resting on you, sleep came easily, and the last thing you heard before drifting off was the sound of her breathing, steady and warm, and the quiet, whispered words she murmured just before you both faded into dreams; “Goodnight, my love.”

-

I hope you guys like this, I felt a bit rusty writing again, but I think in the future I might be writing more woso fics.

Part 2 of this will follow soon!

-J.

[cece693]

hi! loved your pjo first they're amazing. I was wondering if I can request a headcannon of percy x son of aphrodite male reader? probably about how percy wants to ask them out and then them dating. thank you!

Fountain of Love (Percy Jackson x Son of Aphrodite)

Thanks for the request :) It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy it!

tags: nervous Percy, asking out, dating, son of Aphrodite is not only a pretty face but good with a sword, oblivious reader, puppy love

From the first moment Percy stepped foot into Camp Half-Blood, he knew your name—M/N, son of Aphrodite. You were somewhat of a legend at camp, not just for being devastatingly handsome, but also for your skill with a sword.

But you were oblivious as fuck. Even more so than Percy himself, which said a lot. No matter how many heads you turned as you passed by, or how many gifts appeared outside your cabin, you remained unaware of the effect you had on others. For you, the attention never seemed more than friendly admiration, nothing deeper.

Percy, however, was different. From the moment he first spent time with you, sitting by the lake, talking about sword techniques, and exchanging stories of battle until the dinner horn blew, he knew one thing—you were the one. It wasn’t just about how incredible you looked, it was how easy it felt to be around you, the way your smile softened his nerves.

But Percy wasn’t alone in his feelings. Dozens of campers—some Apollo kids, others from various cabins—were also vying for your attention, and Percy knew he wasn’t the only one wanting to ask you out.

Over time, he noticed the competition intensify. A couple of campers, Ares kids, constantly tried to one-up him during sword training, cracking jokes about him in your presence, trying to win your favor. Even the children of Hermes, known for their mischievous pranks, tried to outshine Percy in their own crafty ways. It was like everyone was fighting for their chance to stand out, hoping to catch your eye.

Percy fought through the jealousy and frustration, determined to find the perfect moment to finally ask you out. But every time he gathered his courage, something interrupted him—a monster drill, a sparring match, or another camper cutting him off.

One day, as Percy finally approached you by the campfire, an Ares kid—who clearly had the same idea—stepped in and asked you if you wanted to hang out. Percy clenched his jaw, stepping back in defeat, watching the moment slip away again.

Little did he know, you liked him back. You always had. His easy smile, his sense of humor, the way he seemed so sincere around you—it all made you fall for him in ways you hadn’t expected. But since Percy hadn’t made a move, you assumed maybe he wasn’t interested.

Days passed, and finally, Percy couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t wait for the perfect moment because every moment with you was already perfect. So, after a long training session, where the two of you fought side by side during a particularly difficult capture-the-flag game, Percy found the nerve.

The two of you were covered in dirt and sweat, but it didn’t matter. As you both sat by the lake, cooling off, Percy finally turned to you and blurted it out, “I like you. A lot. And, um, would you maybe want to go out with me? Like, officially?”

You blinked, a bit stunned by his sudden confession, but then you laughed, a soft sound that sent Percy’s heart racing. “I like you too, Percy. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was speechless. You? Liked him back? He couldn’t believe it.

From that day forward, the two of you were inseparable, and when you became boyfriends, everyone in camp knew it. Percy’s friends teased him relentlessly, but nothing would wipe the dopey grin off his face whenver your name was mentioned.

You and Percy balanced each other perfectly—his brave heart and your calm confidence were an unbeatable pair.

But dating at Camp Half-Blood wasn’t without its challenges. There were moments when Percy’s duties as a hero pulled him away, leaving you to worry. You’d send messages through Iris, waiting anxiously for his return, and there were times when he came back battered from battles that left your heart aching. The other demigods, those who had once vied for your attention, sometimes stirred up trouble out of jealousy, testing the strength of your relationship with snide remarks and rumors.

Still, the two of you always found ways to push through. When Percy felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, you were there to remind him he didn’t have to carry it alone. You comforted him when nightmares from the Titan War resurfaced, holding his hand and promising that, together, you could face anything.

And when your own insecurities came up—doubts about whether Percy could love someone like you, despite the constant attention you received—he reassured you that you were more than enough.

“I chose you,” Percy would say, with that earnest smile that made everything feel okay. “And I’d choose you over and over again.”

No matter what challenges arose—whether it was monsters, the gods’ interference, or the complications of being demigods—the bond you shared only grew stronger. And eventually, when the Great War ended, Percy would drop on one knee and ask you to marry him :)

[pprodsuga]

secrets untold (part 1) | sunghoon

summary: ever since sunghoon graduated university, he’s been working the same bothersome job without any real excitement in his life. but when you move into the apartment next to his, sunghoon’s reality is turned upside down and he finds himself running all over korea with you by his side. as he comes to learn, not everything is as it seems.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

notes: ahhhhh. four revisions later and i’ve managed to write the best version of this story. i also made a playlist that you should definitelyyyy listen to while reading this. there’s nothing left for me to say other than i love sunghoon and i hope you enjoy. xx

SECRETS UNTOLD PLAYLIST

WORD COUNT: 24.1K

MASTERLIST + TAGLIST SIGN UP

to my lovely best friend @moonstruck-muses for helping me on my revisions, for brainstorming with me, and for being the best person i know.

consider leaving a comment (or two) and reblogging! x

warnings under the cut!

content warnings: mentions and descriptions of guns and a blood wound, violence in the form of hand-to-hand combat and gunshots, descriptions of stitches, alcohol use.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Just once does Sunghoon wish for something exciting in his life. 

Day in and day out, he swipes his keycard to enter the lobby of the high-rise building he calls his workplace and locates his secluded office by the back of the floor. His name sits in gold lettering, the prestigious plaque gifted to him upon his promotion a few years prior. Sunghoon’s morning begins by opening his laptop to note all of the reports he has yet to finish from the day before and checks his email for any lingering questions from clients or his co-workers. Despite his diligence, his peers aren’t and he finds himself picking up the slack more often than not. Being a financial analyst was not on Sunghoon’s bucket list of goals to achieve in his twenties. In fact, Sunghoon would rather do almost anything other than look at numbers all day and tell people what to do with them. 

If he had his way, Sunghoon would have chosen a career path less rigorous and numerical-based. He would’ve tried his hand at photography and studied the fine arts to garner a career in the editorial space, or perhaps he would use his time at university to study the history of coffee before opening his own shop in the busy city of Seoul. But his parents had other plans for him, namely to study law, medicine, or finance, and the latter of the three options seemed less boring to him. 

His years of studying lead him here, at Kim Search Group, crunching numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him. 

The glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose become bothersome after an hour of staring at his laptop. His next meeting is in twenty minutes and he’s less than pleased when he realizes his reports are on the docket. The agenda stares back at him in hard, black letters like they’re taunting him. Sunghoon thinks they mock him with the way the cursor hovers over the parts highlighted for his portion of the presentation. Nonetheless, Sunghoon acquires what he needs and heads to the meeting room. 

Everybody arrives early as usual. His boss concludes the opening remarks and lets his employees take the floor. One by one, Sunghoon’s co-workers stand in the front of the room and report their findings and other related topics from the past month. It all sounds the same to him; every person in this room looks like they could be carbon copies of one another with their suits too expensive and cologne too strong. It makes Sunghoon nauseous. Everybody here lives for everyone else instead for themselves, himself included.

“Good work, Park,” his boss tells him on the way out of the meeting room. “I grow impressed by your work ethic and capabilities everyday.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim,” Sunghoon says with a bow.  

“Do you think you can finish the Kang-Yoon reports by tonight? Our clients will be here first thing tomorrow morning to review before they decide on their purchase. I’d love to get them a first draft of their financial report when they come in.” 

With a tight smile, Sunghoon nods. “Sure thing. I’ll email it to you tonight.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Mr. Kim winks. He nudges Sunghoon’s arm like they’re old friends. 

By the time he gets home, it’s nearly nine in the evening. His tie sits loosely around his neck and his suit jacket is thrown haphazardly over his arm with the too-expensive briefcase his father bought him when he had been promoted. Sunghoon can’t help but scoff when he sees the dark brown leather staring back at him. 

Sunghoon lives in a quiet part of town, just on the outskirts of Seoul. His neighbors are either asleep by the time the sun goes down or busy juggling children with muffled laughter echoing in the hallways. Typically, Sunghoon expects to come home and enter his apartment lobby to be greeted by the doorman who wishes him a good night, take the elevator to the third floor, and tidy his living room while trying to undress himself in the meantime. 

Except, you’ve moved into the apartment next to his. 

Now, Sunghoon walks with excitement because he anticipates running into you when he’s on his way up. Sometimes you both arrive at the lobby together. Other times it’s you that he sees unlocking his door when he approaches. It doesn’t matter to him, though. The only good thing about working late on the weekdays is that he gets to run into you when he comes home. 

He quickly learns that you like to keep to yourself. You aren’t a loud person–not like his neighbor who lives on the other side of him–because he barely hears your footsteps and never hears you watching television. The most he’s heard is the scrape of a chair against hardwood floors. 

Above all, Sunghoon thinks you’re cute. You make his heart flutter for no good apparent reason. He’s barely spoken a word to you beyond introducing himself when you first moved in and yet he finds himself pacing his living room, wondering what kind of food you like to eat and what you do on the weekends. 

Sunghoon wishes he could come up with something witty to say to convince you to keep talking to him. But even seeing you in your well-worn clothes and tires expression on a Wednesday night is enough to leave him flustered. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon says awkwardly with a single nod in acknowledgement when he sees you standing in front of your apartment. He watches your hand halt by the knob. You turn your head to look around you and Sunghoon feels the heat creep up his neck. 

“Hi?” you say with an uptick in your voice, pointing at yourself. 

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.” 

“You already said that.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Sunghoon.” 

“I know. I remember you from when I moved in.” 

“O-Oh,” Sunghoon stutters. “Right, yeah. You’re right. Well, I’ll introduce myself again in case you need anything.” 

You unlock your apartment and step inside. “Duly noted. Goodnight, Sunghoon.” 

When the door locks behind you, Sunghoon closes his eyes and curses at the ceiling for being awkward around you. He swears he might’ve felt his knees buckle when he looked into your eyes and struggles to fish out his apartment keys. 

He always wishes he could say something that would convince you to stay in the hallway just a minute longer. He wants to be courageous enough to ask a question that piques your interest, so much so that he invites you back to his apartment to discuss it over a bottle of soju before you head back to your place. But Sunghoon doesn’t do any of that because he always gets tongue-tied when he realizes you’re standing before him, and because you always close the door before he can even think of something else to say to you. Sunghoon sighs in defeat and loosens his tie as soon as he steps through the threshold of his own apartment. 

He sleeps with the sound of crickets chirping outside his window. 

The following morning is the same. Sunghoon wakes up before the sun has the chance to say hello, swipes his keycard to access his office, and stares at his laptop until he’s sure his eyes will fall out of their sockets. 

While he meanders in his office with an unusually meeting-free day, Sunghoon uses his idle time to think about you. It seems as if his thoughts gravitate towards you these days, especially as he’s gathered the courage to say more than a few words every time you’re in his line of sight. He still feels that anxiety in the pit of his stomach when he sees you with your hair down after a long day, but it’s not enough to discourage Sunghoon from being as polite as he can so that you remember him as being kind. 

If he remembers correctly, you moved into the apartment next to his four months ago. Sunghoon recalls seeing a load of boxes perched by your front door and the bubbling excitement of seeing the new tenant piqued his interest. A large one was used as a door stopper and he’d noticed you carrying boxes inside one-by-one. In fact, that’s the first and only time Sunghoon recalls seeing what the interior of your apartment looked like. White, bare, and undecorated. He had offered to help but you declined on the notion that you hired movers to help bring the rest of your belongings. The two of you exchanged names and pleasantries, and when the conversation fell flat, Sunghoon settled to welcome you into the neighborhood and told you to reach out if you ever needed anything. Much to his dismay, you didn’t. 

It’s crazy for him to think about how tongue-tied he’s gotten for a complete stranger over a short period of time, even crazier because he doesn’t know the first thing about you. 

It’s gotten so bad that his friends have heard Sunghoon speak about you countless times. 

Jay and Jake are his best friends from college and the only people he talks to. Sunghoon’s career has overtaken his social life with many friendships and blooming relationships falling apart because of his commitment to work. His degree is the product of parental expectation, but his paycheck is enough to make him feel comfortable and Sunghoon likes to surround himself with people who don’t make him feel like a stoic shell of a human being. 

It seems as though Jay and Jake aren’t tired of him because they regularly include him in drinking nights and check in about his nonexistent relationship with his neighbor crush. Jay in particular is extremely vocal about having work-life balance in order to, as he puts it, “have a life for yourself before you grow old and die alone.” 

For now, however, Sunghoon is happy watching you from afar and praying that there’s a reason for the two of you to become closer. 

It’s another Tuesday night and Sunghoon is staying late again. Mr. Kim is too, so Sunghoon supposes tonight must not be all that bad if his superior has ordered takeout for himself for the late hours. Sunghoon arrives at his apartment around the same time he always does and prepares himself for a well deserved, deep slumber before he does this again tomorrow. Only, Sunghoon hopes he sees you before he’s off to dreamland.

And there you are, unlocking your apartment door. You look far too cute at nine in the evening. It’s unfair. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon calls out to you, throat far too dry to continue speaking. He pulls his keys out of his pockets to keep himself busy when he feels your eyes burning into him. 

“That’s the second time you’ve started a conversation by saying that.” Sunghoon whips his head in your direction to be met with a charming smile that seems almost playful. It’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him like this and he swears he feels his knees buckle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “I guess I’m running out of things to say after a long day at work.”

“Is it that bad?”

Sunghoon breathes out a laugh. “I’m a financial analyst. Long hours and not a lot of socializing, if you can believe it.”

“Oh,  I believe it.” You put your keys in the lock and push the door open. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of math.” 

“It all starts to look the same after a while but you get used to it. Crunching all those numbers…I feel like I’m saving the world,” Sunghoon says facetiously. 

“Well, I'm sure you’re a superhero to someone.” 

“I highly doubt it, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.” 

“I hope tomorrow is kinder,” you tell him as you walk into your apartment. “Don’t let those numbers get you down.” 

“Goodnight,” he calls after as you close the door with a friendly smile. 

Sunghoon is barely able to make it into his apartment when his cheeks start to hurt from how wide he’s stretched the lower half of his face. As he stares at your shared wall, he feels a sense of excitement and pride swell in his chest upon replaying his conversation with you over and over again. He paces in his living room with the image of your grin etched in his memory and eats a quick meal before getting ready for bed. 

Sunghoon sleeps with a smile on his face. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When the weekend approaches, Jay and Jake accompany Sunghoon to a bar across from his apartment on a rare Friday night at eight o-clock on the dot.

For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon leaves his office right on time with no prospect of having to work later in the evening or on the weekend. His friends convince him to go to the dive bar and celebrate his early dismissal with a drink or two. Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he saw them so casually like this because he’s either still at the office or too tired to agree to their plans. 

Each of them have at least two drinks in their system. The bar food is starting to digest and the chips are a little too stale for Sunghoon’s liking but Jay and Jake don’t seem to mind as they keep shoveling them into their mouths in between conversations. The two of them seem far too energetic for Sunghoon to keep up and the exhaustion from the past week is finally catching up to him. 

“Work has been killing me,” Jake groans while clutching his beer bottle. “You know how I just passed my two-year mark at the Seoul Research Center? Well, my boss assigned me an apprentice who’s interning for the semester and he’s just not cut out for this kind of stuff. I have to remind him about basic protocol every single time we work together.” 

“That blows,” Jay says. 

“I babysit him more than I do my actual work and I’ve been going in on Saturdays to finish my work. My boss told me not to fuck this up because this kid is apparently the son of one of the investors and plans to work here full time after he graduates college. This is gonna blow up in my face, guys. I just know it.” Jake sighs. “But what about you both? What have you been up to?”

“Some idiot misfiled a bunch of expense reports and I’m responsible for managing them.” Jay rolls his eyes and slumps back in his seat. “I’m good at my job, I know I am. I bring in clients like it’s nobody’s business but because I’m the youngest on my team, all of the managerial tasks are put on me. I mean, we have a secretary for a reason and that’s literally in the job description. Why can’t they do it?” 

“Guess this is a bad week for both of us,” Jake says with a light chuckle. “I look forward to the weekend when I realize it’s Monday.” 

“What about you, Sunghoon? How are things with you and the firm?”

The condensation of his drink feels nice against Sunghoon’s palm. Jay and Jake are looking at him expectantly and he knows the topic would come around to his job at one point or another. He plasters a small smile on his face and tries to answer as honestly as possible. 

“Same old, same old. I’ve only been working late a few days every other week. It’s not as taxing as it was before.” 

“Are the higher ups still giving you a hard time?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’m only responsible for seven junior analysts. They’re all competent enough and get their work done on time. I don’t really have to look after them like my colleagues and thank god for that.” 

“I’m still rooting for you to quit your job,” Jay encourages. 

“I’ll quit my job when you quit yours.” 

“Touche.” They don’t press him about it anymore. 

“Any update on the hottie next door?” Jake asks.

“Don’t call Y/N that,” Sunghoon scolds. “You make her sound like a hooker.” 

Jake shrugs. “You said she was hot.” 

“I said she was pretty.”

“So you don’t think she’s hot?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes as the other two laugh at him from across the booth. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. It’s fun to see you all riled up.” 

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you.”

“Okay, enough with Jake.” Jay pushes his friend to the back of the booth to get closer to Sunghoon with both elbows on the table. “On a serious note, have you talked to her yet?” Sunghoon closes his eyes shut in shame and grimaces. “I’ll take it as a no?” 

“Oh we talked,” he says, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. “I actually grew a pair and talked to her when I came home.” 

“Why is that a bad thing?” 

“I started the only conversations we’ve had by saying ‘hey’ like a virgin loser.” Sunghoon groans before facing his friends again. “She called me out on it too.” 

“Ouch,” Jake winces. “That bad?” 

“Well, she laughed and we talked about my job a little. She called me a superhero for dealing with math.” 

Jay shrugs. “You kind of are.”“Did anything else happen?” Jake asks. “Did she invite you over? Did you invite her over?”

“Slow down, Jaeyun. Not everyone is as pathetically desperate as you are.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “No, I didn’t invite her over. I also didn’t go to her place. But she said she hoped the next day would be kinder so I think that’s a good sign?” 

“Dude, you’re thinking way too hard about this. That’s like, the best kind of sign. It means she cares about you.” 

“I wouldn’t go so far to say that. Maybe the next time I see her, I won’t be such a fucking loser.” Sunghoon finishes his drink. 

“Well, maybe you won’t be so tongue tied now that you guys are familiar with each other,” says Jake. “She knows something about you now.” 

“But I don’t know anything about her,” Sunghoon groans. 

“That’s why you make small talk, Hoon. Maybe try asking Y/N about her day and see where that takes you.” 

“Y/N seems like the kind of person to keep to herself. She’s always so quiet.” 

“Maybe she’s just a quiet person, then,” Jay adds. “You know, someone you have to get to know in order to get them out of their shell.” 

“I’m so bad at talking to girls.” Sunghoon chastises himself and nods when the waiter signals to ask if he’d like another beer. “I get in my own head and end up making a fool of myself.” 

“If words fail, just smile at her and use your good looks,” Jake teases. The waiter brings the three of them fresh, cold bottles. Sunghoon takes a long sip and savors the flavor as it slides down his throat. The coolness of the liquid provides a nice contrast to his warm face. 

“I couldn’t tell you why I'm so hung up on Y/N. When I see her, I feel like my feet are planted into the floor and nothing I want to say comes out of my mouth.” 

“That, my friend, is what it’s like to have a crush,” Jay says. “I mean, you remember the time Jake had a crush on his lab partner in sophomore year, right? The one time he brought her coffee, he ended up spilling it on her white shirt.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jake groans. “But God, I’m really no better.” 

“You’re not the only one feeling like this, man.” Jay takes a drink. “Maybe you should take it as slow as you are right now, you know? Start by talking to her before you both go your separate ways. Maybe you’ll be comfortable enough to ask her on a date.” 

Sunghoon laughs humorlessly. “God, I’ve been pining after this girl for so long and I don’t know a single thing about her other than her name. What if I never get to know her? What if she moves away and we don’t keep in touch? Or worse, what if she's dating somebody? What if she’s not into guys?” 

“Well, I don’t think we can help there,” Jake shrugs. 

“I mean, I’d be bummed but I wouldn’t be upset.” 

“You would totally be upset.” 

“Okay,” Sunghoon says. “Maybe a little upset.”

“There’s no use in thinking about what-ifs,” Jay advises. “You’ll only give yourself a headache.” 

“My mom keeps asking about when I’m gonna get a wife,” Sunghoon complains. “Every time we talk on the phone, I can tell she humors the pleasant talk about my job and life because she becomes really animated when she asks that question. How do I tell her that I’m so fucking hung up on my neighbor that the thought of dating anyone else repulses me?” 

“Damn,” Jay swears. “You really like this girl, don’t you?” 

“Yes, and it’s really fucking frustrating to pine after her because I barely know her and I’m ready to drop everything if she called me right now.” 

“Maybe she’s not worth it,” Jake says with a shrug. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but maybe there’s a reason why you haven’t been able to make a move on her. Maybe you guys aren’t good for each other and the universe is trying to tell you that. I don’t know.” 

“I just wish someone would send me a sign,” Sunghoon pleads. “I don’t really know what sign, but something that’ll make us talk more. I need courage. I just need one chance. If it fails and she rejects me, then I’ll be an adult and move on with my life.” 

“You deserve to be happy,” says Jay. “After all the shit you’ve been through, you deserve at least to go on a date with a cute girl.” 

“Everything feels so bleak these days. I go to work every single day and leave unfulfilled. It’s like I’m floating through my day to make it to the weekend just to do this every single week. Before I know it, the holidays have come and another year goes by. I feel like I’m wasting my life by being at this job but my parents sacrificed so much so that I could have the life I have now.

“I don’t know what to do, guys. Every day feels the same. I wonder if this is how my life is supposed to be for the rest of it. Life is so fucking hard and all I want is a break. I just want to feel something.”

“I wish we could give it to you,” Jay says quietly. He knocks his hands to Sunghoon’s. “You know we’re with you every step of the way, right?” 

“I know. It’s just…hard.” 

“You’re the best person I know, Hoon,” Jake comforts. “I’m really sorry that everything went down the way it did.” 

“Sometimes, I wonder if I feel like this for Y/N because I daydream about her to escape my life,” Sunghoon confesses. “I think about a future with her, and I know that sounds crazy considering I barely know her, but sometimes I wonder what it’ll be like to come home to her instead of parting ways when we get home at the same time. I think about cooking meals for her and going on dates instead of working late. I think about falling asleep next to her instead of being alone. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if my parents never forced me to study finance. Maybe Y/N and I could have a chance.” 

“Or, maybe you would’ve never met her at all,” Jay says. “Maybe you would’ve never met us.” 

“In another life, I’d own a coffee shop and my biggest worry would be somebody making a scene.” Sunghoon laughs. “I could deal with that.” 

“Do we get free coffee for life?” Jake asks, pointing between himself and Jay. “I think bitching in dive bars all these years together means we deserve free coffee.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Sunghoon teases. “But seriously, I think…I’m so tired of my life right now because I’m unhappy. There’s no excitement. There’s nothing to keep me going. Work doesn’t fulfill me and I hate it when my boss asks me to stay late. But if I quit my job, I don’t know what I’d do. My parents would disown me if I abandoned their plans for me. 

“And you know, I feel so fucking selfish talking like this when there are so many people in Korea who don’t have what I have because they don’t have the means to work. I feel so guilty thinking like this when people go hungry every day because they can’t afford to eat. What kind of person does that make me? I can handle bad days so long as there’s a roof over my head.” 

“Sure, but you can’t control the way you feel and your upbringing doesn’t make you a bad person,” Jay assures. “You can acknowledge that you’ve had it good in life but that doesn’t mean your struggles aren’t any less valid.” 

“Yeah, and beating yourself up over it is only making you more upset. You deserve to be happy, Sunghoon. Don’t forget that.” 

“Thanks, guys. I guess I’ve avoided saying how unhappy I am out loud. Sometimes it feels too much because I don’t have a second to myself. When I get home, I sleep and then the next day comes. I dread closing my eyes because that means I have to work the next day.”

“One step at a time,” Jay says. “We’ll be there with you until you figure out what to do next.” 

“You guys mean the world to me. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake says, hiding his blush. “We know.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Another week goes by and Sunghoon is disappointed because not once did he run into you. 

He doesn’t know if the universe has it against him or what it is about his conversation with his friends that has left him feeling so empty these past few days. Leaving the bar with alcohol and hope in his system had Sunghoon feeling like he was on top of the world and that everything would fall into place if he willed it enough. But upon coming home on Monday evening and the nights after that, he didn’t see you at your door. 

Sunghoon wonders if his life was always supposed to be like this–stagnant to the point where he feels numb, like he's supposed to be a cog in the machine until the day he retires. Even then, Sunghoon wonders if he’ll be happy when he’s finally able to stop being miserable. His greatest fear is looking back at his life and seeing a plethora of unhappy moments instead of achieving what he wanted for himself. He’s afraid of taking his last breath, regretting the relationships he let fall through the cracks and not choosing a life that he wanted to live in favor of making his parents happy. 

He wonders if there’s more to his life than feeling alone all the time. He wonders if he’ll regret marrying the person he spends the rest of his life with if he continues down this path, so aggravated by his mother’s inquiries about his love life that he’ll ask the first girl who shows interest in him to marry him. Sunghoon doesn’t know when he’ll stop feeling like an empty shell of a human being and he can’t remember the last time he was truly happy. 

Everyday, Sunghoon feels like he’s on autopilot. It feels as though someone else has taken control of his life and he’s completing the orders of somebody else against his will. It’s hard to push back against his norm when he’s got nobody to stand behind him. Knowing his parents would be disappointed in him if he abandoned the life he worked hard for is enough for Sunghoon to remain afraid of changing anything. 

He’s snapped out of his daydreams when he hears you come home. This is the first time that you’ve arrived later than he has, to his knowledge, and he wonders if you’ve had dinner. It’s a Friday night and he thinks about if you’ve got any plans for later in the evening. 

Sunghoon stares at the television screen and lets the colorful animation fly right over his head as he contemplates his next move. He’s itching to invite you over with all of the unopened bottles of soju he has in his fridge, thanks to Jake buying a case for him at the start of the week. All of the thoughts about how his life feels desolate is enough to convince him that he might have enough courage to invite you over for drinks. 

Without thinking too much about it, Sunghoon stands from his spot on the couch and grabs two bottles from his fridge. He pays no mind to the cold sensation against his palms, nor does he care that he’s walking in the hallway in his pajamas and slippers. Sunghoon shoves down any nervousness as he knocks on your doors and figures he has nothing to lose, even if you reject him. He hears your feet shuffling behind the door before you open it. 

“Sunghoon?” you say with an uptick in your voice. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat. Sunghoon holds up the soju bottles, where the condensation has begun running down the side of the glass and onto his fingers. “I, uh, have a few bottles because a friend bought them for me and don’t want to drink them by myself. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have a drink with me.” 

You peer up at him and Sunghoon feels like you’re inspecting him. He avoids running back to his apartment despite his mind telling him to hide. It’s at this moment that Sunghoon realizes he’s putting his heart on his sleeve.

“I’d love to,” you agree. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes? I want to change into something more comfortable.” Sunghoon looks at your attire and you’re still dressed like you’ve just come back from work.

“Yes,” he nods. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Just knock on my door when you’re ready.” 

You give him a smile that makes him feel like his heart might burst right out of his chest. 

He anxiously waits for you and pulls out his speaker, connecting his phone to play at an appropriate volume. Sunghoon sifts through his playlists until he lands on one that he’s satisfied with and pockets his phone, anxiously pacing around the living room until he hears you knock. 

“You look cozy,” he comments, seeing your pajama pants and a sweater that looks a bit too oversized on your body. Sunghoon tries his best to keep himself from making you uncomfortable and steps aside to let you in. 

“I hope it’s okay that I brought my own slippers.” He looks down to see your purple ones. “I felt kind of weird putting my shoes on when you’re only a few steps away from me.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Sunghoon brings out two shot glasses from his cabinets and sets them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

You sit politely on the couch while Sunghoon opens a bottle of peach soju and pours a shot in both glasses. He’s slightly buzzed from previously drinking alone and chuckles when he sees your leg crossed over the other, handing one of the glasses to you. His usual, awkward demeanor is relinquished with the alcohol in his system already. 

“Here, I think you’ll need a shot or two to loosen up.” You laugh when you hear the glass clink against his before drinking. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “This?” 

“Drink,” you clarify. “And get to know somebody completely off the bat.” 

“Well, I’d say we’re pretty acquainted.” Sunghoon pours another shot for himself and beckons you to bring yours over. “We’ve been neighbors for a few months and we know each other’s names. I think we know each other pretty well.” 

“Your definition of knowing someone well is different from mine. But maybe I’ll need to take a page or two out of your book.” The two of you clink glasses and drink together. 

“You know, I was a little nervous about asking you to hang out,” Sunghoon confesses, sitting on the couch with a respectable distance between the two of you. “You’re the only neighbor I see regularly. It’s nice to see a familiar face from time to time.” 

You take the bottle from Sunghoon. “I think you might be the only person I’ve spoken to, really. Well, except for the doorman.” 

“Love that guy.” Sunghoon lets you pour liquid into his shot glass and the two of you take another shot together. 

“I don’t feel like I’ve gotten to know a lot of the people here. But it’s a big building and so much is always happening. I feel like I’m playing catch up every time people greet me when we’re in the elevator together.” 

“You get used to it. There are people from all walks of life who live here and sometimes it’s hard to remember who’s who.” 

“I moved in a few months ago, as you know, and I feel like I’m just barely starting to get to know the neighborhood. Do you know Mrs. Kang from 31B? Apparently, her grandson owns a noodle shop just two blocks from here and she swears it’s a neighborhood staple.” 

“It’s a small hole in the wall that gets the job done,” Sunghoon nods. “It’s pretty good but they close so early.” 

You frown. “That’s a shame.” 

“What do you do for work, if you don’t mind me asking? We run into each other at the same time most of the week so I figured you might have a night job, or something.” 

“I work as security at the Seoul Metropolitan Library and I usually cover the night shifts because people rarely volunteer for them.” 

Sunghoon pours more soju in the glasses. “Oh, really? That’s pretty cool. Do you like working there?” 

“It’s a comfortable job that pays decently well. It isn’t the most exciting job but it’s a means to an end, you know?” 

Sunghoon immediately drinks his shot. “I know it all too well.” 

You follow suit. “Is your job really that bad?” 

“I don’t want to bore you with the details, or anything. I invited you over because I thought we could be friends.” 

You look at him, amused. “Sunghoon, it’s a Friday night and we’re both staying indoors to drink. This is the perfect time to bitch and moan about your job.” 

“Well, shit. In that case, I think we’ll need to finish this bottle off and get another two.” 

He leaves you on the couch when the two of you finish the bottle and brings out two more, along with some dry snacks he found in his kitchen. He brings them over on a stray to avoid cleaning a mess while he’s inebriated and sets it on the table in front of you. By now, you’ve taken the liberty to sink to the floor and rest your back on the couch. Sunghoon hides behind a grin at the notion that you might already be comfortable around him. 

“Alright, I’ll need to be significantly more drunk to talk about work. You absolutely don’t have to drink more if you don’t want to.” 

“Don’t be silly,” you say, grabbing the bottle from him before pouring yourself another shot. “It’s no fun to drink alone.” Sunghoon’s cheeks burn as he watches you swallow the liquid, forcing himself to focus on anything but you to avoid choking on his own spit. 

Sunghoon’s mind is already hazy from the head start he had but he can’t deny that you look like the epitome of comfort in your oversized hoodie and pajama pants. He wonders if this is what you must look like when you get home from work and if you’re somebody who likes to sleep with the blankets tucked just underneath your chin. He wills himself to stop daydreaming when he hears you put the glass on the table. 

“My job is soul-sucking,” Sunghoon begins. “Everyday is the same and I sit in my office contemplating on jumping out of my window if that means I stop being so miserable every time I open my eyes.” 

“You work in finance, right?”

He nods, touched that you remembered. “I do. To sum it up, my job is basically to tell people whether or not they’re spending their money wisely to make a profit. It’s a greedy, immoral business that makes everybody miserable. Yet, everyone keeps a straight face and pretends to be happy by gloating about how much money they have or what liquid assets are in their possession.”

“Sounds tough.” 

“I’m pretty good with numbers and my dad works in finance, too. I guess it runs in my blood.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I know. But he’s set some pretty high expectations for me that seem pretty unattainable and it feels like the only way I can make him proud is by staying at this job and climbing the ranks until I become somebody’s boss. 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m living somebody’s else’s life and I’m watching from the backseat. Most days make me feel like my life runs on a loop because I experience the same kind of dread every time I wake up and get ready for work. I can’t enjoy coming home because I stay later than what’s expected of me and barely get a wink of sleep before I do it all over again.”

“I can understand that to a degree,” you say. Sunghoon watches as you fidget with the strings on your sweater. “Living for somebody else feels bleak when every day feels the same. It’s like there’s no beginning or end.” 

He nods enthusiastically. “There’s no purpose in my life right now. I don’t care about our clients or that the rich are getting richer. They could give their money away to people who actually need it but don’t.” 

“People who have power are greedy and that’s true no matter where you go. It doesn’t matter if it’s money or influence, politics or connections, it’s always the same.” 

“I come from money too,” he admits, pouring himself another shot. Sunghoon stares at the liquid until it settles within the small glass and sighs. “My dad made a fortune in the economic boom just after he married my mom. He understands the struggle, to a degree, but I think he lost a lot of it when his career took off. 

“I grew up in a gated community and never had to think twice about asking for anything because I knew I’d always get it. I was so spoiled as a kid and was always told to be grateful for what I have because not many people could say the same.” Sunghoon laughs incredulously. “God, I sound like a dipshit.” 

“Maybe just a little.” The way you smile at him makes Sunghoon feel like his stomach is performing backflips. 

“I realized a lot of people weren’t like me when I got to university. My best friends had part-time jobs to afford tuition while I didn’t have to. How fucked up is that? I realized the majority of the world works so hard for virtually nothing while people like me sit on power and do horrible things with it. The company I work for glorifies these kinds of people and it pains me to see who gets taken advantage of in the name of making a sale. 

“I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, or anything,” Sunghoon says, looking at you. “Although, I’m pretty drunk at this point and can’t seem to shut up.” You pour yourself another shot and nudge your glass against his. 

“The world might be a messed up place but that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up for it. Sometimes you need to follow what you’re told just to survive.” 

“So we both know what it’s like to work in a corporate hell hole, huh?” Sunghoon asks. He chugs his shot and you follow suit. 

“Something like that, yeah. In my experience, putting your head down can only last for so long. Being in that kind of environment makes a person feel like I’m a pawn in someone else’s game and I can’t speak up for myself without repercussions.” 

“You fucking get it,” Sunghoon muses. He slaps his thighs like it’s a revelation. “I don’t have many friends other than the two guys I met in university because this job has cut into every part of my life. My colleagues are all people who care a little too much about their jobs and make it a mission to see who can yield the highest profit margin for clients across the board. It’s depressing, really.” 

“Money makes people do crazy things. People forget their morals if that means they get a big payout.” 

“I feel like I’m the only person at the company who feels like this. Everybody brags about their work. My boss always tells me I’m doing it right by keeping my success stories to myself but he doesn’t get that I feel ashamed to be doing the work that I do.” 

You nod slowly. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on the way you shift your gaze to look at the coffee table in front of you and the way your mouth parts slightly ajar like you’re about to say something. He waits patiently for you, but you don’t say anything. 

“Anyway, sorry for the rant,” he apologies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to talk that long.” 

“You didn’t. You just made me think a lot about my life. I hadn’t realized that I felt the same.” Sunghoon gestures his hand, beckoning for you to continue. “Ah, my life is filled with chaos. Most days, I don’t know when to quit or when I'll be able to live a peaceful life. It feels right to hope for the best but expect the worst and I’ve grown quite tired of waiting on someone to rescue me.” 

“I’m sorry you feel this way too.” 

“Thank you. I didn’t know my parents growing up and I lived far from the city life up until I was sixteen. I feel like I pretend to be somebody I’m not to keep my sanity intact on most days. It’s almost like I’ll combust if I face the truth.” 

“Makes you feel like a machine, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah. It feels like I have no personality and that my opinion doesn’t matter.” 

“My colleagues make me feel like I have no voice, either. If I don’t follow the rules the way it’s written to get a job done, then I fail, even if I secure success for my client. Do you ever feel like that?” 

Sunghoon watches you nod with a tired laugh. “All the time. Individuality doesn’t matter if you’re doing something to serve the purpose of the ‘greater’ good. What matters is if everyone acts accordingly.” 

“It’s a fucked up world we live in, Y/N, let me tell you that.” 

“I guess I’m starting to realize just how unhappy I’ve been lately. Sometimes it feels like I’m not meant to amount to anything if it’s not to make other people happy by overextending myself.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sunghoon says, knocking his knee with yours. “I’m sure you’re amazing.” He watches you bite your lip to keep from smiling. 

“I bet you’re amazing too, Sunghoon.” 

“I don’t want to be somebody who follows orders all the time, especially when I don’t believe in them. My boss is somebody who has no values as long as money comes pouring in. He gave me a box of documents to process a few months ago. It had a thumb drive with digital records but none of them made any sense because it didn’t match the payroll for anyone in the company. I tried to look into it on my own but nothing on that drive made any sense when I compared it to financial records we keep for transparency purposes.” 

Sunghoon watches your eyes snap to him. “Financial records?” 

He nods. “All the names were people who worked for the company but none of the paystubs matched what we keep on file. I think he must’ve given it to me by accident because he came back a week later and asked to look at the box.”

“What happened next?” 

“Something felt off about these records so I took a spare thumb drive from the office supply room and put it in that box.” 

“What did you do with the actual thumb drive?” 

Sunghoon purses his lips. “It’s in my bedroom. I haven’t looked at it since that day because I’m worried that the higher-ups will trace company property back to my personal laptop. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I probably should’ve given it back to my boss, but my gut was telling me something was wrong.” 

You look at him with curiosity and Sunghoon can’t fathom why you must be interested. He’s even more perplexed when he sees you sitting like you haven’t taken a sip of alcohol on an empty stomach, body planted to the ground. He’s impressed with how you aren’t rocking from side to side like he is. His body feels like it’s fidgeting where he sits and he feels his head spinning with the growing silence between the both of you. You must have a high alcohol tolerance. 

“Well anyway,” Sunghoon says while clearing his throat, attempting to dissolve the tension. “I don’t think I’ll be in trouble if no one notices it’s missing. I’ll probably forget about it tomorrow morning or fess up and give it to my boss when I go into work next week.” 

“You should probably keep it a secret until you’re ready to provide evidence.” 

He tilts his head and looks at you. “Yeah…You’re right. I’ve never told anyone this before. It’s been a secret I’ve kept for so long but I can’t trust anyone.” 

“And you feel like you can trust me?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “You seem loyal. That, and I’m really drunk.” 

“I don’t know about you, but my head feels like it’s spinning.”

“Y/N, you look completely sober right now.” 

You laugh, the kind of laughter that comes from deep within until it bounces against Sunghoon’s walls until you’re covering your mouth with embarrassment. He wouldn’t mind hearing that again. 

“Believe me, I’m pretty drunk. I just conceal it well.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sunghoon teases. “I thought I was drinking alone.” 

You shake your head. “If you need a drinking buddy any time soon, you know where I live.”

“Yeah? You’d be down to do this again?” He watches you tilt your head with a smile he can’t quite decipher, but it hits him right in the chest and the alcohol in his body starts to make his neck feel warm. 

“I would love that,” you say. “I can bring the alcohol next time.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Things are going well. Too well. Sunghoon can see the sun’s departure as he makes his exit from his office and down to the lobby, where the sky is turning a shade of purple. The car ride home is even more beautiful, so much so that Sunghoon doesn’t mind getting stuck in a spot of traffic on his way home. For the first time in a while, he’s had a good work day.

He thinks back to the night you were in his apartment and the excitement of a budding crush comes back to him all over again. Through his own glossy, alcohol-fueled eyes, he swears you might’ve been flirting with him when you suggested spending time with him in his apartment again. Sunghoon wonders if he’s your every waking thought like you are to him. He then wonders if he should’ve asked for your phone number before you said goodnight and retreated to your apartment. 

Despite this thought, Sunghoon reckons that he’s buzzing from the excitement of getting off of work early. There’s still time for him to engage in whatever he wants to do to unwind after work. He plans on taking extra time to cook himself a big dinner and maybe catch an episode or two of the anime he’s been meaning to finish. When he’s sure you’re back in your apartment, Sunghoon considers asking if you’d be up to hanging out.

He grips his briefcase as he steps into the elevator on his way up to his apartment with a hop in his step. Sunghoon loosens his tie around his neck with his free hand and pushes his clear specks up the bridge of his nose as the elevator door opens. It’s only when he’s about to fish for his keys does he notice your apartment door slightly ajar. 

Your lights are turned off. Sunghoon’s arm is still in his pocket as he reaches for his keys and the metal grows warmer as he holds it in his palm. He stands before his own door, a feeling of uncertainty ringing in his ears as he beholds the unusual sight before him. For the months that you’ve lived next to him, you have never been careless enough to leave your apartment unlocked and available to anyone who might be curious enough to enter. Your door being unlocked makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

But Sunghoon tries to rationalize with himself. You could be in your apartment with the assumption that you closed your door when you didn’t. Maybe you were in too much of a rush to get to work and didn’t take the time to close your door properly. Surely even an astute and organized person could slip up from time to time, right? 

Or, maybe something is terribly wrong. Maybe you’re in need of help and can’t reach your phone. Sunghoon’s mind runs through a million scenarios, none of which make him feel any better about knowing your door is unlocked. He can partially see inside of it but he can’t see anything else inside. Sunghoon can’t see nor hear you moving in your apartment. Something must be wrong.

Fighting the comfort to dismiss it and retreat back into his apartment, Sunghoon grips his briefcase and shoves his keys back into the depths of his pocket. He takes a careful step forward and feels his balance faltering, wondering if you really did forget to lock the door on your way to work. Still, he thinks it’s better to check if you’re okay before closing your door and telling you about it when you come home. Slowly, Sunghoon uses his free hand to open the door slightly. He pushes his head in and takes a look around but sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Y/N?” he calls out, opening the door enough to let his body through. “Are you in here?” 

Sunghoon talks into your apartment and peers around the corner by the hallway when he feels arms around his neck. 

His life flashes before his eyes when he realizes he isn’t alone. The arms around his body feel far too big and muscular to be yours. Sunghoon tries to hit the stranger with his briefcase, but the angle falters and causes him to drop it onto the floor. He grips the assailant’s arm with his fingers in an attempt to pry them off of him until his own fingers feel close to numb. Sunghoon’s attempts prove futile, however, as the strength of the man overpowers him. He feels his breath constrict while his feet shuffle against the hardwood floor, his own voice sputtering out coughs and nonsensical phrases to get the assailant to let him go. 

A force makes it so both he and the attacker stumble forward. Sunghoon falls to the ground as he coughs to regain his breath now that he’s free from the chokehold he was put in, the sound of violent gasps seeping in the air amongst the chaos behind him. As he coughs, he looks beside him and sees you land a punch to his face. 

You’ve managed to close the door as you dodge the stranger’s attempts to hit and kick your body. You move expertly like you’re dancing at the same frequency, anticipating the assailant’s next move like it’s nothing. It looks like a choreographed sequence with the way you’re maneuvering to block yourself from getting hit while landing punches to the assailant’s chest until you’ve hit a sore spot, kicking the popliteal to make him surrender. 

You waste no time and place the stranger’s neck between your arms. Sunghoon watches as he tries to push you off of him to no avail. He thrashes and pulls at your arm but you don’t relent, choosing to wrap your legs around his back when he stands in an attempt to rid you from his body. Sunghoon moves to where the two of you aren’t to stay from the action. 

Eventually, the assailant manages to back you into a wall until you shout in pain. The small distraction allows the stranger to pull away from your grasp and run towards your window, bracing himself before breaking the glass and making a run for it. 

It’s over as quickly as it began. The sound of glass shattering rings in Sunghoon’s mind as he stares at the shards littered around your floor. He rushes next to you when he notices you walking towards him. Sunghoon watches as you peer out of the window and hastily grabs onto your arm to prevent you from following the assailant out of the window. 

“Are you okay?” you ask when you finally look back at him. He’s got a red patch on his jaw from being knocked in the face by an elbow, but Sunghoon’s doing well with the adrenaline that’s coursing through his veins. It's you he’s worried about.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” Sunghoon lets go of your arm. “What the fuck just happened?”

You talk away from him to turn on the overhead lights to assess the damages to your face on your wall mirror by the door that managed to survive the attack. With a split crack down the middle, you stare at the faint purple bruise on your left cheekbone and the swelling of your bottom lip. Sunghoon watches you from where you stand and uses this opportunity to catch his breath. He watches as you tilt your head to look at your once-bruiseless face, now littered with scratches, and feels an ache in his chest along with confusion. 

When he looks around the room, he’s perplexed to see how empty it is. You have a single loveseat facing towards the door with your television mounted in front of it. You have a single chair and a small dining table and the walls are completely blank with no photos held up by picture frames. The open kitchen is barely functional and it seems like all you have is one of everything–one pot, one pan, one set of utensils, one plate, and one bowl–while the rest of the living room has none of your personality. 

Sunghoon questions all of it. He wonders if this is the reason you’re always in a rush to get inside when he sees you unlocking the door. He thinks back to all the times the two of you have walked together and can’t recall a single time he ever saw anything other than white walls. There’s nothing on your wall except the mirror you’re standing in front of. 

“What the hell just happened, Y/N?” 

You turn to look at him and Sunghoon feels as if you’re trying to tell him something. He’s never seen you look like this before, so hard and controlling. He’s used to your soft laughter and easy eyes, not the sharp daggers in your irises.

“There are very bad people in the world,” you tell him cryptically. “You need to learn how to be more careful with things that aren’t yours.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You turn around and look at Sunghoon, averting your eyes to the mess around you both. He follows your line of sight and hears as you curse underneath your breath. The curtains that have been pulled back flutter in the wind as it starts to pick up, and suddenly the apartment starts to feel much colder because of it. While Sunghoon is visibly panicking, he’s confused as to why you aren’t.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon, but for me to tell you that, I’m going to need you to leave with me.” 

“Leave with you?” he asks, stepping away from the glass shards. “What are you talking about? Why do we need to leave?” 

“Because of that.” You point at the broken window. “Whoever that was will come back and finish the job if you’re not careful. If you want to live, you need to do as I say.”

“Y/N, I know we’ve been neighbors for a few months, but you’re asking me to blindly trust you after someone tried to kill me.”

“He tried to kill us, actually,” you correct. “But I see your point. Don’t leave because you trust me, then. Leave because he knows who you are and where you live, and won’t hesitate to come back.”

Sunghoon gulps. “He’s gonna come back?” You tilt your head and look at him in a way that makes him believe you can sense his confusion. You don’t step closer to him with the fear that he’d attempt to pass through you to get into the safety of his apartment. Instead, you take a deep breath. 

“I’m asking you to value your life and keep living,” you say. “I saved you, Sunghoon. I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and looks away, averting his gaze to the broken window. “I can’t believe someone broke into your apartment and tried to fucking kill you. At least have the decency to act scared.” 

“I’m petrified.” Sunghoon’s eyes are back on you when he hears the upstick in your voice. “But things don’t surprise you when they happen often.” 

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind from outside and the tree branches knocking against the window frame. Sunghoon still feels like his ears are ringing and that his veins are pumping with adrenaline as he looks at you with a pained and confused expression. If you’re someone who’s had to fight men twice your size to survive, he doesn’t want to know what would happen to him if he chose to stay behind. He also doesn’t want to think about how your life likely did depend on it at one point or another. 

The crush he’s harbored for you since he first saw you move in makes this whole ordeal that much more confusing. To the untrained eye, you look incapable of jumping into a fist fight nor do you look strong enough to pry a grown man off of another person. The idea of you in his head is unlike the person he sees standing before him. To Sunghoon, you are someone who likes to walk on the slow path, letting life take you wherever it sees fit. He thinks of you as a quiet, unassuming individual who accepted that, like himself, the kind of quiet life you were living was one you’d live for the rest of your life. 

But he’s scared out of his mind when he sees the bruise setting on your face and the way your lips are swelling up. He watches you look around the room before heading into your bedroom, and he wonders what you must be looking for. 

Your bedroom is just as bare and desolate as your living space. A single twin bed faces the door and a small nightstand with an equally small lamp sits beside it. There’s a book in one of the hollow spaces and your closet area is small, tucked away behind a door mirror that serves to cover your hanging clothes. You have nothing on your wall. No photo, no artwork, nothing that could tell Sunghoon anything about you. Sunghoon gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N,” he pleads, voice cracking when he speaks. “What’s going on?” 

You just look at him. “I’m sorry, Sunghoon.” 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? What’s there anything to be sorry about? Someone broke into your apartment and then tried to kill us.” 

Your posture sinks as the weight of reality overcomes your perception. Sunghoon watches as you hold yourself back and averts his eyes when he assumes you’re about to cry to be polite. His heart lurches in his chest and he feels like he might cry too.

“I really need you to trust me.” You sound helpless and he wonders if you feel that way too. “I would never ask you to do something if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Your life is in danger, Sunghoon. I don’t want to see you die.” 

“Woo says I’m going to die?” he asks. Why should I trust you? Who the fuck are you and how do you know how to fight like that?” 

“You need to trust me because there is no one who can protect you from what you witnessed and I’m somebody who can protect you if this happens again.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“That’s the only answer I can give right now.” 

Sunghoon sighs. “You’re asking a lot of me, Y/N.” 

“Fine.” 

Sunghoon watches you pull a backpack from your closet and haphazardly throw in shirts, undergarments, and other items into it. It’s when you pull the vent cover from the wall that Sunghoon starts to panic. You pull out a large ziplock bag with stacks of cash and other items he assumes are credit cards and passports. When you pull a gun from your nightstand and push into your backpack, you look at him. 

“You can stay. But know that I will not come back should anything happen to you or the people you care about.” He doesn’t know if this is a threat or not. But his heart is beating erratically and the thought of being without your help doesn’t make him feel better. 

He doesn’t want to go. He wants to retreat back to his apartment and pretend this never happened. Sunghoon wishes he would’ve ignored that gut feeling in his stomach to check if you were okay and live his life blissfully unaware of what life you must live to attract people who are out to kill you. But thinking like this makes Sunghoon feel guilty because despite your unusual talent for warding off men twice your size and height, he would be damned if something serious happened to you. 

Even so, leaving his life behind feels unfair. The idea of leaving his friend and family behind makes his stomach churn. Will he ever be able to see his friends again? What about his mother, father, and sister? What of them? Will they have to wonder where their son is and deal with the aftermath of not knowing that Sunghoon’s gone missing, let alone why? Sunghoon can’t think of the last time he talked to his family on the phone. His poor sister, too, will have to continue growing up without a brother to protect her. 

But none of that matters if what you say is true. Even if Sunghoon chose not to follow you and remain as clueless about your life as he does now, the chance that he’ll be safe doesn’t seem like a risk worth taking. The strange man still knows where he lives and what he looks like. If what you claim is true, then this man will eventually find Sunghoon and kill him. Whatever “bad” means to you must really be bad if someone was aiming to murder you.  

“Okay,” he says with a trembling voice. “I’ll go with you.” 

“You’re making the right decision,” you explain with your arms gesturing to the space around you. “The life you have…whatever it means to you, it will never be the same. There is a very bad man who works for someone equally worse. They’ll always find you.” 

“I understand, I think.” 

“It’s a lot to ask of you. I know,” you nod. “That man knows what you look like now and will be able to find you no matter where you go.” 

“So that’s it? I just leave?” 

“Well, you’ll need to do some packing first. Do you have a backpack?” 

“I have one I travel with, yes,” Sunghoon says. 

“Good. Let me gather some things and then we’ll head to your place so you can pack.”

As you continue gathering last minute belongings, Sunghoon takes the time to comprehend just how strange this situation is. Why is your apartment so empty? It looks as if no one is supposed to live here, like this space is just temporary. It barely looks like a functioning living space. How do you entertain yourself? If you’re able to afford living in this apartment, how come you don’t have any furniture to fill the space? And what about decorations? Why don’t you have any photos of yourself, your friends, or your family hung up on the walls? 

The harder he thinks, the more his headache returns. You live in isolation to the point where he starts to question everything he knows about you. All of your belongings could fit into the backpack you’re carrying and he wonders if this familiar experience is something you’re running away from. 

Sunghoon can only stare in utter shock as you pull out a plastic bag filled with things he's only seen in movies. More passports, more cash, more credit cards, and what he assumes to be more fake driver’s licenses. Your supply seems endless. Underneath your sink contains knives stashed away in protective bags that you shove into the backpack with one tucked behind you. The way you touch these weapons without flinching scares him. 

He knows he shouldn’t be naive to find normalcy in your actions, even if you look eerily calm and composed. 

“So this is it?” Sunghoon asks when you walk past him, following you to the living room. 

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking at your broken window. He watches as you sigh before you turn all of the lights off and lock the door behind you. 

Walking into the well-lit hallway feels weird. It’s too normal. 

“What should I bring and how much of everything?” he asks after he’s let the both of you inside of his apartment.

“You’ll want to change out of your clothes and get into something more comfortable,” you say, gesturing at his work attire. “Wear comfortable running shoes. Bring as many shirts, pants, and underwear as your backpack can fit. Make sure to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, too. Bring only one jacket. You won’t need more than one. You have fifteen minutes. I’ll wait in the living room.” 

Sunghoon watches your figure disappear down the hall and gets to work immediately, changing out of his suit and into comfortable pants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t bother putting away his suit jacket and slacks. Sunghoon shoves what he assumes to be necessities into his backpack and rummages in his bathroom for things he’ll need until the two of you need to stop to buy the essentials. He feels like he’s got tunnel vision, focusing on the task at hand to prevent himself from losing his mind over the situation he’s found himself in.

But a photo on his nightstand stops him in his tracks. 

It’s a picture of his family and the first time Jay and Jake made the trip to his hometown after graduating college. They’d embarked on a road trip and spent some time in his parents’ house before the week-long adventure of exploring the nearby area before the reality of work and responsibilities sunk in. His father had Sunghoon set up a self timer photo to commemorate the bond between his friends and adulthood before his career would eventually begin in the fall. Sunghoon and his friends sat on the picnic table with their bodies facing the camera as his parents stood around him. His sister held up a peace sign next to Sunghoon. The memory feels distant.

Sunghoon puts the photo down and makes his way back to the living room eventually, forcing himself not to pick up anything that isn’t a necessity. He puts his wallet on the coffee table and you turn around to see his backpack in his hand while he witnesses you looking at the decor on his wall. 

“You have a nice apartment.” 

“Thanks.” 

You pick up his wallet. “Do you have your birth certificate on you? Maybe a passport or any other identification?” 

“Just my passport.” Sunghoon runs back into his room to grab it before handing it to you, then pointing at his computer on the couch. “And my laptop.” 

“We’ll need to bring both of those.” 

“What for?” 

You give him a look that gives him a bad feeling. “We’ll need to destroy them as soon as we can. I can’t have them finding you that easily.”

Sunghoon sighs and grabs his computer. “If it’s for the best.” 

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t necessary. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

Sunghoon thinks he hears your voice waver. Choosing to forego any more pleasantries, you allow him to lock his door before beckoning him to give you his keys. 

“I assume we need to get rid of these?” 

“You’re catching on pretty quick,” you say. “We’ll bury these somewhere far from here so no one can find them.” 

“I think the adrenaline is getting to me.” 

You look around his room. “Where’s the thumb drive that your boss gave you?” 

Sunghoon looks at you quizzically. “What?” 

“The thumb drive with financial records on it. Where is it?” 

“In my bedroom. Why are you asking about it?” 

“Bring it with you.” You push Sunghoon back to his room with a little more force than he expected. He stumbles over himself and pulls it out his desk drawer.

“Why is this so important? Why were you asking about it when you were here?” 

“There’s no time to explain right now, but we need to bring it with us and keep it safe. It’s best if I hold onto it.” He’s skeptical. You sigh when you see his expression change into something unpleasant. “Sunghoon, I’m being completely honest with you when I say both of our lives depend on what’s on that thumb drive. If this disappears or if it’s destroyed, we’re both dead.” 

He hesitates but hands you the thumb drive away. Sunghoon looks around his apartment once more, memorizing the sight of the coffee mug on the counter he neglected to wash because he was rushing and the remote that he’d thrown haphazardly on the couch the night before. All of this makes him want to cry. The thought of never returning makes him feel like throwing up.

You lead him out of the building and lock his door with the keys before pocketing them in your pants. He follows you down the stairs to avoid the elevator and assumes you’re leading him down the back route where you don’t have to run into the doorman, who will likely strike a conversation with the both of you and find it odd that you’re rushing out of the building at this hour.

“You’re scaring me with how much you know about what we need to do next,” Sunghoon comments. 

“It comes with the job description,” you explain vaguely. “I was trained to think quickly in these types of situations and what to do if someone tries to kill you in your own home.” 

“Trained?” 

Sunghoon chokes as he looks at you but you’re too busy looking elsewhere to see the shock on his face. It feels like he’s sucking in his breath before you finally turn to look at him.

“Let’s find a secure place before we talk.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you avoid taking the metro. When Sunghoon asks why, you tell him it’s best to keep yourselves from any places that are under heavy surveillance to avoid being tracked. It’s best to keep yourself out of the public eye as much as possible. 

The stillness of the night doesn’t match his erratic heartbeat as he walks through familiar streets that no longer feel like home to him. Every light post feels like there might be someone hiding behind it and every quiet neighborhood makes him feel out of place. Sunghoon wills himself to be calm like you are, but he can’t stop himself from replaying the events of earlier that night in his head.

Who are you? Why do you know so much about being on the run? What kind of life do you live that forces you to be somebody who looks over their shoulder? 

Sunghoon wonders if this is what he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life. He isn’t sure whether he can trust you the way you say he can, but he figures it would be better to take his chances with you and die trying instead of waiting for someone to come and kill him. Even if he has to leave everything he loves behind. 

The two of you don’t walk for very long. Dodging metro lines and public transportation feels like the journey takes forever, but you tell him you’ve only walked for roughly an hour and a half in dead silence. Sunghoon doesn’t dare ask a single question for the fear that you might abandon him. 

Soon after you lead him out of your shared neighborhood, Sunghoon finds himself in a small hostel just on the edge of Seoul with two twin beds across from one another and a small bathroom. He watches as you pay in cash and accept the key to the room from the desk employee without so much as a word. The space isn’t the luxury apartment he’d found himself living in for the past three years, but it’s better than sleeping with one eye open in his own bed where anything could happen. The twin mattress is decent enough but he feels like a giant when he lays down after setting aside his belongings.

You don’t unpack your bag or relax like he thinks you will. Instead, you double check to ensure the door is locked and immediately check the bathroom and living area from top to top, corner to corner. Sunghoon watches you pull a nightstand from the corner. He nearly yelps when you dare step on the small, unsteady piece of furniture. 

“What are you doing?” Sunghoon asks, sitting up on the bed. 

“Checking for any potential listening devices,” you say as you pay him no mind, hand touching the small crevice near the window sill. “I highly doubt it, but you can never be too careful.” 

“You mean bugs? Like those things from the movies?” 

You hum. “Yeah, those are the ones. I need to assess the room before we can talk freely.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think people used those in real life.” 

“People do, unfortunately. You have to look at every inch of the room from floor to ceiling. Check the lights, the phone, the back of any objects like picture frames or wall decor, even underneath the toilet seat. Anything you can reach by hand, so can they.” 

Even though Sunghoon doesn’t know the first thing about you, it feels odd to see you like this. You always look somewhere in between disheveled and put together, but the version he's staring at looks nothing like what he’s used to.

Sunghoon is a man of few words hidden behind a million thoughts. He reserves himself for people he feels comfortable around to play it safe, unleashing his loud and extroverted tendencies when he becomes well-acquainted with certain people. Despite uttering a few sentences to you throughout the time you’ve moved next door, Sunghoon has daydreamed about you plenty. 

When Sunghoon closes his eyes, he swears he can see himself asking you on a date. He can picture you saying yes and wearing an outfit that will make his jaw drop until you become bashful under his stare. He imagines getting to know you well enough that when he drops you off at your apartment door, where the two of you become too reluctant to say goodbye until the evening ends with a kiss. His favorite scenario, though, is picturing you sleeping on his chest. His pillows can only help so much.

Sunghoon can’t pinpoint just why he was so fascinated by you. With a single glance, you turned his world upside down and he thinks he’ll never feel anything like that ever again. 

Deep down, Sunghoon assumes part of his thoughts about you is because you’re a disruption in his mundane, boring life that feels like an endless loop. There was nothing for him to look forward to once his life and career became monotonous. But somehow, your honey-like voice and warm smile intrigued him. You’re an enigma he can’t quite seem to understand. It entices him to unravel who you are and what you could mean to him. 

But none of that matters now. Watching you search the perimeter of the room for listening devices is enough to pull Sunghoon’s head out of the clouds.

“Oh God,” Sunghoon exclaims in a panic, as if the thought of his reality crashes down on him all at once. “My job. What the fuck am I gonna do about my job? My boss will report me missing if I don’t show up two days in a row. Fuck, what do I do?” 

“There’s nothing you can do now,” you tell him. “Going back will only increase the risk of getting hurt. Don’t you understand that?” 

“I can’t just leave my fucking job. I’m responsible for training entry level interns. I have so many unfinished reports due at the end of the week. Fuck! What if they call the police because I haven't shown up? 

You sit next to him. “I understand this is a stressful situation, but your life can never go back to the way it was and we have to roll with the punches as they come. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be too far from Seoul for anyone to find us.” Sunghoon swears he hears a bit of melancholy in your tone. “I’m very sorry:

Somehow, he believes you. “It’s okay. It’s not technically your fault.” 

You don’t meet his eyes. 

“This room is clean, by the way. No audio or video devices.” 

“That’s probably the only good news from today.” 

“We should probably talk about the next steps,” you tell him as you rise from his bed. “We’ll need to get some rest tonight. The hardest part about survival is the first few days and mapping out where we need to go next.” 

“So where do we go?” 

Your shoulders sag. “There might be somebody who can help us. It’s a long shot…but I think if we’re able to reach Jinju in the next few days, then we might be on the right track.”

“Jinju? Why Jinjiu?”

“I have a friend there who might be willing to help us.”

“So why don’t we call them and see if we can crash in the meantime?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem.”

“I’m struggling to keep up.” With pursed lips, you sit on your own bed and face Sunghoon. He watches you tuck your legs underneath yourself until you’re sitting criss-crossed and look down at your lap where you play with your fingers.

“There are people out there who do bad things for a living,” you say. “Really bad things. Worse than whatever imagination your mind can conjure up.” 

Sunghoon’s heart palpitates. “Like what?” You look up at him. 

“Like carrying out a hit.” 

His stomach plummets. 

“Y-You mean to tell me someone was trying to kill you? What for? What sensible reason does anyone have to kill an innocent person?” 

You go back to playing with your fingers. He watches you look at him before biting your cheek and looking at the floor. “There are things in this world many people will never know. Few find out and live to tell the tale. I’m telling you this because I need you to understand me when I tell you things are getting serious, not because I’m trying to hide things from you.”

“Can you at least explain to me what the fuck is going on? Everything you say is cryptic and I know you’re not telling me the whole truth.” 

“There’s a time and place for everything. I promise I’ll tell you everything. You deserve that at the least.” 

“You owe me more than that.”

“I know, Sunghoon. Believe me, I do. But right now your adrenaline is wearing off and neither of us are thinking straight.”

“This is crazy,” he says. “I go to work and come home just to do it over again the next day. I barely have a social life and don’t go out on the weekends as much as my friends want me to. I’m just a normal guy living a normal life. Then, you showed up.”  

Ultimately, Sunghoon knows you’re right. The bright lights of the hostel are suddenly too bright in his vision and they aren’t helping his headache. The mattress he’s sitting on top of suddenly feels too uncomfortable and sharp with the metal springs and rods beneath him. His body is calming down as his breathing returns to a normal rate and his eyes begin to feel heavy. 

He looks at you and finds that you can’t meet his eye. Sunghoon immediately regrets his words and imagines what it must be like for you to carry the weight of knowing someone tried to kill you, coupled with the fact that you have to babysit somebody who has no idea how to fend for his life. Awkwardly, Sunghoon rises from his mattress and mutters about how he’s going to get ready for bed. 

He splashes cold water onto his face to calm his face from the rushing heat creeping up his neck. Sunghoon doesn’t know what to think or how to feel. His bones are starting to feel heavy and his mind is telling him to go back home and pretend everything’s fine. He wants to be wrapped up in a blanket his sister got him for Christmas watching reruns of American television he can barely understand. 

But his gut is telling him to stay with you. He can’t delude himself into thinking his life can go back to the way it was after everything that unfolded. He very well could remain looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life without someone who’s knowledgeable about this side of life. He can’t imagine leaving you without somebody to protect you, even if you seem like you can handle yourself. The least he could do is listen to your orders and follow your instructions until the both of you can live your lives without the fear of imminent danger. These thoughts haunt him as he washes his face and brushes his teeth.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he notices that you’ve changed into sleeping attire and tries to avoid looking at your bare legs when it registers that you’re wearing sleep shorts and a sweater. He feels somewhat remorseful of what could have been if the two of you get to know each other under different circumstances. You brush past him into the bathroom and he can hear the sound of the faucet running when you close the door. 

Everything seems too calm compared to the few hours he spent with you. His ears are no longer ringing and his heartbeat isn’t beating as erratically as before. This is the first time that Sunghoon’s had a few minutes by himself where nothing distracts him from his thoughts. He’s too exhausted to push them away. 

Soon, the two of you are tucked in your respective beds with the moonlight from the window illuminating the shared space. It’s bright enough for Sunghoon to see your figure laying still and facing the wall. You look so meek like this and he wonders how anyone could ever hurt you. He wants to say something, to apologize or thank you for caring about him. 

“I can’t say I’m too sad about leaving my job,” he blurts out. Sunghoon’s about to chastise himself for saying something opposite of what he intended until he hears your bed creaking and looks over to see that you’ve turned to face him. 

“Why’s that?” 

Sunghoon crashes. 

“I’m not happy. I feel like I’m working for nothing and I hate the life I have. People always need me for things and I never get any recognition for the work I do to save everybody’s asses.”

“You sound like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Sunghoon stares at the ceiling. “I haven’t been happy with my life in a long time. My friends tell me I keep fooling myself into thinking I have it all because my job pays well and I live by myself. Total autonomy.”

“But your job keeps you from that freedom.” 

“Yes,” Sunghoon says, exasperated. “It feels like I’m living on someone else’s dime. Everything I do at my job is to make people happy because they tell me what to do. It doesn’t matter if I have my own principles. If it doesn’t align with the people who hire me to do my job, my voice doesn’t matter.” You don’t say anything for a moment but Sunghoon’s too caught up in his own thoughts to think about it. 

“I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud.” 

“Sometimes it takes a stranger to say what you really feel.” 

Sunghoon turns to look at you. “You were always the most unpredictable part of my day.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. You moved into the apartment next to mine and running into you a few times a week kept me on my toes. I don’t know. I guess I saw you as someone I would have potentially befriended. I could at least pretend I was coming home to talk to someone who cared.” 

“That’s…very sweet. You’re a nice person, Sunghoon.” 

He sighs. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t know when I’m gonna see my family and friends again and explain all of this, but I'm starting to get the feeling that they’ll never hear from me and they’ll never know what happened tonight.” 

“You know,” you begin, “a lot of my life was spent moving from place to place and never having anything or anyone to call home. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you to leave everything behind. For that, I truly am sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault,” Sunghoon says dryly. “Whoever tried to kill you should get a bullet to his head.” He hears you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, well that likely wouldn’t solve our problems.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think that man acted on his own accord. It’s too professional to assume he’s working alone.” 

“You’re saying he’s working with someone else?” 

“Or, he’s working for someone.” 

Sunghoon gulps. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The price of freedom is high. Remember that.” 

“You know, none of this explains how you know what you’re doing. If you know, for that matter.” 

He doesn’t hear you move for a short while and closes his eyes shut. Once again, he’s found himself slipping up and saying things that don't translate well. Too afraid to speak, Sunghoon considers sleeping and dealing with his actions in the morning. 

“I know what I’m doing because I’ve done it before,” you say through the darkness. “When your whole life revolves around survival, you adapt to the best of your ability and do anything to stay alive. I’ve learned a few things from my time on the run so please know that I know what I’m doing.”

“Who are you?” 

The room is silent. 

“Someone you can trust.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Sunghoon’s surprised when you wake him up as the sun rises to vacate the premises. He gets dressed as quickly as he can and he knows you can hear him yawning as he prepares himself for the day ahead of him. After freshening up and a quick breakfast consisting of leftovers from yesterday’s convenience store run, the two of you return the hostel key and leave as quickly as you came.

Sunghoon watches as you destroy his phone and laptop, which ultimately makes his soul wince at his personal items deemed unworthy and unsafe. It makes him feel like this new lifestyle is set in stone and the physical burial of his worldly possessions feels like he’s burying his normalcy and trading it in for life on the run. You bury it in a plot of land somewhere and let him mourn before he’s ready to pack it up and leave. 

The two of you travel on foot again, stopping by another convenience store to grab more water and food for later. The sun isn’t as warm as it was the day prior and Sunghoon’s grateful that he doesn't have to walk under the sweltering heat with all he’s carrying on his shoulders. He doesn’t know where the two of you are headed and prevents himself from asking more unnecessary questions because he’s met with a wall whenever he speaks about the next steps. In the hours he spends with you, he realizes that you barely know what’s to come.

Eventually, the two of you have found refuge at another hostel, miles away from the first one. Sunghoon doesn’t understand the method to your madness. He’s tried to make small conversation and ask you about your expertise, but you shut him down every time. You keep saying that “now” isn’t the right time to explain things to him because you’re too wrapped up in making sure you both manage to live until the next day. He’s starting to think you're not the person he once imagined you to be.

Sunghoon tries his hand at scaling the hostel for any listening devices at your suggestion. He follows you and watches as you inspect the bathroom–behind the toilet bowl, inside of it, in the shower drain, and behind the medicine cabinet–before he takes a stab at the living area. He feels awkward when you watch him but follows your pointers when you notice that he neglected a few spots. 

One thing he realizes about being on the run is that sometimes, it’s very slow and extremely boring. With no phone or laptop to keep himself company, Sunghoon wishes he remembered to pack a book or two before leaving his apartment for good.

Realistically, you tell him it’s better to get as far away from the origin point as possible in the shortest amount of time. To pass the time, Sunghoon asks you questions he thinks are silly, ones that he’s seen movie characters from spy thrillers ask their partners. 

Can we call anyone for help? No. 

How about taking the bus instead of walking? No. 

Is there anyone who can help us get into another country safely and quickly? Probably not.

It seems like you’ve been leaving Sunghoon with more questions than answers. You leave him in the dark, pondering on his own as you try to come up with a plan and he does his best to be patient with you because he can’t imagine having to care for someone who has no idea how to keep himself alive. Sunghoon daydreams about who you must’ve been in order for someone to attempt to kill you when the two of you are traveling. It keeps him occupied and what prevents him from complaining about walking too much. 

Sunghoon pictures you as someone who knows a little too much. Perhaps you stumbled upon a classified piece of information or made a shady deal with bad people in your past life and moved to Seoul to escape. Maybe that’s why you know so much about being on the run. 

He also thinks you might be some sort of spy dabbling in espionage, and the man who assaulted you is someone who works for your arch nemesis. This idea seems silly because it reminds him of a k-drama his sister used to obsess over but he can’t lie when he thinks about how this theory might be the only one that makes sense. 

Even so, Sunghoon comes to the realization that you are truly, utterly alone. 

He wonders if you have any friends or family that you had to leave behind. You know so much about him because he’s been open about his feelings after the startling realization that his life is something he will never return to. But you’ve kept quiet about who you are up until the point where you moved into the apartment next to his. So caught up in his own miseries, Sunghoon neglected to consider that you would have to leave people behind as well. Do you have loved ones in Seoul? Do you get drinks with your colleagues after work? Is there anyone who would notice you missing? 

He falls asleep with these questions ruminating in his own head. 

The next time Sunghoon opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to find you already packing. Like clockwork, the two of you set out on foot again and walk for miles under the sun until you’re farther away from Seoul. There’s a small noodle shop by the newest hostel and he’s more than shocked when you ask if he’s up for eating dinner there. 

The two of you wear masks and a cap to conceal your identities to the best of your abilities. Sunghoon lets you pay for the noodles upon realizing his own wallet is buried in a plot of land somewhere. The money you have was a stash for a rainy day and he’s wondering when it’ll run out. 

“It’s crazy that you think about this stuff,” he says as the waitress hands off his noodles. “I still don’t understand why you insisted on picking this table.” You nudge your head to the window. 

“Being visible from the outside means bad business. Anyone can see in the window and spot you if the lighting is good enough. I chose this table because it’s concealed the most and closest to the door in case we need to make a run for it.” 

“So what, do we just leave without paying if someone comes in and tries to kill us?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” 

“That’s so unethical,” Sunghoon huffs in disbelief.

You laugh into your spoon. “Well that’s the life we have to live now. You learn to put aside your conscience and morals when trying to survive. Neglecting to pay for a meal is a small act of ungratefulness compared to saving your own life.” 

“I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve had to do that.” 

He watches you lament. “I’ve been living like this for a long time, Sunghoon. That's all I know. I can’t afford to think about the what ifs because the future happens quicker than you expect it to. Knowing I get to sleep at the end of the day is the goal, but then I have to worry about what’ll happen when I open my eyes.

“Becoming your neighbor was my first taste of normalcy, in a sense. I still slept with a gun under my pillow and kept my door bolted shut with a cane underneath the handle. Every room in my apartment had a weapon in it should I ever need it.” 

Sunghoon winces. “I’m sorry it came to that.” 

“Me too,” you say, sipping from your spoon. “But that’s my life.” 

“If you hate it so much, why did you choose it?”

You look at him. “I didn’t.” 

“I assume this is a story for another time.” 

“You’re assuming correctly.” 

Sunghoon watches you slurp on your noodles. The soup is splashing inside the bowl and the steam is burning your tongue but you push through it, forcing yourself to chew and suck cool air into your mouth. You seem normal like this and Sunghoon’s heart softens when he thinks about what life would be like if the two of you weren’t on the run. 

“Tell me about yourself.” 

Sunghoon’s taken aback by your sudden question. “Myself?” 

You nod. “Who are you, Sunghoon?” 

It’s a loaded question and one he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. You’ve seldom made conversation in the couple of days since you two have been together, only asking him about the necessary things as they come up. Sunghoon’s the one who initiates small talk and shares what he’s thinking with you when the conversation falls flat. He’s learned to be okay with your silence. 

Hearing you ask him such a question sends him into deep thought. For a moment, Sunghoon imagines that the two of you are on a first date. He pretends you both agree to forego the fanciness of a five-star restaurant in favor of dressing comfortably and having no expectations other than good food and good company. 

You look so innocent in this light, so far removed from a world of danger that Sunghoon nearly deludes himself into thinking this fantasy of his is real. Your cheeks are full of noodles and your body is hunched over the bowl like any normal person would be. He pulls himself back before he could mourn his past. 

“I don’t really know where to begin. I have two parents, a mother and father, and a younger sister. I grew up in Suwon until I moved to Seoul for university. I hate my job and I really want to open a coffee shop one day.”  

“Why a coffee shop?”

“It’s the exact opposite of my life right now,” Sunghoon explains. “I won’t hear telephones ringing or be pulled into budgetary meetings for clients every second of the day. I’ll work for myself. I won’t have to stay later than I want to and I can talk to real people who I’ll actually give a shit about.” 

“That sounds like a really nice dream.”

“I’d probably call it ‘Soul Coffee’ because maybe I’ll have a soul by then,” he says with a short laugh. “I think I’d be happy waking up to work in a place like that instead of in finance. It feels like I’m living the same day over and over again. There’s no variety in my life because everyone expects you to stay later than the typical workday. It’s a shark-eat-shark world there. I’m sick of it. I’m tired of pretending to care about our morally-grey clients. Nothing about it feels…me.”

“Listening to commands is tiring, don’t you think?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’ve read my mind. It’s like I’m a cog in a machine. I serve to benefit high society and make the rich, richer. There’s no morality in what I do. I have to look at the numbers I see pile across my desk everyday and pretend they mean nothing to me. If I start to think about how much money is being used to do ungodly things, I start to lose my mind. 

“None of my clients and colleagues seem to care about anyone but themselves. They compete with each other to see who can make it out on top the fastest without caring about who they hurt. It’s like they’ve lost their humanity.” 

“Survival of the fittest is everybody’s weakness. When the consequence of falling behind is termination, that alone can make people do things against their own will.” 

“They all seem like they’re running on autopilot, like they’re so used to it that they’re numb.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “I always thought I’d do something more creative with my life like photography, or something. I wasn’t too half bad at painting. I considered majoring in fine art but coming home for winter break was enough for me to reconsider that.”

“Why’s that?”

“My father's well connected in finance. He’s respectable and has set a lot of expectations for me. He wouldn’t hear it when I told him I wanted to be a photography major. He said it was nothing compared to having a stable job that you can depend on. It shattered my wellbeing and I knew there was no chance I could ever convince him otherwise.

“Living under your parents’ expectations is difficult. I have a younger sister who’s starting college soon and she wants to become a professional dancer. I can only imagine the conversations she must be having with our parents now. But I guess it’s all for the best, right? I have a good job that pays decently and a roof over my head. I can’t complain, really.”

“You can still mourn the life you could’ve had,” you tell him. “Just because you chose one path, that doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about a future that never was.” 

His eyes flicker to you when he hears an uptick in your voice. You look back with a melancholy gaze that's hard for Sunghoon to figure out. He watches as you divert your eyes from him when silence has passed and he thinks that’s peculiar. 

“I guess so.” 

The two of you finish your meal without a word spoken. He’s done eating just a minute quicker than you do, and patiently waits until you’ve discarded your utensils into the bowl in front of you. Sunghoon wonders if what he said must have made you uncomfortable, but the voice in his head is telling him you know more about what he’s feeling than you let on. 

With your expertise about being on the run and evading assailants, Sunghoon truly begins to wonder what your life must have been like prior to moving next to him. 

You break the silence.

“You’re a very resilient person, Sunghoon. I think your friends and family are very lucky to have you.” 

Sunghoon is speechless. 

“T-Thank you. I hope I can get to know you well enough to say nice things about you too.” 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you decide to make a trip to the only convenience store in town before heading back despite it being farther away from the current hostel. It’s dark outside and even Sunghoon is starting to feel spooked when walking through the dead of night, distant lamp posts illuminating the night sky. He can’t tell what you’re thinking either. Most times, you wear the same expression and remain stoic until it’s time to go to sleep. It’s then Sunghoon can truly see just how tired you are. He wishes he could spearhead the planning to give you some time to rest. 

He learns that you’re resilient too. You push your body to its physical maximum. You’re able to think ahead and prepare everything you need before your head hits the pillow because the next day is never promised. Sunghoon, too, starts to push himself towards his breaking point and only thinks of surviving. 

Sunghoon catches you yawning as you shuffle items into the basket. He offers to hold it for you and picks out items he’s seen you purchase before. The cashier bids you farewell once the tab has been paid. The two of you make the trek back to the hostel under dimly lit lights in the middle of nowhere when you push Sunghoon forward until his face meets the ground below him. 

Already, the sound of a bullet piercing the air interrupts the tranquil atmosphere of the environment. He looks up to see a man inside of a car aiming his gun in his direction and covers your body with his when he realizes the armed stranger is about to take another shot. Sunghoon’s heart rate quickens when the bullet casings fall to the ground beside him. You clutch onto him until you’re able to find leverage and push him off of you to a spot you deem safe enough. 

There’s a single driver; no designated person as a gunman sitting shotgun and you’re sure this is an inexperienced soldier who’s out for blood. If not for the reckless aim, then for the insults he shouts at you when the bullets hit everything but you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon reckons your body is a mixture of adrenaline and strategy from your years of experience. It’s almost as though you move on autopilot and maneuver your way to the safest vantage point. He, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. He’s frozen in his spot and his body feels heavier than it is when you try to pull him to safety. Because of this, the last bullet from the gunman’s device ricochets off of a hard surface behind you and a small fragment of it becomes lodged in your arm. 

You yell in pain and clutch yourself when the metal touches your skin. When the gunman realizes his ammo is depleted, he swerves the car until his headlights blind you. Without a moment’s notice, you grab onto Sunghoon’s sleeve and pull him along with you, running until you see a crevice that’s small enough to fit the two of you. 

You run and run, ducking behind buildings and keeping Sunghoon close to you as you take cover behind dumpsters and other large objects that could shield you from the gunman’s vehicle. Your arm is in immense pain and you can feel your blood start to trickle out of your wound and down your elbow. 

When the gunman ceases his attempts to run after the two of you, you exhale. 

You check to see if the coast is clear and slide down the hard wall behind you until you’re perched upright when you deem it safe enough. The jacket you’re wearing does nothing to shield your arm from the bullet fragment and your skin looks like a bloody massacre when you take it off. 

Sunghoon can only stare at the wound. He’s at a loss for words when he sees your face contort in pain as your head hits the brick wall behind you. The tears pricking at your eyes damage his psyche and he feels utterly helpless. 

He watches you rummage through your backpack and tear off a portion of an unused shirt and as you wrap it around your arm. The blood’s soaking through the grey fabric and it causes him to panic. You aren’t screaming the way Sunghoon wants to. It scares him half to death. 

“Direct pressure on the wound cuts off the blood supply,” you tell him with a huff. He wants to help, but the sight of your blood dripping down your arm and onto the pavement below makes his feet stay planted where they are. Sungoon watches as you pull it tight with your teeth and secure it to the best of your ability. 

“Blood,” Sunghoon stutters. “There’s so much blood. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you immediately refute. “No hospitals. Going to a medical center means I’m documented, Sunghoon. They have to take my name and identification. Maybe yours too. We can’t risk going somewhere with security feeds to avoid being caught.” 

“So what do you propose we do, then? You’re fucking bleeding because you got shot!” 

“It’s just a graze wound,” you say through your teeth. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Where do we go from here?” Sunghoon asks.

“Back to your apartment.”

“But you said it’s dangerous if we go back.”

“It’s less dangerous than going back to our hostel or finding a new one. People who see my arm are going to call the cops and going to a medical center is out of the question. I just need a safe place to fix myself.” 

Sunghoon knows better than to suggest hailing a taxi or using the metro to get back to his apartment. He pushes all morals aside when you instruct him how to hotwire a car from the street when he sees your bloody arm. When he successfully gets the engine to run, you climb into the passenger seat and he’s off retracing his steps to take him back to his apartment as best as he can. 

You try to stay awake. It hurts Sunghoon to hear you gasping in pain with your high-pitched cries when he hits a road bump. From the corner of his eye, he can see you biting your lip to keep your tears at bay as best as you cany. Your head rests against the car door as you watch the lights pass by you and he wonders what you’re thinking right now. For all of your reassurance that this is a normal part of your life, Sunghoon wishes it wasn’t. 

Eventually, Sunghoon finds his way back towards Seoul. As he approaches his former neighborhood, he can’t help but feel displaced. It’s odd to see familiar streets and department stores he frequents after making peace with the fact that he’ll likely never return. The lights that keep each billboard sign on feels foreign after spending days looking at wastelands. Sunghoon never imagined that he’d get the chance to see his old haunts. Not in this lifetime, anyway. 

It’s the dead of night and the lights surrounding the apartment are dimmer than usual. He’s grateful, in a way, because it means you two can get into the building from the back without being detected. Sunghoon leads you up the stairs, leading you by the sleeve of his jacket that he’s letting you wear. It’s soaked with your blood and you’ve had to use the fabric to prevent any more bleeding. He avoids looking at it, hating that you’re in so much pain and that you don’t even show it. 

“Hang on,” Sunghoon says when the two of you approach the door. Your face is growing weaker but he can hear voices coming from inside the room. “I hear someone inside.” 

They’re just loud enough for Sunghoon to recognize them. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “My friends are inside.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, stumbling over your feet to press your forehead against his back. “I need to get in there and fix my arm before I pass out.” 

“Okay,” he says with a final nod before pushing the door open. 

Sunghoon’s guilt and shame wash over him when he sees Jay and Jake sitting inside. They look at him with anger and disappointment flashing across their faces as they see him standing in the threshold of his doorway. They don’t comment on the spattered red blood that’s halfway dry on his sleeve. Seeing his friends look at him with such betrayal makes Sunghoon feel like the worst person in the entire world. 

“What the actual fuck,” Jake speaks, cutting the silence. “Where the fuck have you been, Sunghoon?”

“We’ve been worried sick,” Jay adds. “You’ve been gone for a week. Where the fuck were you and what happened?”

“How did you guys get in here?” Sunghoon asks quizzically. 

“You gave me your spare key.” Jay fishes it out of his pocket and throws it on the counter beside him. “For emergencies, remember? We come in here to see your apartment is a mess. I’d count this as an emergency.” 

“Guys, I can explain–”

“You fucking better!” Jake exclaims, raising his voice a notch. “We were worried sick about you! Didn’t you check your texts? Why didn’t you call us? Are you in trouble?”

“Guys—”

“Cut the shit, Sunghoon. Friends don’t do that to other people, especially when we came here and saw your bedroom. It looks like a storm blew in here.” Jay shakes his head. “What the hell happened to you?” 

Sunghoon tries to apologize amidst the chaos. “You guys, really, I’m sorry–”

“You better be fucking sorry!” Jake shouts back at Sunghoon, who has dared to inch closer to the angry man in front of him. “Sunghoon, I swear to God. We’ve been brothers since college and I’ve been by your side through everything. The least you could have fucking done was let us know that you’re okay and–” 

“All of you better shut up unless you want to deal with me passed out on the floor,” you warn, slamming a gun on the table. It makes a horrendously loud noise that startles all three of them but it’s enough to garner their attention. 

Jake’s eyes are first to see your arm. You’ve taken off Sunghoon’s jacket and discarded it on the chair beside you, revealing the blood-soaked spectacle underneath. He sputters over his words, while Jay remains frozen in his spot. 

“Sunghoon,” you speak, voice heavy with your eyes shut together. “Do you have any alcohol?” 

“I-I have vodka” Sunghoon stutters. He stumbles backwards and grabs all of the bottles he can find.

“Sunghoon,” you say again through broken words and heavy breaths, “can you please get my backpack and the medical kit sashed underneath your touch?” 

“What the fuck?!” Jay exclaims. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Sunghoon answers, putting the backpack on the table in front of you. He pulls out the kit and opens it for you. “Too much attention. We can’t afford that right now.” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Jay retorts. “She’s clearly bleeding out! Y/N needs to see a doctor to get her arm patched up. She’s bleeding all over the fucking table!” 

Jay averts his gaze from Sunghoon when he hears you fish out a needle and thread. The gauze from your kit sits atop the counter and he winces when you peel back the fabric to reveal the wound. 

“Holy shit,” Jake mutters. “How are you still alive?” 

“It’s not fatal,” you explain. “It’s a flesh wound at best. Hurts like hell, but at least the bullet fragment didn’t lodge itself inside of me.” 

“Bullet?” 

“Can you make yourself useful and get me a cup?” 

Jake moves to the kitchen, too afraid of what you’ll do if he doesn’t obey your command. The sight of your bloody arm is enough to make him equal parts sick and panicked. The three boys in front of you are silent as they watch you unpack what you need. The room smells of sweat and iron, but neither of them dare to take their eyes off of your arm. 

“Do you have any spare towels I can use?” you ask Sunghoon. He wordlessly grabs them for you.

“This is crazy,” Jake mutters. 

“It’s about to get crazier,” you mumble, patting the blood on the skin that isn’t damaged. 

“Don’t tell me–”

“Yeah,” you say, unscrewing the top to the vodka bottle and pouring yourself enough liquid to temporarily calm your nerves. The boys watch as you tilt your head back to consume the vodka. “Somebody please put my hair up.” 

“How’s this gonna work?” Jake asks as Sunghoon ties your hair for you.

“Whenever the alcohol starts to kick in, I’m going to use the vodka to disinfect this arm and clear it to the best of my ability,” you explain. “Then, I’m going to stitch myself up.”

“What the fuck.”

“I’ve been in worse situations. I’ll be fine.” 

“You…You’ve done this before?” Jake asks. 

“Too many times to count. Now, I ask that you keep quiet and do as I say unless you want me to pass out. Do you understand?” 

Jay and Jake mumble agreements under their breaths. Sunghoon only nods. 

When you feel your shoulders start to relax, that’s when you force your body upright and grab the vodka again. You’ve done this enough times but the searing pain of alcohol being poured into your wound still hurts. Everybody hears the sound of the liquid dripping onto the floor mixed with your short whimpers of suffering. 

The boys feel helpless as they stare at you cleaning yourself up without assistance. It kills them to sit so immobile as you fight your pain in front of them. Your composure starts to crumble as the alcohol cascades down your arm and everybody is shocked to see you aren’t doubling in pain.

It kills Sunghoon to sit so powerless like he did when you first convinced him to leave with you. He can barely look at the blood spilling from your arm onto his table. His friends try to look away but can’t, eyes glancing back at you every so often. Sunghoon hates seeing you in pain like this and he resents that there’s nothing he can do to help you. He decides that he should look around his apartment for any listening devices in case the assailant comes back to finish the job.

He comes back a while later after searching the entire place, overturning even the smallest piece of decor he owns. His limited experience follows him from room to room, searching for audio devices in unassuming crevices and obvious places. When he feels confident that he did a thorough job, he returns to the living room to find the blood-soaked towels on the table and Jay holding a roll of paper towels. 

“I searched my place,” Sunghoon informs. “There should be no bugs or anything.”

“Bugs?” Jake asks quizzically.

“Audio devices or anything that could be used to listen in on us. You can never be too sure.”

“Good,” you comment weakly. Jay does his best to throw away everything he can in the trash and clean up too. 

The three boys sit in silence once more. Your winces short pained breaths are the only audible sound in the room. Sunghoon looks away every time the needle pierces your skin and wonders how you’ve built up a tolerance to this type of pain. His heart aches when he thinks about you doing this alone. 

“I need to eat or else I’m going to pass out. Do you have anything?” 

“All the food in the fridge is probably rotten by now,” Sunghoon mumbles. “One of us should get some food for tonight.” 

 “I’ll go to the store across the street and get something,” Jake volunteers, his stomach churning from the sight before him.

“Take Jay with you,” he hears you instruct. “From now on, we need to stay in pairs.”

“Sure thing,’ Jay nods. 

The two of them come back in record time. Sunghoon helps you sit upright when you fail to compose yourself and tries not to think anything of it when your head leans on his body. Your mouth quivers like you’re trying to keep yourself from crying in front of him.

Sunghoon opens a few of the packaged foods that his friends had bought, setting it far from where your arm is on the table. He beckons you to open your mouth and feed you flavorful crackers and other dry foods that won’t distract you from stitching yourself up. He feels your lips touch his fingers when he feeds you and Sunghoon feels like his body is on fire. 

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry you have to see this.” 

“So this is why you’ve been gone?” Jay asks Sunghoon. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I guess now’s the best time to explain,” you say after a long beat of silence. “I owe you guys that much.” 

“That would be nice.” Sunghoon glares at his friend but you put your arm on him and shake your head. 

“Maybe we should let her concentrate so she doesn’t injure herself any more than she already is.” 

“Talking distracts me from the pain.” They sit in front of you quietly. Jay anxiously bounces his leg in his seat when you pull the needle through. 

Jake stares at your arm before looking up. “Who are you?” 

“There are a lot of bad people in this world who want to acquire power to the point of being drunk off of it, and there are bad people who carry out orders to ensure this power is transferred from one entity to another.”

“Which one are you?” Sunghoon stands from his seat when Jay looks at you with a hard expression but you shake your head. He backs down, sitting in his seat without a word. 

“The latter,” you say honestly. “I’m an independent contractor, of sorts. I’m somebody who has the physical means to push power in any direction my Command tells me to without question.” 

“Command?” 

“Command is the organization that employs me.”

“None of this makes sense, Y/N. Who are you working for? What line of work puts you in this kind of danger?” 

“I do things that get the job done,” you say, gritting your teeth as you pull a stitch taught. “I fight, steal, and harm anyone who gets in the way of a successful mission. My job is to succeed, Jay. My purpose is to win.” 

“H-Harm?” Jake chokes on his words. 

“By any means necessary.” 

“You’re not serious,” Jay comments. “None of this is real.” 

“All of it is real and it’s my life. It’s all I know and it’s what I grew up with.” 

Jake shakes his head. “All of this is so confusing to me. You’re saying that there’s an organization called ‘Command’ and you’re an independent contractor that carries out orders to complete a job. Just what kind of job do you have?”

“Do you see the state of my arm?” Jake nods. “What I do in my day to day life is serious business. My job changes everyday and there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. I do whatever is necessary to ensure that Command gains as much power and money as possible to keep a balanced order as we know it. I do bad things for bad people. Did, I should say.”

Sunghoon quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

The last stitch stings. You tie it to the best of your ability and clean the wound until you can’t bear to stand the pain anymore. The boys in front of you gawk at you.

“I used to harm people if it meant serving the greater good according to Command.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Sunghoon’s voice quivers and you cast your eyes to the table.

“I think you know.” 

“That guy who broke into your apartment and tried to strangle you to death works for Command too, doesn’t he?” 

“I assume so. I didn’t recognize him but his combat style is similar to mine. I can only assume we come from the same place.” 

“That doesn't explain why he tried to kill you.” 

You shake your head. Sunghoon watches as your eyes become wet as you pat your wound dry, throat constricting from the pain in your arm and within your heart. 

“He didn’t try to kill me. He was trying to kill you.”

“Why me?” 

You speak above a whisper.

“Because I was taking too long.” 

The gears in his head turn as he looks at you from where he sits. Sunghoon feels like the reality around him has shattered into a thousand pieces. He can't seem to stitch back together as he looks between your arm and your face. For the first time since he’s known you, you can’t look him in the eye. 

It clicks for him. 

“Me?” Sunghoon asks incredulously. “You were sent to kill me?” 

You bite your lip. “That thumb drive your boss gave you contains years worth of documented payroll. Your colleagues and investors have been diverting funds from the company into a shell bank account for decades. This portion of money is used by Command to fund our missions and carry out any necessities to ensure anybody who petrays this organization sees the end of their life.” 

“That’s fucking crazy.” Sunghoon stands from his chair and walks around the living room. He looks at you like you’ve shattered his heart, as if the pieces are scattered onto the floor before him. “You tried to kill me?” The crack in his voice brings tears to your eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to. I’ve been like this since I was thirteen and didn’t know any better. If I wanted a roof over my head and food to eat, I needed to work for it. But you, Sunghoon…You are somebody I could never hurt.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that when you lived next door to me for months, waiting for the right time to kill me? What, were you gonna murder me in my sleep?” He runs his hands over his face. “Oh god, were you going to do something to me the night you came over? Is that why you agreed to hang out with me?”

“No!” you exclaim. “You were my daydream too, Sunghoon. You were the most normal part of my life where I didn’t have to think about my fake job as a security guard or mission updates on your wellbeing. You were my friend. You were somebody I wanted to trust.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I-I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve wanted out for so long,” you plead. “I don’t want to live this life anymore. I was sent on this mission with the hopes of acquiring that thumb drive but I don’t give a shit about that anymore. I don’t care about obeying orders. I don’t care about who holds power because only the worst of the worst are the ones who run the show.”

“You’re the worst of the worst!” Sunghoon exclaims. “God, I actually let myself fall for you even though we barely knew each other. I let myself trust you when we were on the run, and now what? Are you gonna rat me out to your Command? Are you going to bring my head on a silver platter to your master?”

“I would never,” you plead, hot, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks and the side of your face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.” 

Sunghoon walks into his bedroom with his back turned to you. Jay and Jake watch as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes and wince at the pain in your arm now that the alcohol is starting to subside. 

“That’s really fucked up, Y/N,” Jake says. “You were going to murder our best friend. How did you think Sunghoon was going to react?” 

You shake your head. “My entire life is order after order. I never make decisions for myself. I don’t live for myself. You have to understand that disobeying orders means you get killed and saving Sunghoon was the biggest risk I have ever taken in my life. It’s the first choice I’ve made for me, not for Command. The person who tried to kill us probably knew I went rogue. There’s a reason why he was shooting at both of us. I’m a target too.” 

“Wait, so someone tried to kill you tonight? For real this time?”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.” 

Sunghoon walks into his bedroom with his back turned to you. Jay and Jake watch as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes and wince at the pain in your arm now that the alcohol is starting to subside. 

You nod. “It won’t stop either. They’ll come looking for me and Sunghoon. He’s somebody who saw something he shouldn’t have and I’m a rogue assassin who betrayed her people. My head is on a platter too. The last thing I want to do is see Sunghoon dead.” 

Jay sighs. “This is really hard to believe. You can’t seriously think any of us will trust you after what you just told us.” 

“You have to,” you croak. “I wouldn’t risk my life by betraying Command to save Sunghoon and bring him out of town if I wanted to see him dead.”

“You have a point. But this all seems…far fetched.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I don’t expect either of you to think positively of me or to believe in me. But I’m asking you to trust me if you want to see Sunghoon live. I can’t protect him if he doesn’t want my help.” 

“What makes you think you could protect him? Your arm is damaged and you don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

“I know people,” you tell them. “I have contacts all over the globe for doing favors and spending time in places for months at a time. And in the meantime, I have a friend who might be willing to help us start escaping Korea and find refuge where Command won’t find us.” 

“How do we know this person is trustworthy?” Jake asks. 

“We talk about this life, Heeseung and I,” you explain. “We grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were four and grew up learning how to fight hand-to-hand combat together. He’s seen me bloody and broken far too many times than I can count. You can’t trust many people in this line of business, but he’s saved me too many times for me to not trust him.” 

“This Heeseung person, is he close by?” 

“There’s an abandoned warehouse in the most southern part of Korea. Heeseung was supposed to oversee its demolition but told me he never did in the event that somebody needed refuge. As far as I know, the warehouse is still functional and he still operates from over there.” 

“So, what, are you and Sunghoon going to meet up with Heeseung and life will suddenly be fine?” 

“I don’t know.” You swallow harshly. “But I know that Heeseung is good at fixing wounds and funneling people and hiding. He is the only person I would risk my life to save and I know he’d do the same for me.” 

“You saved Sunghoon’s,” Jay comments. 

You bite your lip. “I would risk my life for him too. He was the first person that made me feel like a human being, like I didn’t have to be ashamed of my flaws or shortcomings. Everyday I imagined a life where we could be friends instead of leading the life that I do. Talking to him made me feel like I finally had the privilege of freedom. But then someone broke into the wrong apartment and involved both of us. I risked my life by saving him and now that Command likely knows I’m on the run with him, they’re out to kill us both.”

“Be honest with us. Are you willing to sacrifice your life to protect Sunghoon?” 

You meet Jay’s eye and answer him without hesitation.

“Yes.” 

“I don’t know if we can really trust you fully,” Jake stars, “but it sounds like you’re in trouble too. Killing Sunghoon now wouldn’t save your life, would it?” 

You shake your head. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.” 

Jay sighs. “Well, it’s not like you could kill any of us with a damaged arm. You should probably get some sleep and disinfect the arm. Sunghoon’s shower is just down the hallway. The towels are in the cabinet beside it.” 

They watch you stand up and bow in a ninety-degree angle despite the pressure it puts on your arm. You stand up to look at them with eyes full of sorrow and regret, the kind that has your lips trembling and eyes watering. 

“For whatever it’s worth, thank you for listening to me.” 

“Yeah, well we needed answers.” 

You let a tear fall. “I’m sorry.” 

“Answer this for me,” Jake asks. “Why did Heeseung keep the facility and what’s he using it for, really?” 

You bite your lip. “I heard through the grapevine that there have been talks about an uprising to take down Command. There are dozens of people like me, people who are tired of being ordered to kill and perform other horrendous acts against humanity. Heeseung and I often talk about abandoning our post but neither one of us had the courage to actually do it.”

“But you did.” 

“After I met Sunghoon, yeah. I’ve never lived in an apartment before. It’s always small hostels or hotels until the job is over, and then I return to base camp where everything feels like a prison. Living next to Sunghoon let me develop a routine where I deluded myself into thinking I could have a future like that someday.”

“So you just…gave up that life?” 

“I suppose so.”

“This uprising,” Jay says, “what’s it going to accomplish?” 

“If done right, then Command will be wiped out of existence. This means no paper or digital trail. All backlogs are demolished and everyone who wants to be free, will be free.”

“That’s a lot to ensure no one targets your back.” 

“There’s only one person who gives out orders,” you explain. “Everyone else are pawns who’ve been kidnapped and bred to become the type of people we are today. Nobody wants to live this lifestyle. Nobody wants to die a killer.” 

“Okay,” Jay says after a moment of silence. “But I think it’s best if you freshen up and get some sleep. 

Jake sighs when he hears the bathroom door close. 

“What are we gonna do? If Y/N hadn’t stitched herself up in front of us, I’d call bullshit and tell Hoon to move out of this building.”

“I don’t know what to feel either,” says Jay. “I don’t trust her because she just told us she was sent to kill him but you saw how well she kept herself together just now. She could’ve killed him and gotten that thumb drive whenever she wanted to.” 

“I don’t trust her either, but she said her life is on the line whether or not Sunghoon is dead. She could’ve done something to him but she hasn’t. I don’t have a good feeling about this.” 

Jay sighs for the umpteenth time. “For now, let’s just try to make sure Sunghoon and Y/N aren’t anywhere near each other tonight. I know she could probably kill us all in our sleep but we would’ve been dead by now if she didn’t trust us.” The two boys look at your gun, which is still sitting on the table. 

“You’re right,” Jake agrees. “She should take Hoon’s guest bedroom and rest up. I can’t imagine how much pain she’s in. You should probably be the one who talks to him, too. He always listens to you.” 

Jay laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stay the night just in case. Lord knows we don’t need those two killing each other.” 

Jake leaves to prepare the guest bedroom and calm his nerves away from the bloody table. Jay walks to Sunghoon’s bedroom door and raps his knuckles against the wood. 

“Hoon, open up,” Jay beckons. “It’s me.” 

It’s quiet for a moment until he hears Sunghoon’s feet shuffling behind the door. 

“If you’re going to tell me to forgive her and move on, forget it.” Jay walks into the room when Sunghoon doesn’t close the door in front of him. 

“I wasn’t going to. You have every right to feel the way you do. I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” Sunghoon bites back a snarky comment, knowing his anger isn’t redirected at Jay. 

“I feel so fucking betrayed. I feel like my life is over and there’s nothing I can do to get back the time I had. I wish I never met Y/N and I wish I never opened that stupid fucking thumb drive because then I wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“Take is easy, okay?” Jay says. “I know that’s virtually impossible given the circumstances, but there’s nothing you can do right now. Y/N’s in the shower and Jake’s preparing the guest room for her now.” 

“I want this to be over. Or better yet, I just want someone to end my misery.” 

Jay sits next to Sunghoon on his bed, knocking his shoulder against his. “Don’t say that. You’ve survived and gotten this far. It’s only fair that you see it through and make it out alive.”

“But what does that even mean?” Sunghoon asks, exasperated. “The end could be years from now. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for. I can’t stay here long or they’ll find me and murder me. I don’t even know what Y/N’s end goal is. We’ve been running for so long and I didn’t know any of her intentions until tonight.” 

“I can’t speak for her and I won’t because who she is, isn’t someone I’d want in your life,” Jay begins. “But she’s dead whether or not you are. If you die and the mission is complete, her head is still on a platter because she disobeyed her orders. 

“I’m not telling you to trust her because of who she is, but I’m telling you that it seems like she truly doesn’t want you to get hurt. She waited for months to even talk to you and never made a point to involve you in any of this before you disappeared. Y/N told us she has a contact that could potentially help the two of you with your predicament, and that’s the best that I can see for the time being. Part of me thinks she means what she says.”

“What if she’s lying?” 

“No one can be sure of that. But what I know is that it’s late and you look like you haven’t slept in ages. Take a shower once Y/N’s done and get some shut eye. Jake and I will be here when you wake up.”

“I hate that she’s using my shower,” Sunghoon grumbles. 

“What you hate is that you still like her, even after all of this.” 

Sunghoon groans. “Stop reading me. You’re a freak for always being right.” Jay laughs.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. You had us worried sick and we thought we’d never see you again.” Sunghoon opens to talk but Jay shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain anything to me after what we just went through with Y/N and her arm. Get ready for bed and then get some sleep.” 

Jay departs from Sunghoon’s bedroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He can hear the sound of their feet shuffling outside when the impending tiredness overwhelms him unexpectedly. When he’s sure you’re not occupying the bathroom, Sunghoon takes a quick shower and relishes being in his own bathroom with hot water. He lets the steam soak into his skin before drying himself off and brushing his teeth.

Sunghoon chooses to slip underneath the covers in his bedroom. You’re out cold in the guest bedroom next to his while Jay and Jake volunteered to take watching shifts. The only thing he can hear is the soft hum of the wind from outside. It feels peaceful and serene. But this tranquility makes him uncomfortable. He’s starting to understand why you work well under pressure.

As he melts underneath the covers, Sunghoon allows his heavy eyes to close shut. He dreams of nothing. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The smell of sausages brings Sunghoon out of his slumber. Being somewhat well-rested feels foreign to him as he walks out of the bathroom performing his morning routine like any other day. It feels odd to look at himself in his mirror, putting on face products that have sat untouched for a week.

Jake is frying eggs when he walks into the kitchen area while Jay is prepping the bowls and utensils. Sunghoon watches silently as the two work in tandem to prepare gyeran bap with sausage on the side. The scent makes his mouth water. 

“Morning,” Sunghoon croaks. “Is Y/N still sleeping?” 

“Last I checked,” Jay says with a nod. 

“Good. I don’t know if I can face her right now.”

“You’ll need to eventually.” 

“I know.” Sunghoon sits in a chair and slumps over the table, which is significantly cleaner than when he last saw it. “Everything feels too fresh.” 

“Y/N probably feels the same,” Jake says. “She sounds like she wants out of whatever business she finds herself in. I’m not defending her or anything, but you heard her. She grew up in this lifestyle so I can’t imagine how hard it must be to break away from something you’ve always known.”

“Still.” 

Sunghoon eats his breakfast in silence with Jay while Jake volunteers to wake you up and help you with changing your bandages. They’re done eating by the time you emerge and Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to look at you, keeping busy by playing with his fingers. He feels your eyes on him and ignores the guilt that gnaws in his chest when he pretends you aren’t there, eating your breakfast next to him.

“We need to talk about next steps,” Jake says, cutting the tension. “You two obviously can’t stay here since it’ll be a liability for your safety. Hoon, you probably can’t go to your parents’ and neither Jay or I have enough space for you guys in the long run.” 

“Y/N mentioned an abandoned warehouse that was salvaged and is fully operational,” Jay tells Sunghoon. “She knows someone there she trusts that might be able to help you two escape Korea or stay hidden long enough.”

Sunghoon huffs. “Trust. Sure.” 

“It seems like your best bet.” 

“Please Sunghoon,” you beg. “Please choose to continue living.” 

He sighs. “It’s hard to hear you, of all people, say that to me.” 

You nod. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever say anything that will make things better but being on the run is what I’m good at and this isn’t an opportunity we can pass up” 

He looks up at his friends. “So this is it, huh? I’m just…never going to see you guys again?”

Jay and Jake share a look. 

“Well…” Jake draws out, rubbing the back of his next. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re coming with you,” Jay says. 

“What?” Sunghoon says incredulously. “No you’re not. You guys can’t risk your lives just to save mine.”

“Y/N told us about this uprising,” Jay explains, “to take down Command and end this organization for good. I’d be a fool not to be part of it after knowing what they put you through.” 

“Our lives truly mean nothing if we ignore this and pretend people aren’t suffering,” says Jake. “Y/N can’t carry the burden alone.” 

He finally looks at you. “You’re going to take down Command?” 

“I’ll probably die trying, but yes. We can leave Korea but I can’t in good faith leave it here where more people die and suffer every single day.” 

“This person she knows is someone who’s all for the uprising too,” says Jake. “If your next logical step is to hide away in his warehouse until life becomes more quiet, I think we should go too.” 

“You can’t,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “You two have lives here, for God’s sake.” 

“None more than you did.” 

He looks at you. “Why are you encouraging them?” 

“I’m not,” you say. “But I know two ambitious people when I see them. If they’re willing to help me with my mission, I’d be stupid to turn them down.” 

“This is batshit. You can't just leave everything behind for me.” 

Jay smiles. “It’s what friends are for, right?” 

He knows there’s no use arguing when his friends are looking at him like they’ve already made up their minds. Sunghoon averts his eyes to see you with your arm slung on the table and then back to his friends, and sighs. 

“Welcome to the team. Let’s pray we don’t die.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve. 

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?” 

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.” 

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands. 

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue. 

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her. 

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-” 

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles. 

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for. 

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?” 

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA. 

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while. 

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.” 

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her. 

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.” 

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face. 

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.” 

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too. 

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them. 

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.” 

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them. 

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.” 

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now. 

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time. 

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them. 

Jealousy. Longing. Needing. 

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person. 

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath. 

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes. 

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.” 

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.” 

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him. 

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head. 

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I’m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat. 

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side. 

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.” 

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima. 

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’ 

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood. 

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty. 

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely. 

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor.  “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.” 

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.” 

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life. 

The Paris Opera Ballet

[siriuslovebot]

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 ➸ 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒏˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: hello my love! ik you’ve already made a couple but i was wondering if you could make another one of those mouse ones, if you’re not up for it that’s completely fine! thank you for taking the time to read this!

𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: we all need more remus x mouse!!!

𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: please write another remus lupin x mouse fluff please. i love your writing style. it's just perfect<33

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: injured reader, the nickname 'mouse', some embarrassing (possibly?) moments, nothing else i can think of??

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: after convincing the reader to go ice skating, things end up going a bit sideways for the marauders.

𝑨/𝑵: merry christmas (and happy holidays) everyone! here is a bit of a late gift for you all! i was astonished to see the amount of requests for more remus x mouse! i didn't even include all of them here. i'm sorry i've been mia for so long! this one may be a bit rusty, but i hope you all enjoy even if i am a little out of practice! (also this is unedited so if you see any typos/mistakes no you didn't)

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 3.3k 𓂃♡₊⭑

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺

“it’s bloody freezing out here,” mutters sirius, his voice gruff in the early morning air.

you roll your eyes, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. in your peripheral, you can see his mussed hair and dark circles, as well as the scowl that colours his handsome features. 

“you should’ve stayed behind if you’re going to whine, sirius,” you respond, raising your brows.

he wrinkles his nose, looking an awful lot like he’s smelled something foul. “are you mad? i’m not staying cooped up in that castle when you lot are out here having fun. where’s moony?” he looks at you expectantly.

“running late, i suppose,” you glance at your watch, a christmas gift from remus. it’s charmed, the tiny mice printed on the watch frolicking around as you get the time. your face turns pink, embarrassed although you love the little watch. you hope sirius doesn’t see. you’d never hear the end of it. 

“well, it’s half eight. earliest i’ve been up in weeks.” sirius yawns, swiping his sleeve across his face.

you roll your eyes again. you knew the lot of them would be menaces upon returning from the christmas holidays. sirius spent the two weeks of holiday break at james’s house, the two of them likely driving the potters out of their minds. the pair of them had clearly suffered from a lack of sleep, made clear by sirius’s incessant complaining about being up early. 

you wanted to spend the holidays at hogwarts, hoping that remus might convince his parents to let him do the same, with no luck. you suffered a miserable two weeks at home, your parents refusing to let you out of their sight for a second. you hardly even had time to respond to the owls sent by your friends; notably, a muggle christmas card of lily and her family, an odd photo of sirius and james wearing charmed elves’ hats, and a sweet note from remus wishing you a merry christmas and promising you a gift upon your return to school. 

thus, you are excited to spend a few hours having fun with your friends without worrying about lessons. if only you can wrestle sirius out of his grumpy mood. 

there’s a chorus of boots crunching through snow behind you, and you turn to find lily approaching. james and remus trail close behind, with marlene at the back. 

“what’s with the frown?” lily makes a face at sirius, who makes another disgruntled face.

“hasn’t got his beauty sleep,” you warn, a smile playing on your lips.

“you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” sirius says crossly.

you raise your eyebrows at him.

“simmer down, pads,” james says, bright as ever. “don’t mind him. he’s just peeved because of that detention mcgonagall gave him.”

he pats his friend on the back, accompanied only by a grumble from the long-haired boy.

“yes,” says remus, “who knew she would catch him trying to turn marie littletree’s quill into a bowtruckle?” 

“all right,” says sirius. “i get it. i’ll paint a stupid little grin on my face like prongs here. can we get on with it?” he grins at the confused half-smile on james’s face, then nudges his friend in the shoulder. 

“right,” says marlene. “lily’s got an itinerary.”

“yes,” says the redhead. “first hogsmeade weekend back, and i’ve got plans. now, the three broomsticks is going to be absolutely swimming with people.”

“it’s always swimming with people,” james chimes.

“right,” she gives him a sharp look, and he scratches his neck awkwardly. “i was thinking, we should skip the morning crowd, and have a go at ice skating.”

“ice skating!”

“ice skating?”

james and your exclamations mirror one another, as you both gawk at lily. james looks like a child on christmas morning, and you look… well, terrified. 

“oh, godric, i’m going to be so embarrassed. i can hardly walk, lils, much less skate!” you groan, feeling the exasperation sirius has been bleeding all morning. 

“c’mon, y/n!” james gives you a shake around the shoulders, looking excited. “you’ll be fine. a little arresto momentum, and you’re saved.”

“right, and which one of you is going to babysit me to keep me from face planting?” you glare at him.

“sounds like a job for moony, if y’ask me,” says sirius smugly. he’s already strutting towards the pond, james close on his heels. 

marlene grins, and lily looks at you pleadingly. “c’mon, y/n,” she begs, pouting like a child.

“it’ll be fun,” marlene adds.

you huff, not wanting to feel like a buzzkill. 

remus places a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. you sigh.

“you’ll be all right,” he urges, voice soft. 

you sigh, but concede. “fine.” 

lily and marlene cheer, taking off behind james and sirius on their way to the pond.

you frown, glancing over at remus as you fall into a slow pace following them.

“do i have to?” you wonder aloud, hooking your arm through his as you crunch through the hardened snow.

remus smiles down at you, a gentle smile finding his lips. his cheeks are pink from the cold already, his honeyed hair sticking out in tufts from beneath his knit hat. your stomach does a flip, and you have to force yourself not to look away.

“don’t tell me you’re scared, mouse,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“scared? pfft, i don’t get scared,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“oh, really?”

“really. but i know my strengths. and ice-foot coordination is not one of them. i’m preparing to embarrass the wits out of myself.” 

“it can’t possibly be that bad,” he says.

“have you met me, rem? i tripped over the air just last night.”

“i actually think that was a badly timed jinx from sirius.”

“i hope you’re joking.”

“afraid not.”

“oh, he’s got it coming.” you shake your head, remembering the burn of your cheeks as you tumbled in a heap in the common room. remus came over, smiling to himself as he helped pick up your things. you’d wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of the night.

as you approach the pond, you blink at the sight of a few other students gliding over the frozen water. you blink, not feeling confident in your abilities. you can feel your legs wobbling already, hearing the sound of yourself crashing into the ice. 

“okay,” you stop in your tracks, grabbing remus by his wrists. he faces you, eyes expectant.

“yes?” he humours you, looking as serious as you feel.

“promise you won’t laugh if i fall.”

his features crack into a smile, his head falling as he laughs softly. “c’mon, mouse,” he nudges you, draping an arm over your shoulders. he’s warm, and you lean into him as he leads you closer to the water’s edge, where your friends have already conjured up their ice skates. 

“if you laugh, i’ll never forgive you.”

“i’ll keep an eye on you,” he says, “and i promise i won’t laugh.” 

“holding you to it,” you say, joining marlene and lily by the pond.

“here,” marlene takes half a second and conjures you a pair of skates, untied on your feet. 

james and sirius are already on the ice, flitting around faster than you can keep up with. they’re a pair of blurs, their laughter ringing through the air. 

you make a face, your ears burning just at the thought of how you’re going to look trying to keep your feet beneath yourself. you don’t even notice your untied laces as you wobble towards the ice.

“just a second, mouse,” remus says softly, his large frame stooping to tie your shoes.

your face goes red as you glance down at him, feeling sheepish. “sorry,” you say, “i could have done that.”

“i’ve got it,” remus hums, his scarred hands tying your skate laces with expertise. 

he’s towering over you again in half a second, winking at you as he reaches down to grasp your hand. his skin is warm, even through both pairs of your gloves, and you feel a bit better. 

“y’alright?” remus wonders aloud, guiding you to the edge of the ice. he steps on gracefully, somehow able to keep his feet from sliding beneath him. you stare down at his skates, nervous.

you frown. “i’m scared,” you admit, face darkening with embarrassment.

“don’t be scared,” remus says. 

he tugs your hand, smiling warmly. you hate how persuasive he is; his soft voice and gentle smile have a way of turning you into a gushing mess in the palm of his hands. no one knows how to make you feel better like remus does. 

“you’ll still love me if i make a fool out of myself, right?” you wonder aloud, stepping slowly onto the ice. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, focused on keeping yourself upright. 

“i’d love you even if you made a fool out of the whole world, love.”

he’s laughing as you join him on the ice, the velvety deep sound sending butterflies rampaging through your stomach. he grasps your hand, ever so gently, and pulls you to the center of the ice, where fewer of the other students are. your classmates fly by, agile and quick on the ice. you feel somewhat like a baby deer, your legs wobbly beneath you. 

“see, not so bad, is it?” remus encourages, his features now split in a jovial grin. his tawny eyes glitter with amusement, the corners crinkled by his big smile.

“no, i guess not,” you agree, fingers still gripping the sleeve of his coat in a vice.

“d’you want to try on your own?” he inquires. his long fingers loosen their hold on your wrist, but you tighten your own around him.

“no–not yet!” you squeak, moving closer to him and throwing your arms around his middle. he laughs, his chest rumbling against your cheek. you take a deep breath.

“sorry,” he chuckles, smoothing a hand over your hair. “i’ve got you, m’little mouse.” 

you blink, peeking around his frame to see sirius and lily engaged in a race across the pond, their speeding frames silhouetted by the snowy landscape behind them. a grin spreads over your features, watching as james and marlene cheer them on. 

“i don’t know how they do it,” you muse, shaking your head.

“you’ll be racing them in no time,” remus says teasingly, slowly unraveling your death grip around him. 

“if you say so,” you murmur.

remus pulls you along gently, gaining some speed as you become more comfortable at the feeling of being on the ice. after several minutes, you’re no longer as unstable on your feet. you hardly even shriek when james charges at the pair of you at full speed, spraying you with a shower of ice as he stops at the last second.

“you git,” you hiss, sending a snowball his way with a flick of your wand.

he curses loudly, already halfway across the pond when it hits his back. lily and marlene dissolve into a fit of giggles, while remus chuckles gently. 

you don’t even notice that he isn’t holding you steady anymore. distracted, you’ve released your grasp on his sleeve, and are slowly gliding alongside him. you’re closer to the edge of the pond, your feet steady beneath you as you gather confidence. 

“feeling okay?” remus has spun around, facing you as he skates backwards.

what a showoff, you think, but you say nothing. he doesn’t know it, but you adore just how easily he picks up on the things you find to be absolutely mind-boggling. despite his insistence that he’s nothing special, he picks up on skills with ease. he’s a talented wizard, quick-witted and good at solving problems under pressure. it’s precisely why he excels in school, despite being out around each full moon and sometimes struggling to come out of his shell.

“thanks to you,” you say, flushing. “i wouldn’t be out here if it weren’t for you, you know.”

he smiles sheepishly, his wind-chapped face going a deeper shade of pink. “sure you would.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “i’m serious, rem,” you say. “thank you.”

“don’t thank me,” he says, looking more than a little embarrassed. 

you reach for him, wanting to hold his hand, but you see concern flash in his eyes. your eyes widen, but before you can say anything he’s already reaching for you.

“watch out–”

but you’ve both reacted too late. another student slams into your shoulder, knocking you off kilter. you squeal, falling to the ice too quickly for either you or remus to react. the air feels as if you’re caught in slow motion for a second; the ice is approaching your face with extreme speed, glistening in the morning sun. without thinking, you brace with one hand, the other halfway reaching towards remus. 

your arm breaks your fall, and there’s a sickening crack as you hit the ice. it’s harder than you thought. you shriek, a sickening pain rocketing up your wrist and shoulder as you finally collapse completely.

“shit,” remus hisses, crouching as you feel his hands on your shoulders, trying to help you up to a sitting position.

you’re too focused on the excruciating pain in your arm to realize that you’re crying. the tears are hot against your skin, burning your cold cheeks as you sit up. you clutch your arm with your other hand, looking at the horrible purple lump already protruding at your wrist.

“merlin,” you sob, “it’s broken!” the sight of the bone jabbing at the inside of your arm makes your stomach do a turn, and you force yourself to look away. remus crouches in front of you, his worried face swimming in your teary vision. 

you hear your friends shouting, and several nasty words directed at the student who slammed into you. you glance over, seeing marlene dragging sirius away by his scarf as he tries to throttle the poor third-year student. 

lily skates towards you, slowing as she approaches.

“oh, dear,” she says, as she sees your arm.

“it’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, glancing between remus and lily. you can’t force yourself to look back at the arm, feeling as if you’re going to faint if you have to see the bruises blooming over your arm.

“not so bad,” lily lies, offering a forced smile.

“we’ve got to get some help. you need to see madam pomfrey.” remus says. he’s crouched, one hand coming out to wipe the tears from your face. you breathe in his scent, trying to ground yourself. 

james, sirius, and marlene finally join you, sirius still cursing the student as marlene drags him over. 

“ugh,” james says as he sees your injury. 

sirius peers over remus’ shoulder, his eyes blazing with fury as he sees the extent of your injury. “i’m going to curse the bollocks off of that kid!” he hisses, reaching for his wand, tucked into his coat pocket.

“sirius, stop it!” marlene scolds. “we have to do something about that arm. there’s no way y/n’s making it back to the castle in this state.”

“i’m fine,” you insist, though your stomach is rolling unpleasantly. you think you’d likely vomit if you had to stand. 

“you’re not fine,” remus says, his voice stern. “your arm’s gone sideways. you need to be in the hospital wing.”

“we can’t move her like this,” james says, sounding as sick as you are.

“let lily have a go at it. she put my pinky right when that bludger hit it at practice,” says sirius. 

“your pinky?” remus says incredulously. “i think an arm’s a bit more important than a pinky.”

“rem,” you say, nudging him with your foot. “it’s fine. i trust lily. besides, i think i’ll be sick if we don’t do something now.”

remus sighs, his eyes dark with worry. he places a hand on your knee, shifting slightly to let lily get closer. “fine.” you can tell he’s not happy about it. 

“marlene, go get some help, will you?” you say, your head swimming. you feel closer to fainting by the minute, shock setting in.

“‘course i will.” she’s gone in a flash.

“okay,” you breathe, closing your eyes as you wait for lily to fix your arm. 

“right, then,” she pulls her want out of her pocket, leaning closer. there’s a second of silence before she says, “episkey!”

only, the spell doesn’t go quite right. a blinding hot pain blooms in your arm, and you shriek again. this time, you’re not strong enough to keep from fainting. white spots bloom behind your vision, and you collapse. 

you wake hours later, in the hospital wing. you stir, your throat dry as you turn over in the cot. your vision is blurry as you peel your eyes open, finding your arm wrapped in some kind of sling. madam pomfrey is nowhere in sight, but remus is slumped in a chair at your beside.

his eyes are closed, his breathing steady as he sits. his head rests lazily against the back of the chair. you study his face; his scars shine in the sliver of evening light that spills in from the window behind you. you groan as you move, your entire body aching.

your muscles throb, the fall having taken its toll on you. you watch him for a few minutes, the delicate rise and fall of his chest. his hair falls in golden wisps over his forehead and his ears, tickling the nape of his neck. you smile, glad he’s getting some rest. you’re sure he’s been perched in that uncomfortable chair all day. he’s probably missed all of his meals, crouched by your bed worrying.

you smile to yourself, wondering how you’ve ended up with someone so perfect. 

he stirs finally, his eyes crinkling as he yawns.

“rem,” you say softly, catching his attention as he opens his eyes.

“hey, sleepyhead,” he says, a tired smile painting his features.

you reach for him with your good hand, his long fingers reaching out and enveloping yours with ease. his skin is warm as he brings your hand to his lips, holding it there for a moment. your face heats up. embarrassed, you want to sink down into the cot and disappear, but you can’t run from him. he knows you too well.

“have you been here all day?” you wonder.

“of course,” he says, as if you’d be crazy to think otherwise. 

“you didn’t have to do that.”

“yes i did,” he says, frowning. “it’s my fault you went out there in the first place. you wouldn’t be hurt if i hadn’t convinced you to go skating.”

“hey,” you scold, “don’t say that. it’s not your fault. none of it’s your fault.”

he shakes his head, looking apologetic. you sigh, squeezing his hand.

“i’m serious, rem. i don’t blame you. i had a lot of fun, until that kid ran into me, at least.” you grin, trying to lighten the mood.

he can’t help the smile that creeps onto his features. “poor guy,” he says, “sirius wanted to hunt him down so badly. said he was willing to have detention for the rest of the year, if it meant he got his revenge.”

you roll your eyes. “what a hothead,” you laugh. 

“yeah, think the kid was pretty scared too. he send a card up, and some chocolate frogs.” remus passes you a card. you open it up, and a flock of little birds explodes from the paper, as well as a bright, sparkling message that says get well soon!

you smile, feeling much better already. you squeeze remus’s hand again, closing the card as he passes you a chocolate frog. 

“thank you,” you say in response, though both of you know you’re not just thanking him for the chocolate.

he nods in response, leaning over to press a kiss against your forehead.

tags: @delulu4marauders

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

Side 2. Rina, Rocket Puncher

Note: someone pls tell her to stop punching the phone-

This took place between Chapter 35 & 36

The Smash Room was not the type of place Y/n had expected to visit that day. The walls were covered in padding, and an impressive assortment of “smashable” items—plates, bottles, electronics—lined the shelves like some dystopian buffet. Karina stood beside him, grinning from ear to ear, holding a bat like it was the best gift she’d ever received.

“Are you… sure about this?” Y/n asked, eyeing a particularly delicate-looking lamp.

Karina rolled her eyes, thrusting a bat into his hands. “Yes, I’m sure. Trust me; you’ll thank me later.”

“But smashing things on purpose… it feels wrong,” he admitted, staring down at the bat.

Karina laughed, already cracking her knuckles in anticipation. “It’s supposed to feel wrong! That’s the point. I needed a place to blow off steam, and I thought it’d be way more fun if you came along to try it out.”

"…I don't really have anything to blow off steam, though?" Y/n questioned.

"Lies." Karina deadpanned. "You're dating Minjeong. Surely there is something you find annoying about her."

"Oi, you're trying to rat me out now?" Y/n widened his eyes.

"It's between us." Karina giggled. "…unless?"

Y/n gulped, but Karina’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Fine… let’s do this.”

-

When they finally suited up, helmets secure and armed with a stack of plates, old electronics, and an assortment of glass bottles in the centre of the room, Y/n couldn’t shake a lingering sense of hesitation. He’d been dragged here, no doubt, by Karina’s insistence that “everyone needs to smash something every once in a while.” She practically glowed with energy as she scanned the items around them, clearly fired up for what was about to go down.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” Karina asked, eyeing a nearby plate with a devilish grin. She picked it up and weighed it in her hands like a pro, already looking to him for the go-ahead.

“Uh, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied, still clutching his bat with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. “You seem a little too excited about this.”

“Oh, trust me, I am,” Karina laughed. “You don’t know how badly I’ve needed this!”

With a wild swing, she sent the first plate crashing against the wall, bits of ceramic scattering in every direction. She let out a triumphant yell, her face lighting up.

“Jeez,” Y/n said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that plate supposed to be someone in particular?”

Karina grinned, winding up for the next throw. “That one was for all the times I’ve had to work late for a last-minute meeting. And—” She smashed another plate. “—for every time I had to remind everyone to be on time, especially NINGNING!”

Y/n snorted, gripping his own plate. “Ning just use her aespa time….a bit too much, huh?”

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the stress of managing appearances and, like, fifty different social media expectations!” Karina vented, smashing another plate with gusto. “Not everything needs to be perfect, but the pressure is still there! SO DAMN ANNOYING!”

“YES!” Y/n said with feeling, setting up his own bottle to smash. He hesitated for a moment, thinking back on his recent frustrations with Winter, from her infamous ‘kiss prank’ to the slightly overwhelming reality of actually dating her…which came with some undisclosed baggage. He swung, and the bottle exploded in a satisfying burst.

“OHHH SHT! That felt good!”

From the bottom of his heart, he loved Winter, but that was liberating.

Karina, catching his thoughtful look, nudged him with a knowing smile. “That looked personal. Care to share?”

He grinned, a little sheepishly. “It’s just… Jeong. There’s so much about her that’s awesome, but dating her is a whole new experience. I mean, she’s perfect, but also impossible. She just, like, invades my space EVERYWHERE, which sounds great…"

"Uhuh" Karina was intrigued.

"…until she messes with all my stuff and stole my oreo stashes I kept for myself.”

“Oh, I get it. Minjeong does have that… selective attention to detail,” Karina laughed, setting up another bottle. “She’ll memorise every outfit in her closet but will still ‘forget’ to tell you she invited the whole group over to your place.”

Y/n laughed, nodding. “Exactly! And it’s like the more time we spend together, the more I realize she’s just as rowdy as the rest of you—if not more. But… it’s hard to stay annoyed when she gives me that look, you know?”

Karina grinned as she grabbed a plate, holding it up like it was a prized possession. “This one? This is for every time a schedule’s changed last minute, throwing off everything we’ve worked on!” She wound up, smashed it, and let out a satisfied sigh.

Y/n found himself nodding along. “You know, Jeong has this habit of casually dropping huge things at the last possible moment. Like, ‘Oh, by the way, I promised my mom I’d come by for dinner’—while we’re already on our way somewhere else.”

“Oh, she finally did that to you!” Karina laughed, taking a quick swing at another bottle, the glass shattering on impact. She turned back to him with a playful glint in her eye. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Tell me about it.” Y/n lined up another bottle and smashed it with a swing that was a little more enthusiastic than he’d intended. “I love her for how she is, but…those will kill my sanity.”

They both shared a laugh, the cathartic smashing of objects somehow loosening up more than just physical tension.

-

“Alright, Rina, use Rocket Punch!” Y/n challenged, feeling his earlier nervousness fade as he grabbed another plate and handed it to her.

"Ya, I'm not a Pokemon!" She took it, eyeing him with a mock-serious expression.

"Whatever, do it!" Y/n cheered.

“This one is for all the choreography changes we go through in the middle of a tour,” she muttered with feigned gravity, before smashing it so hard that tiny ceramic pieces ricocheted off the wall.

"Perfect shot." Y/n winced and gave a low whistle. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I think all of us need this every once in a while. You can’t keep everything bottled up without it exploding, right?”

He nodded, a grin spreading on his face. “Speaking of which, I think it’s time for the grand finale.” He held up an old radio, raising its high for dramatic effect.

“Ohhh, nice choice!” Karina cheered, standing back to give him space.

"KIM MINJEONG! STOP DOODLING ON MY FACE!"

With a loud yell, Y/n hurled the radio against the wall, bits of plastic and metal scattering everywhere as they both burst into laughter.

Breathless, Y/n leaned back against the wall, shaking his head. “Holy….I seriously didn’t think this would be so… satisfying.”

Karina nodded, grinning at him. “I knew you’d come around. It’s not just about breaking things; it’s about letting go, you know?”

He looked at her, her usual serious leader demeanour replaced with a relaxed, genuine smile. “You know, I think we all see you as this powerhouse who just handles everything. It’s easy to forget that you need to punch things.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I guess I do. It’s just… hard sometimes. When you’re the leader, there’s this pressure to always be ‘on’ and ‘perfect.’ But, it’s nice to have these moments where I can just be myself. Not ‘Karina the leader,’ just Karina.”

“Well, for the record, you’re pretty cool Rina, leader or not,” Y/n said, giving her a sincere look. “I think we’d all be a little lost without you, to be honest.”

“Cool? Not cute?”

“Erm. Sorry, I have a Minjeong.” Y/n denied.

She let out a soft chuckle, bumping his shoulder. “Thanks, Y/n. It’s nice to hear that, especially from someone who has to put up with us 24/7.”

"You're welcome." Y/n grinned. "Now, please stop punching the camera."

-

Exhausted and a little breathless, they finally put down their bats, slumping onto a bench in the lounge area. Bits of dust and tiny shards clung to their protective gear, but they looked thoroughly exhilarated.

Y/n turned to her with a smile. “You’re living up to the name Rocket Puncher, you know that?”

Karina shrugged, though her eyes sparkled. “I guess I just have a habit of punching things.”

Y/n laughed. “Just don��t go overboard. We can’t have you smashing plates left and right during practice, alright?”

She laughed, nodding. “Fair enough. I’ll keep it contained to smash rooms.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Karina pointed toward the photo booth in the corner, her eyes lighting up. “Hey! Before we go, we should take a picture. Just, you know, to remember today.”

Y/n followed her gaze and groaned. “Are you serious? We look like we just walked out of a war!”

“Exactly! That’s the point!” Karina insisted, practically dragging him over. “C’mon, tough guy, one picture won’t kill you.”

As the camera flashed, Karina made a series of increasingly ridiculous faces, pulling Y/n into the antics with her. By the last frame, he was laughing so hard he barely noticed the camera snapping.

When the photos printed, Karina held up the strip with pride. “This is definitely going up on the fridge. Maybe I’ll even show Minjeong.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Please don't. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Karina just smirked, pocketing the photos. “Consider it payback for letting me rant today. And don’t worry—I’ll only tease you a little.”

“Tsk.” Y/n sighed. “ But thanks for this, Rina. I think I needed it more than I realised.”

She smiled, looping her arm over his shoulder. “Anytime, Y/n. A little smash helps wonder.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation lingering, but in a way that felt comforting rather than heavy.

-

Karina’s usual habit was quickly taken up by a notch in the dorm. No one could resist teasing her after each new incident, and her reactions—half-defensive, half-mortified—only added to the fun.

Which happened sooner than expected.

One evening, everyone was gathered around the dinner table for takeout night. Y/n watched with an amused grin as Karina grabbed her chopsticks with a little too much enthusiasm, causing her plate to slip and crack against the table.

“Welp, another one bites the dust,” Y/n quipped, leaning back with a smirk.

Karina gave him a narrowed look, cheeks flushed. “You know what? Maybe plates these days just aren’t made to last!”

Winter snorted. “Or maybe you’re just turning into some kind of superhero with ‘smash’ as your only superpower.”

“Sooo…Hulk?” Giselle questioned.

Karina huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, I didn’t ask for this power.”

Ningning leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, but if you keep breaking things, people might actually believe you’re the leader of a super-powered girl group.”

Giselle clapped her hands, laughing. “Imagine if they replaced our choreo with you smashing props on stage!”

Y/n’s eyes lit up with mock seriousness. “Rina, think of the fan meetings. You’d just need to sign autographs on concrete blocks with a sledgehammer or something.”

Karina tried to stifle her laugh but couldn’t. She finally gave in, laughing as she tossed a crumpled napkin at Y/n. “You’re all just jealous of my raw strength.”

-

The next morning, Y/n and Karina found themselves in the kitchen, prepping for a long day ahead. Karina was trying to work the espresso machine, but it seemed to be giving her trouble. As she pulled the handle, the coffee machine sputtered and stopped working entirely.

“Did it just…?” Karina blinked, staring at the lifeless machine.

Y/n, stifling a laugh, leaned in to inspect. “Hmmmm, let’s see, it was perfectly fine this morning, and now it’s dead. Who could possibly be responsible?”

Karina swatted his arm. “Hey! I didn’t even touch it that hard! I just… pulled the lever with a bit of confidence.”

“Oh, ‘confidence,’” Y/n said with a grin. “That’s a nice way of putting it. You know, you’re like a coffee machine whisperer… except in reverse.”

Karina glared at him, then let out a laugh. “Fine, maybe I got a little too eager. But you’re making the coffee, then.”

Y/n shook his head, feigning exasperation as he grabbed his phone to put in a delivery order for iced lattes instead. “I’ll be sending this bill to the SM. You know, at this rate, you’re going to single-handedly ruin every appliance in the dorm.”

“Then maybe you should start getting unbreakable appliances,” Karina shot back, grinning as she took a seat at the counter.

Winter wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She looked between the two and yawned. “What happened now?”

“Coffee machine casualty,” Y/n explained, waving a hand at the machine. “She claimed another victim.”

Winter shook her head with a small laugh. “Great….another funeral?”

Karina shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “Apparently, I’ve just… developed an ult.”

-

A few days later, Karina and Y/n were shopping for some supplies when they wandered into the electronics section. They’d been joking about her newfound “habit” all morning, and Karina couldn’t resist poking fun at herself.

“Ya, Y/n, think they sell smash-proof headphones?” she asked with a grin, picking up a sleek pair.

He laughed. “If they did, you’d be their first customer.”

Karina nodded thoughtfully, pretending to examine the headphones. “Maybe we should just go all out and buy everything in metal. Like, imagine an indestructible blender or a phone that can survive anything.”

Y/n snorted, crossing his arms. “What, you’re planning on hurling your phone across the room?”

Karina gave him a playful nudge. “Not *intentionally*. But you never know.”

She picked up a ceramic mug, examining it thoughtfully. “Hmm. You think this one would survive me?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you try holding it like a normal human, and we’ll see?”

Karina broke into laughter, the two of them gathering curious stares from other shoppers. “Fine, fine, I’ll keep my grip to a minimum.”

-

That night, back at the dorm, the members were lounging around after a busy day. Y/n was tidying up the living room when he heard a familiar *crack* from the kitchen. He didn’t even have to look to know who the culprit was.

“YOO JIMIN!” he called, trying to sound stern but barely hiding his amusement.

Karina peeked around the corner, looking sheepish. “It was just a spoon…”

Winter groaned dramatically. “Do we even have spoons left at this point?”

Ningning held up a plastic spoon with a grin. “These are the only safe ones left. And I’m not taking any chances.”

Giselle couldn’t resist piling on. “At this rate, we’re going to have to wrap everything in bubble wrap. Including you, unnie.”

Karina laughed, her face flushing pink. “It’s not my fault! Everything’s so fragile!”

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Okay, you and I are making a pact. Once a month, smash room therapy. But no more ‘practicing’ in the dorm, got it?”

Karina raised her hand in mock seriousness, nodding. “Fine, deal. Monthly smashing sessions only in the smash room. But only if you join me.”

The others burst into laughter as Y/n sighed, defeated. “Alright, alright. As long as you promise to keep your ‘smashing’ in the smash room.”

Winter nudged Karina, grinning. “This is really gonna be a thing, isn’t it?”

Karina shrugged, laughing. “Guess so. Let’s just hope I don’t smash anything important, like, I dunno… the door.”

“Or my boyfriend” Winter instantly glared at her leader while hugging Y/n. “Only he can deal with our rowdiness here.”

The entire group laughed, shaking their heads. Despite the accidental destruction, they couldn’t help but enjoy every minute of it. Karina’s “habit” had become an endless source of entertainment, and Y/n knew he’d never look at a coffee machine—or a remote—the same way again.

-

The next month rolled around, and true to their agreement, Y/n and Karina made another trip to the smash room. Karina was fired up, armed with a bat and practically bouncing on her heels as she looked at the new array of breakables.

“Oh, you’re going down this time,” she taunted, tossing Y/n a helmet. “Get ready to lose, mister.”

Y/n scoffed, slipping on his helmet and giving her a playful glare. “Is that so? We’ll see about that. Just don’t go breaking anything else when we get back to the dorm, okay?”

With that, the smash room countdown started, and they both went at it. Plates shattered, vases exploded, and Karina laughed wildly with every hit. They were neck and neck, neither one letting up as they plowed through piles of items. But just as they were about to swing at the last piece—a towering stack of old electronics—they paused, catching their breath.

Karina raised her bat, grinning. “Alright, let’s end this. Whoever smashes it first is the ultimate champ.”

Y/n, equally competitive now, rolled his shoulders, raising his bat. “Prepare to lose, Rocket Puncher.”

“Three… two… one!” They both swung, aiming straight for the top of the stack.

But just as they were about to hit, Karina’s bat connected a split second sooner, sending pieces flying—and her bat continued on its path, grazing Y/n’s arm as he tried to dodge.

“Ow!” he yelped, dropping his bat and clutching his arm, though a grin tugged at his lips.

Karina gasped, immediately dropping her bat. “Oh my gosh, Y/n! I’m so sorry!” She rushed over, her hands hovering as if she wanted to check on him but didn’t want to make it worse.

Y/n burst into laughter, holding his “injured” arm dramatically. “You actually smashed me, Karina! I didn’t know I’d signed up for *full-contact smashing.*”

She smacked his shoulder playfully, though she was still red-faced with embarrassment. “You were in my way! And stop laughing—I thought I broke your arm!”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Next time, we’re putting a strict no beating your manager rule in place. I barely survived.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head as she helped him up. “Guess I did win the smashing contest, though,” she teased, flashing him a victorious grin.

Y/n chuckled, rubbing his arm with a smile. “Yeah, yeah, Rocket Puncher… but the prize is definitely on you. Because from now on, I’m giving you a permanent smash ban.”

She pouted, though she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if I accidentally ‘smash’ something again. Just… try not to stand in my way next time?”

“That sounds wron-“

“Finish that and you will eat this bat.” Karina glared.

“Yes ma’am”

With a shared stifled laugh, they both left the smash room, Karina proudly claiming her “victory” and Y/n mentally preparing to dodge any “unintentional” smash attacks back at the dorm.

As they finished their monthly agreement and left the smash room, a renewed sense of camaraderie between them, both feeling lighter than they had in a long time. There was certainly mild hostility between the two of them when first met, but things changed for the better.

It wasn’t just the smashing or the laughs—it was the reminder that they had each other, through all the chaos, and that was a pretty solid foundation to lean on.

[danisdistant]

sunday - your past sins are meaningless now - prologue

[intro blog] | [taglist] | [masterlist] | [table of contents]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

sunday x stellaronhunter!reader

firefly’s part of the script has finally concluded. after an unexpected final death, she has returned back to safety alongside silver wolf.

“i brought some gifts!” she exclaimed, holding out bags as kafka smiled. “oh? is it another jacket?” she said, looking into her bag as firefly handed it to her.

“well, it was something that was on your list…” firefly nervously said before turning to blade. “here! i also got you something.”

blade pulled out a recipe booklet for various drinks from penacony. “thanks.” he only nodded as a response. firefly moved on and gave you a bag.

“pfft, you didn’t have to get me anything, firefly.” you chuckled, causing her to tilt her head in response. “you don’t know? i’m next in the script.”

“wait.. you’re going to penacony??”

you explained that kafka had received a new message from elio. it heavily hinted that there would be a new member to the group, and the new member would be put on trial soon. you were specifically tasked on breaking the bird out of the cage it putted itself into, although you weren’t exactly sure on who this bird was.

“and according to elio, it’ll be me busting him out.” you explained. “although, i’m not exactly sure who this person is. i haven’t been caught up to date on exactly what’s happening in penacony.”

“that’s because you keep stealing my console to play gacha games all the time.” wolfie glared at you as you nervously chuckled.

“a person on trial…?” firefly placed her hand on her chin to think. “hold on, is it talking about sunday..?”

“the head of the oak family on penacony?!” you stared at her wide-eyed. “he’s on trial?! wait- he’s going to join us??”

“ugh- i should be saying that question.” firefly shook her head. “so, when are you heading to penacony?”

“sometime tomorrow, before the trial starts.” you peaked into the bag that firefly had given you. “by the way, what did you get me?”

you pulled a small keychain that resembled some sort of building in the dreamscape. it looked massive, though you’d have to see it for yourself if you wanted to compare the accuracy.

“awww…! thanks mothie!” you said, smiling as her brows quickly furrowed. “hey! i thought we agreed not to call me a moth!!”

“but- i’m glad you guys enjoyed the gifts.” she sighed, smiling as kafka chuckled. “of course. now that [name] is going to penacony as well, surely we can expect some more goodies.. right?~”

something told you within kafka’s tone that she was serious. you probably should make some time to get at least her some sort of coat.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“…i refuse your offer.” his voice was slightly course but still as sharp as usual. still refusing to make eye contact, sunday would tell that jade was surprised by his answer by her change in tone.

“so… do you wish to die?” she was both amused and disappointed by his answer. she would by lying if she said that she wasn’t looking forward to tearing his wings off herself. “you know that the other family heads won’t spare you if you’re put to trial.”

“i’ve already failed. i’ve sinned.” sunday murmured. “there’s no reason for me to continue on, unless it’s paying for my sins.”

jade sighed. even now, he still sees himself as the only person who can bear the weight of everyone’s sins. if she can’t convince him…

“…you have three days, sunday.” she sighed, turning around as she placed her hand on the door. “my offer still stands until the trial. don’t forget, robin is still looking for you.”

as she closed the door behind her, the only visible light was the dim glow emitting from the chains. they were uncomfortable, and constantly pricked sunday’s skin over and over again.

a part of him wants to fight back, to break free from the chains and cage. but, another part tells him to give up. sunday failed his purpose in life he promised his father he would succeed.

although he is doubtfull, he still hopes that faith somehow will free him from the cage.

[next]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hey there Astra! Hope you're taking care of yourself and doing well 😄. Can I request Izou, Thatch, Marco, and Ace with a shy!s/o? If it's too much you can just do Izou, thank you so much you're the best!! 🤍

So this is also my @onepiece-bingo submission for 'First Kiss'. Thank you for being so patient with me.

Warnings: first kisses, Shy!Reader, Izou, Thatch, Marco, Ace

Word Count: 1490

Izou

     It was cute how shy you were, how you hid behind him if too much attention was on you, how you sank in your seat to try to not be noticed, and how you squeaked and quietly insisted on being put down if he lifted you into the air. That being said, it was hard to keep a ‘low profile’ when you were dating the prettiest pirate in the New World and 16th division commander. The man attracted attention and oozed confidence and an elegance that drew people to him. You, by comparison, were relatively plain. Choosing not to wear flashy makeup or clothing in order to not attract attention. Head down and refusing to meet people’s eyes so that they wouldn’t approach you. Izou wasn’t really bothered by your shyness, in fact he found it rather endearing and cute. There was… one thing he didn’t like about your shyness though. You hated PDA. PDA always brought attention to you, attention and teasing. The most he could do was hold your hand but even then, you preferred to hold one of his long sleeves, afraid of the attention you might get if you actually held his hand. The crew never teased you on anything, they knew better than to try to tease you, less they invoke Izou’s wrath, but you still worried about all the eyes that could be watching you. He hadn’t even had his first kiss with you yet! But he was going to change that today! He had a nice place to pull you aside, away from the prying eyes of the others, secluded and not likely to be bothered. So pulling you through the halls, he smiled back at you, the confused look on your face only making you cuter.

     “Y/n.” he said softly, caressing your cheek as he closed the door behind you, “it’s not the romance you deserve, but I’ve been waiting too long to do this.” Izou said softly, pulling you into a sweet kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Suddenly, you wished you’d done this sooner, that you’d had the courage to kiss him in front of the others. Breaking the kiss, you looked up at him, in wonder.

     “Can… can we do that again?” you asked softly, the dark haired man smiling as he pulled you into another kiss.

Ace

     Ace was wild, loud, outgoing, and commanding. You were shy, quiet, introverted, and timid. Logically, your relationship made little sense, but then, love didn’t make any logical sense. You liked how he was always doing grand gestures to show you how much he cared, how he was pulling you out on some new adventure, and how he showered you in affection. He loved how cute you were, how your need to avoid attention kept him out of too much trouble, how you quietly gave him small gifts. That being said, there were things you both hated. You hated how he was always attracting attention to you, despite your protests, you hated how he was always pulling you into his trouble, and how he’d pull you with him when he was really happy, drawing the attention of the entire crew to the two of you. He hated how you always wanted to be a wallflower during parties, how he wasn’t allowed to show you off and tell everyone how amazing you were, and the one he hated the most, how adamantly you refused PDA. He wanted to walk down the street with his arm wrapped around your waist, he wanted to spin you around in his arms, and most importantly, he wanted his damn first kiss with you! But he’d be damned if your shyness stopped him! It was the dead of night that he tugged you to the back of the ship.

     “Ace, what’s so important that you needed to talk to me at this hour at the back of the ship?” you asked, confused and slightly annoyed. You’d been getting ready for bed, what did he want? Ace just gave you one of his sunny smiles as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, hands on either cheek, holding your head as he sighed happily into the kiss. You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into the kiss, hands gripping his shoulders. Pulling back, he grinned at the dazed look in your eyes. He didn’t bother to say a thing as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into another kiss, neither of you aware of the small audience that peeked through the windows, quietly cheering and exchanging bet money. 

Marco

     Sitting in his office, Marco smiled over at you. You always looked so at home in the solitude of his office, away from the rowdy and often boisterous crew. Helping the phoenix with whatever various paperwork or office work he had. He understood your desire to stay out of the spotlight, to stay away from the excitement and attention that often came with much of the crew. In fact, it astounded him that someone as shy as you even sailed with the Whitebeard Pirates. The most infamous pirate currently alive, someone everyone kept an eye on, and you stayed with them. Getting up, he walked over to you, pushing some hair out of your face and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. 

     “Sorry, Little Bird, you looked too cute-yoi.” he said softly, large hand cupping your cheek as he sat on the edge of the desk you were working at. Smiling up at him, you leaned into his touch, he was always so sweet. Turning your head, you placed a soft kiss on his palm, the sweet gesture making him sigh happily. Leaning down, he put a hand under your chin, his lips meeting yours, lightly pushing you back into your chair so he could deepen the kiss. Pulling away, you couldn’t help but giggle.

     “What’s so funny, Little Bird?” he asked, as you smiled at him.

     “It’s just… every kiss feels like the first with you. I… I still get butterflies and my stomach still does flips.” you admittedly shyly. 

     “I agree, your lips still taste just as sweet-yoi.” he said with a nod before pulling you into another kiss. He’d never been so happy that he worked away from the crew, able to share kisses like this with you as often as he desired.

Thatch

     The man was a damned flirt, though perhaps that’s what attracted you to him in the first place, how he made you swoon, how charming and sweet he was… his culinary skills didn’t hurt either. Well… mostly, in any case. It was sweet how he’d make you all sorts of culinary confections, cooking your favorite just for you, or other delicious treats. But he was always presenting them in the biggest, most ostentatious, attention drawing ways. Ways that had you looking for somewhere to hide from the prying eyes. Sure, he usually tried to keep said ostentatiousness in private, but on more than one occasion, he’d drawn the attention of damn near the entire crew to you. Hiding in the kitchen, you glanced back at Thatch, making sure that nobody could peek in and see the two of you. 

     “Don’t worry, my sweet treat, nobody’s going to bother us.” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. 

     “I just… you have a tendency to draw everybody’s attention and you know I hate that.” you said, placing one of your hands over his as you relaxed in his hold.

     “I’ll make you a deal, you give me one thing and I’ll try to be better about that.” he offered, making you raise an eyebrow.

     “I suppose that depends on the ‘one thing’.” you said, as he continued holding you.

     “Just… close your eyes and trust me.” he whispered in your ear, making you sigh both from exasperation and your heart melting. Doing as he said, you felt him let you go for just a moment before his hands were on your waist again, picking you up and setting you on the counter as his lips met yours. You wouldn’t deny that you’d been waiting for this moment for a while, but there never seemed to be a good, quiet, moment for your first kiss. A moment where the crew wouldn’t bother you with wolf whistles and ‘good natured’ teasing. Your hands clung to the yellow scarf he was always wearing, keeping him pulled close to you as you remained lip locked until you needed to breathe. 

     “A-alright, that… I’ll allow you one more for free, but after that you have to keep your end of the deal.” you said shyly, staring down at your lap as you blushed. Thatch chuckled and pulled you into another kiss, more than happy to get another ‘freebie’. 

[inkbagel]

Okay I gotta ask: who’s Clancy?

I’ve been listening to a little bit more twenty one pilots lately just because I found a couple songs I like and I noticed the name pop up in Paladin Straits.

Is this a real person? Is there lore behind the songs? I’m dying to know, tell me their secrets /nf

OKOKOK OMGG OK SO

Clancy is a fictional character, idk if there’s actually a name for the lore other than the tøp lore but he’s from there

The guy on the left is Josh Dun/The Torchbearer, and the guy on the right is Tyler Joseph/Clancy.

Clancys the mc in the story and the Torchbearer is his kind of romantically coded best friend who’s also the leader of the Banditos! A rebel(?) group that lives outside the city of Dema.

If you go to twenty one pilots channel on yt, they have a playlist with every major lore video (but there’s plenty of extra stuff outside of that playlist that you can find on the Wikipedia, plus a livestream they did in-universe which is v pretty I love it dearly I have a link if you ever want it)

The whole story is a mediphor for battling with mental health, and tells it really well!! It’s really impressive.

The basic plot of the story is Clancy is a citizen of Dema, a large depressing city in the gorgeous fictional continent of Trench. The city is controlled by the Nine Bishops who enforce their religion upon its citizens (which is essentially telling everyone to be depressed and kill themselves) so they can “seize them” (bc the bishops can control dead bodies)

The city is nearly impossible to escape thanks to a giant concrete wall, but Clancy has escaped multiple times. Outside the wall he meets up with the Banditos (led by the torchbearer) and just kinda lives with them and is happy and loved and everything good. But Nico (the leader of the nine bishops) keeps dragging him back into Dema.

At some point Clancy becomes well known in the city for being one of like three people to escape, (and also for having a website dedicated to spreading propaganda but that part of the story gets confusing and no one really understands what happens to Clancy there) and the bishops decide to use this to their advantage by giving Clancy pink hair and pronouns and forcing him to be an entertainer.

(Side note during this arc Clancy started to flat out hallucinate the torchbearer bc he was so lonely which I think is really cute he missed his best friend so much)

Eventually Clancy escapes bc Nico is betrayed by another bishop, Keons, and gets washed up onto an island called Voldsoy where he meets the Neds!

(They look like this I couldn’t find a picture from the actual story and am too lazy to go screenshot it myself)

The neds give him the gift of their antlers which allow Clancy to control bodies the same way bishops do!

Another side note, the REAL torchbearer has the Jesus-like power of controlling Clancy’s hallucination to “guide” Clancy to places he needs to go (he guided Clancy to the Neds and also guided him back to the Banditos later)

After Clancy meets back up with the banditos (and more importantly the torchbearer), they all prepare for a final battle with the bishops and go fight them. This is where for the bajillionth time the lore gets confusing.

This happened in the finale which btw, right before releasing the video, Tyler Joseph (lead singer) said “let me ask you, do you think this is the end?” Bc this most recent album was supposed to be the finale to the story but now he’s acting cryptic about it? So a lot of people are torn on if we’re getting more lore or not (I think we definitely are esp after what they’re doing with the world tour)

But basically in the finale all the Banditos fought the Bishop controlled zombies outside the walls of Dema so Clancy could sneak in undetected and take out the bishops, and he takes down most of them but right at the last second Nico grabs Clancy by the neck and starts talking to him and then Clancy opens his eyes to stare Nico down and send a message that he’s not afraid of him anymore and the screen cuts to black.

Once again this is supposed to be the end of the lore. A lot of ppl are assuming Clancy is dead rn but now that the tøp world tour started there’s more lore involving different characters writing letters to each other. This is so far unrelated aside from the fact that they all talk about Clancy inspiring them to take action.

All the albums after Vessel are based on the story. They’re supposed to all be in the pov of Clancy (ofc) and if you look closely at the lyrics you can catch a lot of extra lore.

Blurryface is what Nico calls himself, Trench is the name of the pretty continent they live in, Scaled and icy is an enneagram for “Clancy is dead” (which in their Christmas single they said was propaganda) and also a play on the saying “scaled back and isolated” (bc it’s the album where Clancy is kidnapped and alone) and finally Clancy, the “finale”. It’s a really cool story.

There’s a ton of extra details I left out like the significance of the color yellow but yea that’s the main story and who Clancy is :) my siblings and I have been digging up all the lore the past month and with each new tidbit I get a little more fixated on this weird cat guy hope you like this unprompted infodump

[honnelander]

Hi there! Hope you are doing well. I was just wondering if you quit the “go fish” series. If not— there’s no rush. I just wanted to check in and ask how you are and share my compliments for you. I really like your writing style and how you beautifully capture every moment. Sometimes I even go back to reread your go fish series and appreciate how well you paint the atmosphere and each character’s essence. Are there any authors you take inspiration from or books you recommend?

If you are nervous about finishing the series— don’t be. You’re clearly gifted and should trust your intuition. Remember to take care of yourself first. I think your audience will adore anything you post, so don’t stress over it. And if you have a writer’s block but are still pushing through it, good luck. Thanks again for sharing your meticulously crafted work with the community.

hi there 🥹 thanks for checking in (you and everyone else who has been kind enough to leave asks in my inbox and comments on my posts)

I haven’t quit the series, it’s just taking me a hell of a lot longer to finish it than I ever expected due to a lot of different things. I had hit a writer’s block, have scrapped what I’ve started a few times, or didn’t like the idea I had and I didn’t want to rush anything or put something out there that didn’t feel authentic to the series that has touched thousands of people 🥹😭 I want to get this right.

Since writing has been always something I’ve enjoyed getting lost in, I thought now would be a good time to get back into it, especially since I have a lot of personal stuff going on.

Monthsssss ago I had finally started writing the next part for go fish! that I absolutely loved and then, quite literally had forgotten about it. I just went back to my work and re-read it, and it’s already 4.9 k words! I would love to just post the parts that are finished, because the actual confession everyone’s been waiting for months for isn’t done and will probably be another 3,000 words or so. (I tend to get carried away 😅)

So let me know what you guys would prefer! The finished part is 2.3k words. Would you guys like for me to post that? Or just wait longer to read everything at once? It’s definitely be over 6k words, which is how massive the last part was….(I honestly just might post what’s finished bc I feel bad to have left everyone hanging for so long 🥲)

And thank you, thank you, thank YOU for your (and everyone’s!) kind compliments and high praise- I really don’t feel deserving of any of it but it all truly means so much to me. 🥹🤍

To answer your question, I actually don’t really have an author or inspiration that I draw from 🤔 I used to read a ton as a kid (books and fic) and I guess that has helped me find my writing style? I also write things in a way that scratches an itch I have when I look for fic to read. I want just enough details to set the scene and the feelings of the characters but not be bogged down with too much that it drags the pace down 🫠 I’ll never forget when I read IT by Stephen King and it just dragged on FOREVER bc he would write so much word vomit that (in my opinion) took me out of the story and frustrated me. I wanted to get to the good parts but also not miss anything important, so when I write I try to get to the point 😂😅

[handers-time]

Handers Gift Exchange 2024 Round-up! 

This year's Handers Gift Exchange has officially come to a close!

We'd like to give a huge thank you and shoutout to all 20 of our participants this year. Congratulations to you all, for doing so well creating beautiful works for your giftees.

On behalf of the mods ( @dismalzelenka, @un-shit-yourself, @storybookhawke, and @hollyand-writes ), thank you to everyone who remains in the Handers fandom—in addition to authors and artists, it also includes readers, commenters, serial kudosers, and avid rebloggers! We appreciate all the love, enthusiasm, support, and cheerleading everyone did throughout this event. Everyone involved keeps the love of the ship alive and well even thirteen years after the game came out.

If you participated in this event, we ask that you please leave a comment on the gift you received, at least three lines in length! Participation goes both ways, so please give some praise and adoration to the person who devoted their time and energy to create a gift for you.

You can view the blog's tag for this event here, and the AO3 collection here, but below is a compiled list of all the amazing gifts shared over the course of this exchange. Please mind the tags and ratings as you go through them!

Invitations by replicatortrash for ghostbunny M!Handers | Explicit |

Summary: Garrett Hawke has been trying to open his home to Anders for weeks and it's been slow going. Is he keeping distance because of something from his past, or because Garrett is a vampire... or is there something else going on Garrett hasn't considered?

Mélange by dismalzelenka for Sulkyvalkyrie F!Handers | Explicit |

Summary: “I want Justice involved.” It was a marvel, Anders thought, how four words flipped his entire world on its head. “You what?” Hawke tilted her head, catlike curiosity peppered across her face. “Justice,” she repeated. “I want him involved.” In which Hawke confesses some secrets, and Anders and Justice both learn there is far more to Hawke than meets the eye.

The Short Straw by autumninfall for DemonicPersephone F!Handers | Mature |

Summary: A quick way to earn some coin while fleeing the Templars of Kirkwall. A dragon up in the mountains. Surely nothing will go wrong, right?

at the end of the world by PhantomsLost for barbex F!Handers | Teen |

Summary: “Hawke, no.” She shook her head and took a step back, both hands still gripping her staff tight. “You and I both know we don’t have a better option.” Tipping her head slightly in the direction of the looming Nightmare, she added, “Go. I’ve got this.”

Broken, yet Remade by Actually_An_Insane_Fangirl for PhantomsLost F!Handers | Teen |

Summary: Hawke may be broken, but that doesn't mean she cannot be remade with the gentle hands of a healer.

Lunacy by Sulkyvalkyrie for GhostGarrison M!Handers | Explicit |

Summary: Hawke wanted to wait another night, but Anders can't stop worrying about him...

Looking the Part by acesdesire M!Handers | Teen |

Summary: While visiting Chateau Haine, Hawke finds himself enjoying the party more than expected, especially with Anders looking so dashing in his formal wear. Infiltration can wait (even if Tallis might have other plans). He would much rather indulge in this rare and beautiful moment.

Some Guys Have All the Luck by barbex for dismalzelenka M!Handers | Explicit |

Summary: Watching Anders fight, powerful, controlled, turns Hawke on like nothing else. That's a man he wants to get on his knees for. And more.

Hunting by DemonicPersephone for Actually_An_Insane_Fangirl F!Handers | Explicit |

Summary: Nothing like a near death experience to make romance bloom <3

Chasing the Light by leonidskies for SalsedinePicta M!Handers | Teen |

Summary: Anders is having a bad day. Hawke, forever down bad, refuses to let it go.

Hurt Less by ghostbunny for PorlPoint M!Handers | Mature |

Summary: After coming close to killing the mage girl, Ella, Anders is in a bad way, consumed by guilt and shame and beginning to spiral. Hawke attempts to help him through it, while dealing with some of his own insecurities.

The One That Didn't Get Away by FactoryKat for winebearcat M!Handers | G |

Summary: Of all the things that could have happened to newcomer Garrett Hawke after moving to Kirkwall, picking up a date outside of a walk-in clinic wasn't exactly on his predictions list.

Healing the Healer by PorlPoint M!Handers | Teen |

Summary: Anders is seriously injured and out of mana, with only Hawke there to heal him before it's too late.

Rose Cottage by winebearcat for leonidskies M!Handers | Mature |

Summary: Anders reaches his 50th Name Day. He never expected to make it past 30, let alone have his happy ending.

ART: storybookhawke's piece for autumninfall M!Handers | G |

ART: notomys-mordax-blog's piece for ocean-in-my-rebel-soul M!Handers | G |

ART: salsedinepicta's piece for notomys-mordax-blog M!Handers | G |

ART: kittyopera's piece for acesdesire M!Handers | G |

ART: gevascloset's piece for factorykat M!Handers | G |

ART: moosu's piece for kittyoperas M!Handers | G |

[idlerin]

nonsense — 12. i despise you

five years ago still,,

“quit whispering in my ear, people are starting to stare,” you whisper to oikawa who was sitting next to you, arm lazily placed around the back of your chair. maybe they weren’t just staring at the both of you because of the whispering. you were already standing out being the only one in black in the midst of the white aoba johsai uniform.

“hm?” he hummed directly in your ear, which made you shiver involuntarily, you only hoped he didn’t notice, but of course he did. you see the teasing smile he held, something you were oh so familiar to.

the both of you were currently in his school, because that’s where the joint assembly was held, you had the choice to come here by classroom assignments or by club, you chose to come by club because then there would be less people crammed in the bus.

“i despise you,” you say to him when he starts playing with your hair. the amount of staring got worse. he was popular! did he forget about that? it’s like you could feel the harsh glares of the jealous girls wishing they could be in your position. they could take it! gladly!

but then you don’t really mean that, do you? shut up mind!

“okay, [name]-chan,” he says, eyes at the front as if he was listening to whatever the speaker was saying, honestly, you weren’t too, maybe you’ll ask your classmates tomorrow or something.

you’ve known of oikawa tooru since junior high, he was already popular since then (has this man ever lived when he wasn’t popular?). he was that cool and attractive senior everyone had a crush on, even you were enraptured, he was just so charming, but then you quickly realized that most of his smiles were fake the day you confessed to him, sorta.

it was the last day before his batch's graduation, he was surrounded by people like usual while you were anxiously carrying out a gift (it was milk bread, since you learned from a senior that it was his favorite food) to confess to him with. you tried to find a moment where you could be alone with him, it was difficult, since people kept approaching him left and right and you weren’t about to just walk over and hand him a gift, how embarrassing that would be, you didn’t even think he knew who you were.

but eventually, he was left alone, and you were there from afar watching how his cheery smile fell from his face and what’s left was a tired expression. you were taken aback since you never saw your senior look so gloomy. you hesitantly stepped closer, not saying a word and handing him a gift.

he looked up at you at first, confused, then you watched his mask slip on again as he gave you a smile, “oh? what’s this?” he took the gift gratefully as you froze in his presence.

“i-i’m your number one supporter,” you bowed, face heating up because you stuttered. a lot of people have probably said that to him.

“you’re… [name], right?” the way he spoke your name made your heart beat obnoxiously faster. he knew your name! oh my god he knew your name! how did he know your name? “you’re from the journalism club, i see you around our games documenting it, thank you for the praises for our club!”

“you’re welcome,” was the only thing you could say as you stood up straight again. “i’ve also seen some of the shows you’ve been in so far, i think you’re really talented,” your face was impossibly redder. “t-that’s all, thank you, goodbye,” you say and run away, you hear him call out another thanks but you didn’t have the courage to look back.

you thought that was the last you’ll see of him, since you didn’t end up in the same highschool anyways, and your tiny little crush on him had faded. that was until you showed up at the house of the little boy named takeru you were supposed to be tutoring and jumped when you saw his figure sprawled on the couch. you continued tutoring takeru peacefully and ignored oikawa tooru. the last time you saw him was embarrassing, you think he’s forgotten about you already, you hoped he has.

but when you were on your way to leave he waved a complacent goodbye, “have a safe walk back home, [name]!”

and all of that lead you here to this moment, the assembly had ended and you were being dragged around by oikawa tooru to his classroom because he forgot something in there and decided you should come with him. now you were sitting on one of the classroom chairs— it was a really nice desk, why couldn’t karasuno get a clean not-carved by students' desk.

you watched as oikawa pokes his hand inside his desk among the countless school supplies he left there.

“what are you trying to find?” you ask, head laying on the desk.

“my pen! the one you gave me,” he said, “here it is,” he says triumphantly, showing you the pen with a crow design on it, yes you gave the captain of aoba johsai karasuno merch, what about it?

oikawa leans back on his chair, stretching, “god, i’m tired.”

“has your schedule been packed this week too?” you ask, face scrunched up, you were worried of course, for the past year, you’ve been exposed to oikawa’s rather hectic life, you try to remind him all the time to watch his health.

“yeah, glad i have the weekend off though,” he sighs, he then stood up from where he sat, walking in front of you, blocking your view of the board, “do you want to go eat out?”

you pause, looking up at him, “are you asking me out?” your face heated up at the thought, you just blurted that out without thinking, you were just supposed to ask that in your head.

oikawa notices again, of course he does, he notices everything. he leaned down a little, a hand on the back of your chair, the other on the desk, "[name]-chan, it seems like you're starting to fall for me," he smirks, he was teasing you like usual.

you try to give him a deadpan face as you curl your hand around his tie, tugging him down close to your face, you felt his breath hitch, now he knows how it feels, "and what if I am?” you say boldly. inside you were a complete mess, because why were you confessing, why were you confessing.

alone in this big classroom with just him and you, the warm hues of the sun filtering from the glass windows, from this angle, oikawa’s face was just so close, you realize you were still holding onto his tie so you let go of it abruptly.

you watch as oikawa gulps, “i like you too, [name],” he says it softly. it wasn’t teasing anymore, and now the two of you were incredibly red.

masterlist — previous | next

✦ fun facts !

[name] meets the other boys shortly after this

oikawa and [name] dated for a year and a half!

[name] is a tsundere, if it isn’t obvious enough lol

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — god i love writing fluff

taglist is open ! + @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @konzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @rintarousprincess @yyuiz @epeec28 @llamakenma @penguinlovestowrite

[differentclasss]

Christmas One Shot ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Neil Lewis x Reader

pairing: Neil Lewis x reader

summary: Neil throws a party at Gumshoe and admits his feelings towards y/n.

warnings: smut 9 (a handjob) and not really proofread writing. Neil is a little cringe in this lol. Probably not in character

a/n: I wrote this so quickly but I just wanted to get something out for the holiday! Also, send me requests! I have some free time so I'll probably start going through those again.

Honestly, you would’ve spent Christmas alone if it wasn’t for your friend Neil deciding to throw a last-minute watch party of It’s a Wonderful Life at Gumshoe Video that day. It was the most in spirit of the season activity you had done that December with the whole idea of Christmas spirit being a little lost on you recently. You didn’t know why you lacked the usual zeal compared to Christmases of years prior but the whole month of December just seemed like any other month. It was true, you were getting older but even so, you normally had at least a little bit of enthusiasm for this time of the season. You pushed these thoughts away, however, telling yourself you would at least have fun at the small gathering at Gumshoe. You would work for free every once in a while too at Gumshoe, when your schedule was free, so you knew everyone there. It would be fun, the same ensemble as usual all planning to go.  Neil was the planner of this whole thing too, which truth be told was the entire reason you were even going. You had a small crush on Neil, he was cute, and it was hard for anyone not to find him cute. He was the type of cute that would make you do something really stupid if you weren’t careful, which is why you admired him from a distance, only ever playfully flirting with him but all around keeping it pretty friendly. 

Christmas day came and you slept in, no reason to get up early with your work being closed that day and the watch party being at six in the evening. Eventually, four rolled around and you spent a bit of extra time getting ready, you told yourself you just wanted to dress up for the holiday but deep down you knew that attention-seeking part of yourself wanted to impress Neil, even in the slightest. Off you went, donning what you considered a festive outfit and grabbing a bottle of wine as a party gift, not wanting to show up empty-handed. When you got to Gumshoe you took note of all of the decorations in the windows. There were twinkling lights and a few cardboard cut-outs with those cheap Santa hats draped over their heads. You thought if anywhere could offer you single-use Christmas spirit, this would be the place. 

After making your rounds of brief catch-ups with some of your fellow regulars, you spot Neil. He’s over by the television, fussing with the VHS player. He curses under his breath as he clicks the on and off button a few times and waits for something to happen. 

“Is it broken?” You ask, appearing over his right shoulder.

 

“I hope not.” He mumbles. “Before you ask, I already unplugged it and plugged it back in and I’ve been pushing the on-off button for five minutes now.”

“It’s old,” You say and crotch down to the player's level. “You try hitting it yet?”

“What?” He asks, looking at you with a bewildered face. 

Without another beat, you lean over and hit the top of it with your clenched fist. Neil looks a bit shocked, maybe a bit afraid that you just broke it completely, but then it turns into a happy grin as the VCR turns on.

“It’s a Christmas miracle.” He says in his charming boyish way. 

“I just earned my wings from that.” You joke back and stand up, then hold the bottle of wine out in front of him. “Oh, here. I wasn’t sure what kind of wine you liked so I kind of eyeballed it but… Yeah. Merry Christmas, Neil.”

“Oh, thank you. Red?” He says with a small grin as he takes it from your hands. “It looks nice… Thank you. Oh! I have a, uh, gift for you too. You’ll like it, come on.” He nods his head to the office and walks in front of you.

 

His office was lightly decorated with a small Christmas tree on the corner of his desk. You watch as he opens a drawer and shifts through it for a minute. He pulls out a crudely wrapped small box, the same shape as a VHS, you can’t help but blush at the gesture. He hands it to you and you take it, looking at his poor gift-wrapping abilities. It’s sweet though, making you feel a little guilty about buying him a meager bottle of wine. He tells you to unwrap it and you do, pulling the wrapping apart revealing a tape of Vivre Sa Vie, you had been looking for it for months now and that pesky blush just got worse from the sentimental gift.

“Neil,” You say and look up at him. “You didn’t have to do this… Thank you so much. I’ve wanted for this ages now.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waves his hand. “I know you’ve been looking for it and you’ve been such a great help here lately.”

“Thanks.” You say again and smile. You want to lean in and kiss him on the cheek but you decide against it. “Well, we should probably go out there and start the movie, yeah?”

He nods and you both take your leave into the main floor of the shop. You sit down on the couch and watch as Neil does a small introductory to the movie like he always does at events like this. After he starts the movie, he opens the bottle of wine pours a glass for himself, and then pours you one. After he hands you the filled glass, he sits next to you and you feel his thigh against yours, making it hard to concentrate on the movie.

Somehow you managed the whole two-hour runtime without dying from some sort of sexually frustrated-related stroke. The wine didn’t help either. You were a little tipsy, Neil having poured too much in your glass, and being near him for so long made it clear to you that you liked Neil a lot more than you originally thought. When the characters Mary and George in It’s a Wonderful Life kiss like they need each other, you find yourself looking at Neil through your peripheral view. Once the credits were rolling, people were starting to get up and either leave or refill their glasses. Neil stood up to say goodbye to some people who were leaving and you could breathe for a moment, not having to feel his thigh against yours. After a moment of contemplation, you decided to leave, it would be the best option with how you were feeling. You knew that he was cute enough to make you do something stupid and with the right amount of wine, you would probably act on it.

“Leaving already?” Neil asked as he saw you put on your coat.

 

“Yeah, it was fun but… I should probably go home and get some sleep.” You said.

“Aw come on, it's not even nine yet…” He said with his best puppy dog eyes. “We were gonna Eyes Wide Shut next. You should stay. What else are you going to do?”

You went back in forth in your head for a moment, but in the end, you knew you were going to stay. How could you deny his pretty blue eyes? He was right, after all, you would go home and probably just watch a movie by yourself. 

“Alright,” You say with a small grin and shrug off your coat. “Just one more movie…”

“Great.” He says and then takes your empty glass. “I’ll get you another.”

You wanted to say no thank you but he was already grabbing the bottle and pouring another, thankfully not overfilling it like last time. Those who were staying, which weren’t many, all retreated to the couch and Neil sat back down next to you after putting the next film in the VCR. You tried to focus all your thoughts on the movie this time but your mind still wandered. You thought of his lips and his hands instead of the movie. 

This film was just as painful as the first, all because of Neil. You swore he moved closer to you while the picture played out. You finished the glass halfway through and decided against another, feeling a little hazy. Amid your hazy and lustful thoughts, you realize more people are leaving and get up to say goodbye. After you say your farewells, you realize it’s just Neil and you in the store. You feel awkward and grab your coat.

“Wait.” He said quickly, making you stop what you were doing. “I hate to ask but… Uh, could you help me clean up the place a bit? I just don’t want to have to deal with it tomorrow morning.”

You agree and set your coat down. After all, this will probably only take an extra half hour. You don’t mind spending more time with Neil either, you’re just worried you’ll ruin the friendship, despite not knowing him that long. You start by picking up any cups and he starts to sweep. You offer to mop but he says he’ll do it tomorrow. It ended up only taking twenty minutes and you both are okay with the results. It’s not spotless, but it will do for now. You stand next to him after you finish and then look up at him.

“I had a great time tonight, Neil.” You tell him. “And thanks for the tape. I don’t have to return this one, right?” You joke.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head. “I hope you like it.”

“I will, I’m sure of it.” You say. “Well, goodnight.”

“Wait.” He says and lightly grabs your bicep as you start to walk away. “I don’t know if it's the wine or the whole "sentimental-ness" of this holiday but… You look pretty and I was hoping I could, uh, kiss you.” The way he phrases it makes it sound like a question and you blush at the request. 

“We can chalk it up to the sentimental nature of the holiday and dissect it another day.” You say teasingly and walk up to him. “You’re in luck though, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a while.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He puts his hands on your waist and kisses your lips at first softly, but then much rougher as it goes on. You both stumble for a moment as you try to find a solid surface to lean on. He lands on the back of the couch, leaning on it as he pulls you closer in your kiss. You try to keep up his kisses but they seem too quick to try to find a tempo. He squirms as he kisses you sloppily. His hips rut against you as one of his hands holds the small of your back and the other settles on the back of your neck. 

“You’re so pretty.” He mumbles between kisses. “Ever since I met you I wanted to kiss you like this.”

You can’t think of anything to say except little moans of praise. Your hand slinks between the two of you and finds his fly which you unzip and sneak your hand into. He grunts as you palm him through his boxers and eventually, pull him out. Your hands send shivers down his spine. He had thought about this for ages, how you would be in such an intimate moment. He never thought you would be so willing and so open to the idea of pleasing him like this. He keeps grunting into your mouth as your hand works up and down his cock, pre-cum spilling from the tip and on your hands. Based on how sloppy his kissing is getting, you don’t think he’ll last long. 

You kiss him harder and apply more pressure to his hand job, making him whine as his breathing gets shallower. His hips start to buck into your hand, wanting to get as much pleasure as he can through you. You think for a moment to bend down and replace your hands with your mouth but you like how he kisses you much more. You don’t notice his grip on you tighten before he bites down on your lip and muffles his moan. You feel something hot on your leg through your tights. His breathing slows and he comes to his senses.

“Shit,” He says and pulls back, looking down at the sheer tights you’re wearing. “I’m sorry. I can buy you new ones! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” You giggle and look down at your now-ruined tights. “They were like, two dollars. Don’t worry about it. Just a little gross now.”

“A little?” He asks with an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll make it up to you. How about we go get dinner together this week? I’ll pay, obviously.”

“If you wanted to take me out to dinner, you didn’t have to come on my leg. You could’ve just asked.” You tease and then lean in to peck him on the lips. “I’d like that a lot though. I like you a lot too.”

“I like you too.” He says, blushing at the elementary confession. “Let me get you a towel. I’m sorry.” He adds and retracts from you to go find some way to clean up his mess.

It is probably the weirdest Christmas you’ve had, never before experiencing a love confession or for that much, getting your tights ruined by a guy's cum, but you feel hopeful weirdly. You feel hopeful because of Neil, come this time next year, you’ll be with him you hope. Maybe it’s not the perfect way to start a relationship but it is the start of one. One you’re optimistic about. 

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hiii , I just come with a last idea for this event , I was listening to "I want to live" , Astarion's song from Baldur's Gate 3 and I thought about "There's more to do, if we can only live. The clock won't stop and this is what we get." , like it would maybe be a good prompt ... for Rebels!Gregor x reader , please 😊

Thank you for this wonderful event 💚

@griffedeloup Thank you for your request, and it was such a good prompt to end this event.

I want to say thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, and submitted a request. Thank you for making this event successful. Love oo

Let Me Count The Ways

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, cuteness, kissing, discussion of cute butt, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |   AO3 Link | Quote Roulette

Gregor opened his eyes as he looked at the ceiling, reminding himself he was on a transport ship. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes, it had been way too long since he slept in one of these types of bunks. He shifted to move but stopped when he felt your arm gripping his waist. 

He chuckled lightly, even in a tiny bed such as this you didn’t want him moving away from you. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “Cyare…” he whispered.

There was a slight smile as you hummed in your sleep.

“Cyare…”

You hummed again in annoyance.

He pressed another kiss to the top of your head, “I need you to wake up, love. Need to use the bathroom.”

“Ugh… fine…” you shifted away from him, “meanie.”

“Hey, blame my bladder. It’s what happens when you’re old.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I mean that you’re stealing my heater away.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Better a cold bed than a wet one.” He laughed getting up and heading to the fresher.

As you watched him leave, you couldn’t help smiling as you saw his cute butt disappear into the fresher, you decided to get up as well. You grabbed your flight suit and waited for him to finish in the refresher so you could shower. There were many things about Gregor that made you love him, but what probably made you love him most was the fact he never stopped trying to do more. Even when he had amnesia and was stuck on the god awful planet, as soon as he regained his memories he didn’t hesitate to do more. 

“What’s got you so pensive?” Gregor chuckled as he sat down beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you into his side.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about how much I love you. And the reasons I love you.”

“Oh, really? Well tell me, what are the reasons you love me? I’m all excited to hear.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Well let’s see. There’s the way you smile.”

“Oh so my smile makes your little heart beat faster.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled, “There’s also the way you look at me.”

He let out a chuckle that implied more than he said, “How do I look at you?”

“As though I’m the only one you see.”

“You are the only one I see. No one else is even remotely close to your beauty, your sense of humour or even your kindness. No one else makes me half as happy as you make me.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and lips, “See, that’s another reason I love you. But what I admire most of all, is the fact you never give up. You don’t back down. Ever. You always try and do the best you can regardless of the odds or what you’re facing.”

Gregor pressed his forehead against yours, gently cupping your cheek, “I didn’t think it was possible but I do believe I love you more.”

You giggled as you leaned into his touch.

“You my dear, give me too much credit though,” he clarified, “I’ve only done what I needed to do. After all, there's more to do, if we can only live. Regardless of what we may want, the clock won't stop and this is what we get. One life to live, one life to make the most of. And I’m glad I did, because if I hadn’t given it my all, I wouldn’t be here with you today.”

He moved his head back and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You, my love, are the best gift this galaxy has ever given me, and I’ll always be grateful for having you by my side. Always.”

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