#and sad for us women having to deal with men not having an ounce of respect and care for women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

line without a hook.

mingi x reader; lovers to strangers au

word count: 13k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death)

you could personally never understand one’s desire to run as far away from their hometown as they could.

maybe it’s because you’ve had the privilege of growing up in a beautiful, prosperous place, with cozy winters, amazing festivals and snowfalls on the frozen lake before spring came and melted it away.

maybe it’s because you have fond memories tied back to this picturesque place, shops and restaurants surrounding the lake in a way that almost seemed too magical to really exist.

you’ve met so many different people purely because of that sight, men and women of different cultures and backgrounds always so eager to take in your hometown’s natural beauty.

fortunately for you, the lake ran right through your yard and acted as a place of solace where you could get away from everything in the busy, touristy town.

a place you went when you were feeling happy, sad, angry or when, truthfully, you didn’t know how to feel.

it’s also where you first met your boyfriend, one of the many come and go visitors, who introduced himself as mingi.

except he had walked right through your backyard like he owned the place, a small smile on his handsome face as he took in the sight of the frozen water.

he looked at it with such wonder and fascination, like he’d never seen anything like it before in his life; and you can remember that night, even with how you’re feeling right now, that he looked at you the same way.

it’s the only thing that reminds you, at some point, you two must have really loved each other.

two years ago - december 13th

you were hunched over your desk finishing the last of your final essay, only a page left before you could throw every syllabus away and rejoice at having two months of winter break.

it was a chilly night but you couldn’t help but be outside on the porch, a big warm sweater and fuzzy socks on as you read over your work so far.

you’d gotten used to the sounds of nature, the chirping of birds, pitter patter of animal feet and even the loud, slightly terrifying barks of deer.

but the footsteps crunching on the leaves in your driveway definitely weren’t those of chipmunks or rabbits, your strained neck craning over to see a tall figure walking right past your porch and deep into your backyard.

strangely enough, whether it be the frigid temperatures getting to you or the stress of finishing this paper, you weren’t panicked; the man technically wasn’t even on your property, he was right outside of it along the grass that turned to decking.

so you continued to make revisions and edit your paper silently, your eyes fluttering up ever so often to check on the mysterious, tall figure. his shoulders were broad and his hair was messy, that much you could tell from your spot on the porch.

when five minutes past, then ten, then twenty, and he had still yet to move or realize he was in someone’s yard, you decided to investigate - because one, how long could he really stare at this frozen mass of water and two, your head was pounding from looking at this stupid document.

so without an ounce of fear or hesitation, you wrapped your sweater tighter around your body and made your way down to the man.

your slippers were loose so the last remaining bits of snow were seeping into your socks, a slight grimace on your face when the coldness touched your skin.

the sound of crunching snow caused him to turn around, his lips quirking up into a small smile when you came into view.

it was when you got closer that you saw just how attractive he was, pale skin that glowed, plump lips that were slightly chapped and messy hair that looked even better up close.

he looked different than most locals and tourists around here, many of them pastel wearing men who wouldn’t dare stick an earring in their skin.

but the man in front of you had a completely different vibe, earrings and chains and a gray t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest despite the freezing temperatures tonight.

a few minutes of silence pass, neither him nor you concerned about filling it; it seemed as if he could’ve stared at the lake just as long as you could’ve wondered why the hell he liked it so much.

“aren’t you cold?”

more silence passed and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear your blurted out question.

but then you discover he did when he looked at you with a smirk, the snow crackling underneath him as he shifts to take in your big sweater and pink slippers.

“no.”

it’s a short and simple response but his voice is somehow incredibly warm, looking at you with a twinge of soft light in his eyes before he opens his mouth again.

“why? are you?”

a confused smile pulls at your lips as you shake your head, looking over his bare (muscular) arms conspicuously.

“no. but i’m not wearing a t-shirt in december.”

he sends a smile your way, his large body turning allowing you to fully take in just how big he is. you feel incredibly small next to him and it should probably make you nervous - a large, stranger unwelcomed in your yard and staring down at you.

but there’s a weird sense of tranquility over both of you in this moment, the moon shining off the frozen lake as his gaze meets yours.

“well that’s a good thing,” he hums, your eyebrow quirking up before he continues. “because i don’t have a jacket to give you.”

a surprised chuckle leaves your mouth that has a smile spreading across your face and he feels his own doing the same at the sight of it.

“what makes you think i’d take a jacket from a stranger?”

his eyebrow raises after a few seconds of pondering the rhetorical question, his large hand suddenly coming between your bodies.

“my name’s mingi. i’m staying a few houses over at my aunt’s for the holidays.”

your lips purse together as you wrack your brain for which neighbor it could possibly be, remembering that the woman who brought you left over lasagna for thanksgiving mentioned her nephew was coming for christmas and new years.

she didn’t mention that her nephew looked like this or that he went onto the property of anyone he pleased.

“i’m y/n,” you say, taking your smaller hand in his cold one before a teasing smiles crosses your face. “and we’re actually standing in my backyard. so thank you for trespassing so politely, mingi.”

his eyes widen as an embarrassed look crosses his face, the small hint of pink on his cheeks just as endearing as it is humorous.

“i- i’m so sorry, oh, my god,” he chuckles out, your cold hands still intertwined. “my aunt said i could take the first road i saw to get to the lake. that there was a better view down here than from her house.”

and you can see in his eyes the exact moment his next sentence came into his mind, like he thought it was gonna be the smoothest and coolest thing he’d ever said.

“and it looks like she was right.”

the loud laugh that bubbles out of you is uncontrollable, mingi’s quickly following as his cheeks turn even more pink.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself,” he mumbles sheepishly, sounding completely unapologetic as he finally pulls his hand away from yours; you try not to think about how much colder your hand feels now, quickly sticking it in the pocket of your sweater to compensate.

“right,” you quip, a tiny giggle leaving you as you crane your neck to meet his gaze. “but really, you should probably get a jacket if you’re gonna be out here a lot. you don’t wanna get sick and it can get pretty cold here.”

“will do,” he hums, his eyes roaming yours and making your heart jump in your chest; he really is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

there’s a few beats of silence as he cranes his neck to look out at the lake, eyes roaming what seems like every piece of frozen ice and snowy tree surrounding it.

“my aunt actually told me people sometimes skate on it.”

“yeah,” you confirm with a nod, taking the time to look at the beauty you take for granted every day. “it’s thick enough this year. sometime we’re not allowed.”

“cool,” he says with a smile, a slight shiver running through him that makes you frown. “so... can i come back here to do that?” he asks, his eyes hopeful and soft as he looks at you. “or should i use the real path?”

your eyebrows pull together at his question, confusion covering your face but only meeting his cocky, playful one.

“are you asking if we can skate together?”

he bites down on his lip so he doesn’t smile larger, his tongue peeking out just before his teeth make contact.

“yeah,” he hums lowly, the deep tone of his voice sending butterflies through your stomach. “i guess i am.”

your lips quirk to the side as you weigh out the pros and cons.

you’re on your own a lot and definitely miss talking to someone.

he’s attractive and funny and seemingly nice enough.

you know his aunt and can easily confirm his story, the chances of him being a murderer who moseyed into town considerably low.

the only con you can think of is falling on your ass in front of him and even that it isn’t such a deal breaker.

so you smile at him and nod your head, a melodic “okay,” leaving your mouth that has him smiling back at you just as sweetly.

present day:

you knew going to this dinner with mingi was gonna end in disaster.

you were both too on edge after your fight this morning, past the point of screaming and yelling for hours that, now, you’ll exchange a few harsh words at each other before falling silent.

you’ve learned that the tense silence after a fight is worse than screaming and yelling.

at least with that, it seems as if there’s still some passion there. there’s words being exchanged and feelings coming to the surface that both people feel motivated enough to express.

but with the silence, you’re both bottling it up.

deeming it useless and letting it brew and brew and brew until one of you goes completely over the edge - and more often than not, that person is him.

the car ride over is no better, not even the radio playing to distract you both from the building tension in the air.

your friends know immediately that something is up, yunho eyeing mingi and san eyeing you; yunho, san, seonghwa, and wooyoung had been your friends since elementary school.

you’d been through a lot with them and have seen each other at all your highs and lows.

throughout your two-year relationship with mingi, him and yunho had grown especially close and it was sweet to see; you knew it was important for mingi to have another friend in a place he didn’t grow up in and you were genuinely happy they created a great friendship.

“hey guys!” wooyoung chirped happily, already chowing down on the chips and salsa in the middle of the table. “how is everyone?”

and like he’s almost oblivious to the tension in the room, mingi only mumbles a grumbled “fine,” before he starts happily babbling again. you try a little harder to put up on a happy front, giving wooyoung a small smile as you talk to him about your last semester of school.

as the dinner goes on, appetizers turning to meals and meals turning to alcohol, mingi downs sangria after sangria before he becomes a lot more chatty.

“oh, shit, there he is,” wooyoung smiles happily, a drunken flush to his face as he pokes his arm playfully. “you were scaring me for a hot second. looking all pissed off and shit.”

“that’s because i was pissed off. still am, if i’m being honest, woo,” mingi says, a conniving hint in his tone as he finishes the last of his drink.

your eyes immediately move to him and you’re quick to narrow them, hoping and praying he doesn’t start round two in this public restaurant right now; but apparently, that’s exactly what he plans on doing.

“what’s with the face, y/n?”

mingi spits your name out like it’s the last thing he wants to say, a quietly snapped “nothing,” leaving your mouth.

san and yunho look to each other immediately, concern on both their faces as they feel the tension start creeping back up.

they knew something was wrong the second you both came in, have known things have been off between you two for months, and it was even more obvious when you immediately took the seats a few spots away from each other.

“nothing?” he asks, his voice deep and gravely due to his anger and the alcohol. “because it sure looks like you wanna say something.”

“i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“you never do, do you, babe?” he asks, his humorless laugh and vindictive tone making your skin prickle.

“did you even miss me?”

your eyes meet his from across the table when he finally speaks, your eyebrow raising as you two stare at each other blankly.

he had left two nights ago after telling you he needed space, not hearing a word from him until he came barreling through the door just a few moments ago at seven a.m.

you’d just gotten up to make yourself coffee, plagued with worry and upset over your fight and his lack of communication.

“maybe if you looked at your phone, you’d know.”

because how could he think you wouldn’t miss him? how could he think you’re actually okay with him leaving after every fight? not hearing from him for a day or two while you stay in this apartment and let your mind go off into every worst case scenario.

a humorless laugh can only leave him as he shakes his head.

“of course you’re putting the blame back on me. i just can’t make you happy, can i, y/n?”

“you staying after a fight would make me happy. but of course, you can’t do that for me, can you?”

he doesn’t say anything and instead just clenches his jaw painfully tight.

you watch it tick dangerously and instead of feeling anger or sadness, you just feel utterly defeated; you don’t know how many times you guys have had this exact conversation.

a fight will happen.

he yells, you cry.

you just want him to see your tears and obvious pain and stop the yelling.

hold you and kiss your hair and mumble that you guys are gonna figure this out and get passed it.

he leaves, you stay silent.

he just wants you to fight for him a little.

call him out on his shit and prove to his insecure self that you still love and care for him, even though he’s a dick. ask him to please stay because he wants to figure this out and get passed it.

but then he comes back and you’re both okay for a bit, just for the cycle to repeat itself over and over.

“is that why you leave, mingi?” you speak again, looking at him curiously as you shake your head.

“make me sit here and worry about you for days, while you purposely ignore me, just so i can tell you i miss you? is that what you want?”

the words are on the tip of his tongue. that yes, that’s exactly what he wants from you.

but the words are also on the tip of your tongue. that you want his first instinct to be to stay. to stay here and talk things out with you before immediately jumping up to flee.

he wants you to tell him you miss him but you want him to tell you he loves you, that he loves you enough to stay when you guys fight; but right now, neither of you are even sure if that’s true anymore.

“i don’t know about y/n, you guys,” mingi says suddenly at dinner, the drunken slur to his voice evident to everyone. “i love her but sometimes.... i think i actually fucking hate her.”

you feel your heart sink when those words leave his mouth, your face dropping just as the boys call out his name roughly.

“mingi, what the fuck,” san growls from across the table; but the boy is completely unbothered, shrugging his broad shoulders as he looks directly at you.

“how ‘bout you, babe? how do you feel about me?” he asks, leaned back against his chair like he’s completely calm, cool and collected.

“i’m not having this discussion with you right now.”

“you never want to have this discussion,” he mocks, the anger and rage in his eyes only making your blood boil even more.

“i’m getting tired of it, y/n. i’m getting tired of all this shit.”

his voice is raising and you’re becoming increasingly embarrassed, knowing that the last place for this blowout fight is in front of your friends in a public setting.

“mingi, this really isn’t the place to-”

“shut up, yunho, we’re gonna finally-”

but you’re not intending on doing anything, already feeling humiliated and belittled as you get up from your seat and walk toward the door.

you leave your bag and jacket so the boys know you’re not leaving, hoping and praying that your drunk asshole of a boyfriend follows you outside; and sure enough, two minutes later, you smell his familiar cologne when the door opens.

neither of you say anything for the first few seconds, him leaned against the wall and you facing him with your hands on your hips.

“what’s your problem?”

it’s the first thing you think to ask, looking at him with such concern and defeat in your eyes.

you hope he can see it but you’re sure he can’t, far too absorbed in whatever he’s been going through for the past few months to notice.

“i don’t have a problem.”

“you obviously do,” you snap, your voice raising as you take a step closer to him.

“you just embarrassed me in front of everyone and you’re acting like a fucking child. we could’ve had this conversation at the house instead of not speaking for days.”

“why? so you could just turn shit around on me or ignore what i’m saying?” he snaps back, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you. “maybe we need an outside source to listen.”

“not our friends, mingi, and not at a public dinner when you’re getting drunk.”

“you always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snaps, his jaw clenching and eyes flaring as he continues to peer down at you.

“and it’s always on me. when we tried to talk this morning, you blew me off, too, y/n. it’s like you don’t ever wanna have this discussion.”

“because i don’t know what you want me to say, mingi. how many times do i have to repeat myself and tell you i don’t know what you want from me?”

“have you ever thought that maybe that’s the fucking problem, y/n? that after all of this, you still don’t know what i want from you? are you fucking stupid?”

“are you fucking stupid?” you yell back, the suppressed anger and rage you knew was brewing boiling over right here and now.

“you want me to tell you that i miss you when you leave every other week, mingi? why would i tell someone that who could give a shit? i could tell you i miss you or that i’ll miss you and you’ll still fucking leave me.”

“how do you know?” he snaps, “you’ve never tried!”

“i’ve never tried?” you yelp, tears of frustration burning your eyes as you look at him.

“what’s me texting you when you leave like a little bitch every single time? or me obviously worrying when you pull that stupid shit over and over? i’ve been trying mingi and you don’t care! you leave me crying alone every single time!”

he meets your gaze with fire in his eyes and you can only stare back with tears in yours, waiting for him to scream something before he decides to kick over the metal garbage can a few feet away from you.

you watch as it clatters against the side walk, a loud, deep “fuck!” leaving him as you watch him blankly. his chest is heaving and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with himself right now but you also don’t know anymore.

because you’re shaking inside and out and feel like you wanna throw up, knowing that right now you both look like the worst type of couple; but it’s nothing compared to how you feel, how even though you don’t want to, you can’t stop yourself from acting out on these negative feelings.

“and if i never try, mingi, then just leave again,” you say, tears blurring your vision and a lump growing in your throat. “you can stay and come home with me tonight. or you can leave. at this point, i’m too tired to care.”

you weren’t surprised to go home alone that night.

watch as seonghwa and yunho helped your boyfriend to their car and promised that he’d be back in a few days; you were only able to sleep soundly that night because you knew he was safe with them.

but it didn’t stop you from crying yourself to sleep that night, the night after that and the night after that for the next week; the same would’ve probably happened the next night, too, at least for a little bit, had you not heard your front door open just after midnight.

you were getting in one last episode of your drama when mingi returned home, craning your neck back to see him lazily kicking off his shoes at the front door.

his head looked up to meet your gaze, the glow of the tv hitting him just enough to tell you he looked like shit.

he had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled messily, like he hadn’t washed it since you last saw him. his face was sunken and pale as if he’d been away in the wild for months opposed to his friend’s house for just a little over a week.

but when he’s away from you, this is what happens each and every time - he can’t sleep or eat or function properly.

he’s only plagued with the thought of you, memories running through his mind or constantly wondering what you’re doing. if you’re safe and feeling okay or if something bad is gonna happen to you because he’s not there.

the couch dips next to you before you feel his skin graze yours, a quietly mumbled “hey,” like he just came in from work casually spoken through the air.

you crane your neck up at him to look in his sunken eyes, an uncontrollable frown on your face as you swipe your finger across his purple skin.

it’s the softest touch he’s received in a week and he’s missed it more than he cares to admit. shutting his eyes and smiling slightly when he hears you mumble “hi” back.

you bask in each other’s comfort and warmth for the rest of the episode in silence, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm wound tightly around you until the tv screen falls black.

you two walk into bed and he pulls you down with him, your head falling to his chest and his hands in your hair. you moan against him sleepily and it’s a sound he’s missed so dearly, tightening his hold on you as he feels his body immediately relax.

you’re both completely comfortable and at ease, days of worrying finally calmed as you’re beside one another again.

but even with this comfort, even with the familiar feel of each other’s skin and warmth soothing both of you, you know it won’t be enough.

because you still don’t say you missed him and he still doesn’t tell you he loves you.

a year and 11 months ago - january 10th

you weren’t sure if it was possible to fall in love in less than a month but it really felt as if you and mingi did.

from the moment you saw him two days after your initial meeting, skating together and braving the frozen lake together, your connection was immediate.

you’d spent everyday with each other, frolicking through the town in the afternoon before going back to your house at night.

you usually spent it cuddled up on the couch or making food in your kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist before tossing you up on the counter playfully.

“you didn’t strike me as a chef,” you tell him, watching him stir a pot of noodles with a content look on his face.

“well, i didn’t strike you as a rapper either,” he says, a smirk on his face as a giggle leaves your mouth.

you learned that mingi was an aspiring rapper, him and his friend hongjoong trying to get their foot in the door for the past year. you listened to a few of their songs and even got a live performance from him, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you watched him.

in a fit of absolute astonishment, because you didn’t think mingi could get any more attractive, you blurted out that he didn’t seem like a rapper. that his personality was too “cute and charming” despite the deep growl to his raps and voice.

“i told you just personality wise,” you whine with a pout, reaching your hand out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “but appearance wise, absolutely. you’re very tough. very cool looking. i’m scared of you.”

“you’re making this a lot worse for yourself, baby,” he hums lowly, another giggle leaving your mouth as you bite down on your lip.

“did your friend hear back from that producer yet?” you ask him curiously, your legs criss-crossed as you sit on the counter and peer up at him.

he looks over to see you staring at him all wide-eyed and interested, a soft, happy glint in your gaze that makes his heart pull in his chest.

he hasn’t even known you for a month but he’s never been this happy before.

he’s never had anyone be there for him the way you’ve been, dedicating their time to him and being so actively interested and supportive of his decisions; it also doesn’t help that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both inside and out, that made him extend his trip a week longer.

he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to you yet and he’s still not sure if he can; he’s grown incredibly attached to you and it’s something he’s never felt before.

something all consuming and magical that’s making him incredibly vulnerable.

“not yet,” he mumbles, his eyes roaming your face.

your eyebrows pull together when you notice the way he’s looking at you, soft and sweet with a fondness that makes your heart flutter dangerously.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

a smile crosses his face as he lowers the heat on the stove, caging your body in and cocking his head to the side. he bites down on his lip when he sees your eyes widen, a large hand coming up to push pieces of hair out of your face.

“because i’m happy i met you.”

a small, touched smile pulls at your lips as you peer up at him, raising your own hand to smooth out the chain around his neck.

your fingers brush against his warm skin and it’s like there’s electricity coursing through both of you, your bodies close and hot breath wafting together.

“i’m happy i met you too, mingi.”

his heart soars at the way you say his name, eyes falling to your lips as he presses himself closer to you. you push yourself against the cabinets, swallowing the lump in your throat when you follow his gaze.

your tongue peeks out to lick over them unconsciously, your own eyes falling to his lips. you feel your stomach swoop dangerously, wanting so badly to feel them on yours - they’re one of the first things you noticed about him.

“y/n?”

“hm?” you hum, your eyes lingering on his mouth before hazily meeting his eyes; and there you see it, the soft intensity you’ve yet to grow used to.

you’ve seen this look from him more times than you can remember despite the short time you’ve known each other.

on the lake when you two were skating, grasping each other’s hands and giggling as you tried to keep yourselves from falling back.

in town when your hands bumped and you’d stop dead in your tracks to look at each other, completely unaware of the people around you giving each other knowing looks.

on the couch when you’d allow your head to rest on his shoulder, cuddling closer to him because the weather is really cold for january and you need body heat.

but it’s never been as strong as it now.

your heart’s never been beating this fast and you haven’t been able to feel his own pounding against his chest. probably because he was nervous to ask-

“can i kiss you?”

neither of you can remember what happened after he uttered those words.

just that one minute, he said it and the next, your mouths were connected. parting on one another’s as he completely caged your body with his.

your arms wound around his neck and he hummed contently against your mouth, slipping his tongue in when you started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he had half the mind to turn off the stove before carrying you to the couch, your legs wound tightly around his waist as every hint of desire and want overtook you.

he plopped himself down as you situated yourself on his lap, lips never disconnecting. you moaned against him when you felt his body underneath yours, tongues colliding and mouths pulled into smiles.

his hands gripped onto your hips gently, pulling your body closer to his as your kisses grew hungrier and more intense.

you finally pulled apart for air with heaving chests and red, puffy lips, your eyes meeting and every hint of vulnerability and longing in them.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he finally says softly, almost whispering it in fear that someone else would hear.

but this house is empty. it always is and it has been for quite some time.

until you met him and he completely changed your life.

now there were two pairs of shoes at the door and two empty cups in the sink. there was someone to talk to and someone to be in the silence with.

because you’ve learned over this past month that even a silence with someone else is way better than the silence of being alone.

“me... me too,” you admit shyly, a warm blush creeping up on your face. “i’m... really, really happy you’re here, mingi.”

his eyes widen when he sees tears well up in your eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown as he brings his hands to your face.

but you only shake your head before he can comment on it, placing your hand atop his before connecting your lips again.

he meets the kiss with the fervor you need, everything about it soft and sweet and passionate. like you guys know time is running out and you need to fit it all in.

“that producer got back to me and wants to meet in person so you’ll be home next week, yeah?” hongjoong asked mingi over the phone, the boy laid out on his bed a few days later.

he can only keep replaying the memory of you in his mind, the tone of your voice and the teary look in your eye when you told him how happy you were that he’s been here.

there was a certain type of sadness behind you that he hasn’t been able to shake, making it incredibly hard for him to pick a day to just pack up his car and go.

“i... uh. i don’t know, yet.”

“what?” hongjoong asked.

him and mingi had been waiting to meet producers for months, getting either put on a list or straight up rejected. and now when they have a chance, “you don’t know yet?”

mingi licks over his lips as he hears the disbelief in his friend’s voice, knowing that hongjoong won’t be able to believe this. they’ve been waiting for this moment ever since they were in high school and had the dream of rapping as a duo.

he was only supposed to be here for a few days and now it was almost a month. what could possibly be keeping him there? what could possibly have made mingi-

“what could you possibly not know, mingi? we’ve been waiting for this moment for years. you even extended your trip for a bullshit reason thinking i’d really buy it.”

“okay but my aunt really did need help around the house...” he mumbles because yes, she needed help around the house as she redid her bathroom but she was quick to hire professionals so, technically not a lie.

“so what, what’s your excuse this time? did you meet some chick?”

there’s a silence that stretches over the phone for what feels like hours, mingi attempting to find any words before hongjoong lets out a loud groan.

“a girl? mingi, are you fucking kidding me?”

“i really like her, hongjoong,” mingi tells his friend, a sweet genuineness and innocence in his deep tone. “i really, really like her and i... i don’t think i can leave her yet.”

he reluctantly opens up to hongjoong about you, telling him that you’re in school and live alone in this quiet little lake town. that you and him have been spending every second together and he’s never felt this way about anyone before.

“i’m happy for you, man, i really am,” hongjoong says, never having heard his friend talk like this before. “but i mean... is she worth changing your plans? what the hell is there for you?”

he wants to say that you. you’re there.

the girl he’s known for less than a month but has gotten him so tight around her finger - and once he leaves, will still be here.

except she’ll be within the walls of her house all alone again, in a town based off people coming and going where she’s never seemed to have a stable relationship with anyone.

where she now knows what it’s like to spend every day with someone and look forward to their company every morning and night. spend hours talking until the sun rises and sleep until it’s dark out.

“i wouldn’t be changing my plans that much. i still have our music, hongjoong. we can still do shit even if i live here.”

“live there?!? hongjoong blurts out, “you’ve been there for a less than a month, dude, that’s fucking crazy. you’ve barely know her and you’re gonna move there?”

“i can’t leave her.”

he didn’t think at the time that it was crazy. he didn’t think he’d ever come to regret that decision because, at the time, he really couldn’t imagine leaving you.

he couldn’t picture himself hugging you goodbye and telling you that you’d keep in touch via texting and facetime.

he couldn’t picture going back home with a genuine smile on his face when it felt as if he left behind something, someone, would could make him the happiest he’s ever felt.

he couldn’t picture that he’d ever come to resent you because when he told you he was gonna consider staying in town longer, a bit more permanently, the smile that lit up your face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“really?” you smile, jumping up from your spot on the couch and running over to him.

you’re so smiley and happy and bouncy until you’re not, your face dropping ever so slightly when you look over his face.

“but wait... what about the producer? did he ever answer?”

“he did. hongjoong’s meeting with him tomorrow.”

your eyes widen at the news but he’s quick to cut you off, bend down and press a long, lingering kiss to your lips before scooping you up into his arms.

“but i told him there was something better for me here.”

present day:

he wasn’t sure when the resentment started.

he just knew that, one minute he loved you, and the next, he started to question everything.

it could’ve been from seeing hongjoong’s success, album after album and talk of him all over social media right in his face every day.

it could’ve been his lack of success, pursuing a music degree via online school while still keeping up with his previously established career as a rapper; it was enough to get the bills paid and keep his name lingering around but that’s all it was now.

it could’ve been that all of his passion was gone and he blamed you for that; because if it weren’t for you, he’d be with hongjoong now. he’d be making money and feeling inspired and at the peak of his creativity and motivation.

but he loves you, right? he loves you more than he’s loved anyone in the world and he made the right decision.

“sometimes i question if i made the right decision.”

it was a relativity quiet night for you and mingi, the past few days calm and uneventful, so you knew a fight was bound to happen soon.

and with that statement, it seemed as if the night was quickly headed in that direction.

“what do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your textbook.

he was sat on the love seat opposite you, computer in his lap and a beer on the side table as he watched you. he’d been wordlessly watching you all night and you hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

now, you can see, he might’ve been watching you with disdain.

“i mean i sometimes wonder if i made the right decision in staying here. just... so quickly not accepting that producer’s offer with hongjoong’s.”

his words hurt you more than you let on, your stomach sinking and knotting as you let his words sink in.

you had asked him for weeks after he made that decision if he was sure.

if something he worked so hard on and something he looked forward to for so long was something was worth giving up.

and anytime you asked, he’d say the same thing.

“you’re worth it.”

you wonder now if he said it so many times to qualm your ever present worries or to convince himself. tell himself over and over again that, yes this girl is worth staying here and no, i won’t come to resent her.

it’s something you worried about in the beginning but faded with time.

because your love grew stronger and you both became more secure. your relationship was the closest thing to perfect you’d ever experienced.

but not now.

now it’s a fucking disaster.

“where did that even come from?”

you can hear to your own ears how shaky and unsure your voice sounds. it’s filling you with as much shame as it does embarrassment, knowing that you can’t even talk to your own boyfriend openly and honestly.

without feeling upset, like you know you have to walk on eggshells or can’t express how much he’s been hurting you.

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking,” he hums, taking a swig of his beer as he adjusts himself on the couch.

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, only humming lowly as you nod your head.

you lick over your lips as you look back down uncomfortably, blankly staring at the words of your textbook. your brain can’t absorb any of the terms or phrases on the page, the sinking, awful feeling in your stomach taking over.

you can’t even remember how long you’ve felt like this.

when butterflies turned to this gut wrenching, awful feeling.

like the feeling before a plane takes off or you have a presentation to do or when the one person you’ve loved in this world has decided they don’t want you anymore.

“i stayed for you.”

the words you feared hearing pierce the air and you hold back a shaky breath, biting the inside of your cheek so harshly you’re hit with the metallic taste blood.

you look up and see his eyes narrowed in on you, tears burning the back of yours as you beg them not to fall.

because you can’t keep crying in front of him just for him to ignore you. to just watch you lose it with a blank look in his eyes, instead of holding you or attempting to soothe you.

“i couldn’t leave you alone in your house,” he begins, like the words he’s rationalizing in his head are coming out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“i wasn’t ready to leave you yet and i didn’t even think twice about how i would feel in the future. because i was so fucking consumed by you, y/n.”

there’s an obvious and palpable pain in his voice and it makes your gut wrench even more; you hate that he’s in pain but you’re in pain, too. you were in pain before him and now you’re in pain because of him.

“i’m still consumed by you but i feel...angry now. i feel so fucking angry, y/n, and i don’t know why. i don’t know if i’m mad at you or myself but i know i stayed for you. if i never met you, i never would’ve stayed here and now i feel like i’m stuck.”

“but i never asked you to stay, mingi,” you whimper out, the tears quickly coming to the surface.

they’re a mix of sadness and frustration, because it hurts so much hearing this, the obvious regret in his words, but it also makes you mad - that was his choice and his choice alone.

and it’s like he knows that too. because he doesn’t say anything in response, just continues to stare at you with a look in his eye that breaks your heart.

“i asked you so many times if you were okay with doing that,” you begin after moments of silence, your teary, wet gaze meeting his. “i asked you again and again because i knew you’d come to regret it.”

“i’m not saying i regret it, i’m just saying i-”

“you’re saying you stayed here for me like it’s my fault,” you say, shaking your head as tears leak from your eyes and down your cheek. “like i asked you to and like meeting me was your downfall. but i never told you to and i would’ve never ever expected you to.”

“what, so i was just supposed to leave you alone?” mingi growls lowly, emotion behind his tone that’s almost masked by the brashness.

he can’t help but feel all of this coming up, all of these feelings he’s been going through these past months and making him a completely different person.

“why would i have left you when i knew i loved you?”

neither of you focused on loved being past tense, probably because it’s a fact both of you know by now.

“i didn’t want anything else but you in that moment.”

“do you want a prize, mingi?” you snap, every defensive and defeated emotion coursing through your veins.

“you could’ve left me alone. you could’ve just left the way you wished you did so fucking badly. you would’ve saved yourself all of this obvious regret.”

“you think i regret staying with you?” he asks, his voice low and deep as he rises from the chair.

his frame is tall and broad and looming as he walks closer to you, standing over your chair as you sit there and stare up at him. his eyes roam your face and he follows the few tears rolling down your cheeks, his hands stiffly hanging at his sides.

he used to hate seeing you cry.

it used to make him wanna destroy whatever was hurting you. he used to kiss your tears away and wouldn’t let you leave his arms until you were smiling and laughing again.

“well, what do you call this?” you whimper quietly, sniffling and stuffy and feeling small tears stream down your face.

“you basically said if it weren’t for me, you’d be happier with your life. and i... i was so happy when you decided to stay, mingi, i’m not gonna lie to you. i was so happy because i knew we would love each other so much,” you whimper out, the knot in your throat making it difficult to speak.

“but i also knew that one day, you would probably regret it and resent me. it’s why i asked you over and over and over again. because i was so scared this was gonna happen.”

his mouth grows dry as he licks over his lips, a burning behind his eyes as he hears your voice break. he’s quick to shake his head and blink away the tears, though, because he knows if he starts crying, he’s never gonna stop.

“i thought you would leave with me eventually,” he’s finally able to get out, his throat clogged and voice gruff as he voices his innermost thoughts and wishes.

you compromised for him once, why wouldn’t you do it again?

“i thought if you actually loved me the way you claimed to, you’d be able to go.”

“well, i was always honest with you about that too,” you murmur, feeling utterly defeated and guilty as you meet mingi’s glossy eyes. “you know i never intend on leaving.”

a year and 5 months ago - june 19th

he learned about your parents accident on the 4th year anniversary of their death.

he had noticed that week you were especially gloomy, a sad look in your eye and the fake smile on your face making him cling to you just a bit more than usual.

and apparently, you had noticed too.

“mingi, are you okay?”

the words were muffled against his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as the two of you lay on the couch. his hand had been running up and down your back gently all night, like he’d been trying to calm you without any words.

like he knew there was something wrong, even though you hadn’t said a word.

his eyebrows pull together in confusion, placing his fingers under your chin. he lifts your face as his eyes search yours, that sad look behind them masked by a soft curiosity.

you’re trying to hide your pain because you think he’s hurting and that alone only makes him even more sad.

“of course i am, baby. but are you okay?”

you can’t find it in you to say yes so you only nod shyly, a small smile gracing your face as you look at him.

his eyes are full of such warmth and love that it makes tears prick behind your eyes, dropping your gaze quickly as you bury your face back in his chest.

the movement causes him to swallow nervously, adams apple bobbing as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

he knows something’s wrong. he knows something’s very wrong but he doesn’t know what happened or what’s brought this on.

“you can tell me anything,” he mumbles against your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. “you know that, right?”

because he also noticed that you started seeming off when he mentioned moving in together, looking at apartments in town for himself before getting the idea to live with you.

you guys are already together all the time, it only made sense for you two to live together as well.

but he could tell immediately the idea unsettled you, you clutching desperately on to him as you muttered that you’d think about it.

at first, he would’ve assumed you didn’t wanna go that far with him. that it was too serious a commitment and you were completely uncomfortable with that.

but it was the way you were clinging to him, burying your face in his chest like you were begging him not to leave you that made him realize something deeper was going.

it’s why he dropped it at first. looked for apartments on his own with the idea that, best case scenario, you’d move in with him too.

could that be what’s wrong right now? you dealing with moving in with him and fears coming from that? or something else entirely?

he just knows that when he starts to hear you cry quietly into his chest, he needs to know what’s been wrong because he hates seeing you like this.

“hey, hey, hey,” his deep voice mumbles, large hands pulling you from his chest and wiping at your face. “what happened, baby? what’s wrong?”

and since you started crying about this, remembering the day and the circumstances around it so well, you won’t be able to stop. you can only continue to cry into him, tiny sobs wracking your body as you clutched onto him tightly.

“i... i can’t.”

you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell him, he wasn’t sure.

that’s why he shook his head and pulled you back into his chest, the warm safe place you’ve come to know so well and usually calmed you whenever you needed.

“i don’t know what’s wrong but i promise you’ll be okay,” you hear him mumble against your head, his hand running up and down your back gently. “i’ll try to help you in any way i can, baby, but i’m gonna need to know what’s wrong.”

but he can’t help you bring back your dead parents.

he can’t help you time travel the way you so desperately wish you could to tell yourself not to go on that senior trip.

that if you didn’t go, your parents never would’ve driven you to the airport and they never would’ve gotten in the car accident that took their life on the way back.

you’d spent a week in a foreign country while they spent a week in the hospital, your aunt and grandparents dealing with the repercussions before you came back and said your goodbyes in a dingy, hospital room.

mingi doesn’t know how long you both sat there in silence, your cries muffled against his chest and his arms wound tightly around you.

he loosened his hold immediately when he felt you try to pull away, watching as you stared at him, wiped your eyes and told him everything.

“my parents died four years ago, today.”

he watches with soft, sympathetic eyes and a breaking heart as you tell him about your guilt.

how if you just decided to stay home after weeks of begging them to go, they’d still be here.

“they didn’t have the money but i begged them for weeks, mingi,” you tell him, tears in your eyes and voice thick with emotion.

“i wanted to go so badly because all my friends were going and i was too selfish to see they really couldn’t afford it.”

he can tell you’re not done talking so he only presses his lips together and grasps your hand tightly. squeezes it reassuringly as his thumb gently rubs back and forth against your skin.

“they both worked overtime for two weeks straight and gave me the money the last day it was due. and i barely thanked them,” you remember, the scene you’ve replayed in your mind hundreds of times flashing yet again.

you jumped up from the couch and snatched the money from their hands, throwing your arms around them in a quick hug before screaming your thanks and running up to your room to tell your friends.

“a drunk diver hit them on their way home from the airport and the doctors couldn’t believe they both didn’t die on impact. a-and no one in my family could even call me so i said my goodbyes when i got home, in the hospital.”

you look to mingi with tears streaming down your cheeks and you see wetness in his own eyes, his hand grasping onto yours tight.

“i couldn’t even talk to them one last time. or hear their voices. i don’t even know if they heard me.”

your voice breaks off after that, not being able to handle recounting this after years of staying silent about it; he’s the first person you’ve talked to about this besides the counselor you saw a few months after their death.

he pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, rocking you back and forth as he presses his lips to your head.

your eyes are closed tight as you focus on his breathing and soft murmurs. his deep, full voice muttering sweet nothings and quiet reassurances.

that your parents did hear you and they loved you till the end.

that it was no one’s fault but the driver who decided to get in a car after getting drunk.

that you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself, because your parents would want you to be happy and thriving.

“i know but it’s just hard,” you tell him, you teary face pulling away from his wet chest.

you look around the living room full of books and wooden furniture, a family portrait hung above a cluttered-filled desk; it was taken when you were ten and you remember hating that day because you had to wear an uncomfortable dress and tights.

“i don’t know how i’m ever gonna leave this place,” you voice aloud to him, one of the many concerns that muddled your mind when you started deciding on college or jobs or moving in with your perfect boyfriend of almost a year.

“it’s the last thing i have of them. i don’t... i don’t know if i’d be ever to leave this place, mingi.”

not after what happened last time.

not wanting to leave the house you grew up in to strangers who would create more happy memories and replace the ones you made with your own parents.

his face contorts into one of sympathy and pain, his heart breaking as the obvious guilt and dread is in your eyes.

he’d always seen a bit of torment behind them but you were always able to smile.

laugh with him and tease him and push whatever demons he knew you had aside; but he started seeing it again when he mentioned moving in, fear and anxiety and discomfort that he hated to even see behind your eyes.

“i don’t know how that will effect us, it’s something i’ve thought about a lot recently,” you confess quietly, playing with the edge of the blanket nervously. “especially when you mentioned us moving in together. i... i want to, so bad, because i love you and i think it’d be fun. but... i can’t leave.”

your tears start up again and a frown crosses mingi’s face, his body hovering over yours as he takes your face in his big hands.

he wipes at the tears threatening to slide down your cheeks before placing his lips on your head, breathing slowly and calmly against you as his warm breath wafts over you.

“baby, i understand completely, i really do,” he says, everything making sense now but... “but i don’t think your parents would want you to... limit your life like this.”

because you obviously had an interest in seeing the world. you obviously wanted to see different places and cultures and sights in the world that even your precious little town doesn’t hold.

but he can see tonight isn’t the night you’re gonna see that, if the way you shake your head and bury yourself back in his chest doesn’t show that.

and because he loved you more than anything else in the world, he understood it. held you and kissed you and made sure you knew he’d be by your side in whatever way you needed.

it was with his patience and love and unconditional support that you were able to live with him. keep your parents house as a sense of security but slowly move yourself out of it.

leaving a toothbrush at the apartment, a few sets of clothes, some shampoos and soaps until one night, you were waking up and falling asleep with him every morning and night.

present day:

the fight that ended you and mingi was over a trip to disney.

something meant to be so childish and fun and innocent morphing into a blowout, gut-wrenching fight that left the two of distraught.

hit both of you with the realization that whatever you once had had fizzled out and turned so horribly toxic, you were both losing yourselves.

it had started with yunho, san and wooyoung planning the trip, mingi over their house one day after the tension in the apartment got too much. he had scoffed when san mentioned it at first, wondering what business they had as college going twenty-somethings booking a trip to disney.

“it’ll be sweet!” san said, “we could go to the parks for a few days, everyone loves roller coasters! and then we can drive down to the beach, go surfing and go to bars and shit. it’d be so much fun, guys.”

and the more all of them thought about it, the more excited they got. looking at flights and car rentals and getting all their swim suits in order - that was until mingi came back home a day later and informed you of these plans.

“me and the guys were talking about booking a trip to disney,” was the first thing he said to you. not a hello or how are you or sorry for leaving and making you worry for a week.

“oh?” you hummed quietly, looking up from your spot at the kitchen sink; you’d made breakfast for two just in case he came home early but it was another serving of eggs and bacon in the trash.

“yeah, so is that something you’d wanna do?”

there’s something off about his tone that you immediately pick up on. snippy and on edge and defensive, like he’s already fully prepared to break out into a fight.

because he already knows you won’t do it. you won’t leave the 70 mile radius you’ve trapped yourself nor will you even try to go out of your comfort zone for him and you or anyone else.

and quite frankly, he’s grown really fucking sick of it. call him selfish or call him someone looking out for you, someone who knows this type of living isn’t normal, he can’t deal with it anymore.

“i... well i mean...how would we get there? and when?”

“we were looking at flights three weeks from now,” he says, carefully observing your face with slightly cold eyes. carefully waiting for the next hint of a breakdown he’s not gonna properly respond to.

you bite the inside of your cheek as panic starts to stir in your chest.

you haven’t been anywhere since the accident. you’ve gotten yourself so used to this environment that going anywhere else seems terrifying.

but you’ve seen how bad things will happen when you try to venture out. you left to do the same and it cost your parents your life - who’s to say you wouldn’t get your karma soon?

leave mingi without a girlfriend he doesn’t even care about anymore or your grandparents without a granddaughter you can’t help but feel they blame for their child’s death.

tears are quick to prick your eyes as you try to push down all of these feelings, looking down at the floor in a move mingi already knows is dismissive.

you hear him scoff and it sends a flurry of emotions through you, not even needing to lift your head to know he’s shaking his head.

“figures,” he hums lowly, making extra noise as he puts down his bag or plops down on the dining room chair. “i don’t know why i bothered asking.”

“mingi...” you begin breathlessly, guilt and shame and sorrow filling you.

“no, y/n.”

his voice is firm and hard and makes you meet his gaze, the look he’s throwing you icy and completely empty. he’s done and you’re done and there’s basically a ticking time bomb between you two.

“you didn’t even let me give you an answer.”

“because i know what it’s gonna be!” he roars, feeling stupid for getting excited when he knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to leave. “i know you’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse about school or work or money and you’re gonna say no.”

you can’t say anything because you know he’s right. but what he doesn’t know is that you’re trying. you try every day and every week and every month to push yourself out of your comfort zone and it just doesn’t work.

you’ve tried going away with him and you’ve tried expanding your horizons - you’e even moved out of your parents house to live with him. but it’s hard when you’re constantly reminded by the fact that your decisions ended a life.

while it was technically the drunk driver’s fault, your survivors guilt heavily outweighs that. intrusive thought after intrusive thought until you start to question why you’re even still here, too.

“i’m trying, mingi,” you say, your voice shaky and defeated. “i’m trying but you don’t even see that.”

“how are you trying?” he asks, watching your dejected form a few feet away from him. “you haven’t done anything different since you moved in with me. we’ve been living the same life for the past two years, y/n.”

but you just remember how patient he was when you first tried moving in. how he was so patient and kind and gentle and was everything you needed him to be.

but he can just remember how much he loved you. how patient and understanding he was, not fully grasping the severity of what happened to you and how incapable he was of dealing with it.

“i’m... so fucking sick of it. i’ve grown to be so sick of you and i hate that, y/n. i hate feeling like this but it’s the truth.”

“and you don’t think i am?” you blurt out, the dam of tears breaking as you hear him say those specific words to you - i’ve grown to be so sick of you.

your frame is smaller and fragile and you’re like a shell of the person you were when you first met as you make your way up to him, looking over him with all the pain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“you don’t think i’m sick of feeling this way? of seeing how much you obviously hate me and are over this when i can’t stop feeling this way? because i’m sorry it’s been inconveniencing you, mingi, but it’s been ruining me, too. sometimes i can’t even believe i’m still here.”

the last part of your sentence stirs something in him but he can only focus on your broken state. watching as you grow weaker and weaker because of him.

“you haven’t even been helping me,” you suddenly say, words quiet and soft-spoke but filled with an obvious hurt. “i... i don’t know why you’d even wanna go on a trip with me because we’d just fight, mingi. we’d just fight and i’d cry and you’d leave me. th-that’s what we keep doing.”

tears burn the back of his eyes, a knot growing in his stomach so big it feels like he’s about to puke.

“because i don’t know what to do anymore, y/n,” he say, his voice less harsh but still holding a certain degree of bite. “i tried so hard with you and nothing seems to work. i loved you, i still love you, and i was there for you and i tried so hard with you but... i don’t know how to help you.”

“you think yelling is the way? or leaving me is the way?” you laugh out manically, tears rolling down your face that you desperately try to reach out and wipe. “you’re sick of me but i’m sick of you, too. i’m sick of feeling this way and i’m so fucking sick of thinking you still love me.”

“you don’t think i love you?” he asks, rising from his chair and making his way over to you.

his looming height should make you nervous, the way he’s looking down at you and threatening to trap you against the counter should make you nervous, but it doesn’t.

because coming to terms with this right here is the worst part. the conversation you’ve been avoiding for months and the obvious change in what you two have become.

“i don’t,” you say, finally meeting his gaze and seeing hurt and anger swirl behind them. they used to hold such a sweet softness that would sometimes make you feel better, even if just for a little bit.

“because even if you do, you’re still sick of me, right?”

one year ago:

“what if you get sick of me?”

the newest compromise had been his family coming here to meet you.

you and mingi had booked refundable tickets for a week in his hometown, a part of you wanting to desperately prove you could do something for him. something that would make him happy and maybe prove you love him a little more than you can convey.

but the second you got on the highway to the airport, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to.

memories played through your mind of you in the backseat of your parents car, laughing and talking with them as you promised to be careful and take a lot of pictures with them.

hearing them tell you they loved you and were so happy you were able to go after all.

and then you’d looked to the other side and see in your mind a car hitting the other. spinning out and smacking into the divider as an eruption of fire, car parts and the chaotic screeching of breaks echoed through the air.

mingi had to pull over to calm you down, bring you back to the real world in the form of hugging you close to his body and his hand running through your hair.

“i’m- i’m sorry, mingi, i’m sorry, i-”

“sh, you don’t have to apologize, baby, there’s nothing to apologize for,” he hums against your head, pulling you over the console to rock you gently in his lap.

he was warm and broad and soft spoken and everything about him made you feel safe. you couldn’t grasp at the time how or why he was so understanding and sweet but you didn’t even wanna question it.

because he was the one thing in your life that made you feel okay. that you had him and he had you and there was nothing that could be that bad if you had each other still.

he didn’t let go of your hand once as pulled onto the highway, got off the exit and made his way back home.

he guided you back into the apartment and told you to go lay down and that he’d be there in a second.

he cancelled the flight and called his mom, telling her you guys got rained out and that, if it was okay, he’d pay for them to fly out here next week.

the bed dips a few moments later, broad strong arms wrapping around your waist before you’re pulled into his chest.

it was after a few silent minutes stretched between you two, the calming rise and fall of his chest against your back, your small voice pierced the air.

“i’m sorry, mingi.”

he could tell you were gonna cry before you even started, turning you in his arms as he pulled you closer to him.

“baby, i already told you you don’t have to-”

“but i do,” you cut him off, lower lip trembling and stomach knotting guiltily.

“i... i don’t think this is normal, mingi. i should be able to move on with my life and travel somewhere. i wanted to go so badly and meet your mom but i-” your voice breaks as tears fill your eyes and you try to catch the breath threatening to suffocate you.

“i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever,” you say quietly, looking up and meeting his soft, sweet gaze. “i’m scared i’m gonna be like this forever and you’re gonna become tired of it.”

“baby... that’s never gonna happen,” he assures you, voice gentle but firm as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“and you’re not gonna be like this forever. we can get you help. and i can help you,” he says, his eyes looking into yours with such a raw honesty and love. “i... don’t really know how but i’ll do whatever it takes.”

“what if it’s not enough?” you ask, because at the time it’s like you knew just how bad this was gonna get. that even with as low as you felt then, it wasn’t even rock bottom.

“what if you get sick of me?”

“i won’t,” he reassures, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your head before settling you onto his chest carefully. “that’ll never happen because i love you, y/n. and i always will.”

present day:

in a turn of events, you were the one who left after that.

came right to the place you first met, except now the lake isn’t frozen over and the late-afternoon sun had just set.

his words were too harsh and reminded you too much of his broken promises.

you felt too weak and pathetic and completely hopeless, the tense silence so horribly loud between you two you left without a word; and he hadn’t said anything either.

and now, as you sit at the spot you’ve always come to and found solace in, you can feel why he was always so hurt when you didn’t ask him to stay. because even though you were fighting and even though you both hurt each other, you wanted him to ask you to stay.

to please not go because that would’ve been the last possible way for you both to see there was something still there - even though it’s plain to see there isn’t.

too many fights and too many words have been said. too many lapses of silence and too many unspoken thoughts that now when uttered are just hurting both of you.

you’re both too hurt and you both have too many things to sort through that you can’t do together.

one second you were staring down at the lake, your own broken reflection staring back as your feet hung in the water, and the next you couldn’t see. tears flooded your vision and sobs wracked through your body, loud, ugly, horrific sobs that you’ve been holding back for far too long.

you cry because you know it’s over with him, you know it’s been over for a while, but now it all feels real.

you cry because you know you need some help to get past all of the guilt you feel, how if you don’t get help, you’re never gonna leave this town and see what else is out there.

you cry because you don’t even know where to start and know, even though it hurts, you have to do it alone.

you’re so lost in your thoughts and the way your cries echo through the yard that you don’t hear footsteps approach you.

you don’t even know anyone’s behind you until someone bends down and pulls you into their broad, warm chest. a chest you know far too well and a body that hasn’t held you like this in what feels like forever.

he knew you’d be here and he couldn’t stop his legs from jumping in the car and coming to see you after you left. half because he knew this had to happen and half because he was far too scared for you to be out here like this.

he knew what conversation was gonna follow but he knew had to hold you one last time. he missed holding you and he missed wiping your tears away.

“i don’t know what happened to us, mingi,” you whimper into his chest, the tears that have been building behind his eyes finally coming to the surface.

he doesn’t know what happened either. he doesn’t know when or where you guys went wrong or when you stopped talking to each other. he doesn’t know when he stopped loving you in such a way that was all consuming, where he knew he’d do anything and everything for you.

“i don’t... i don’t think this is working. i don’t know what to do but i know i can’t do this anymore.”

“i don’t know what happened either, baby,” he mumbles against your head, his words wobbly and wet as he tightens his hold on you. it feels as if every part of is heart is breaking, for the way he’s neglected you and the way your crying against him.

“i’m sorry i can’t help you. i wanted to so fucking badly but now... i just, i can’t, baby.”

you cry harder as you shake your head against him, feeling him plop down and pull you into his arms tighter.

it feels every bit as heartbreaking and upsetting as you both knew it’d be. it’s probably why you guys put it off for so long. because even though you feel the love you used to feel, you both know nothing will change.

he’ll resent you and you’ll resent him right back.

he’ll say he stayed for you and tried to help you and you’ll say you never asked him to do any of it.

you both sit there and cry and hold each other until the sky falls dark and air turns crisp, the moon reflecting off the lake in a way that hasn’t changed in two years.

but everything’s changed between you both and it’s too heartbreakingly obvious.

“i’ll miss you,” you mumbled to him.

because you know he’s gonna go on and do all the great things he’s wanted to. move out of this town and pursue whatever dreams he put off for you, the girl he once loved more than anything.

“i love you,” he confesses quietly against your head. “i really really did love you.”

because he knows he still does, he knows he always will, but it’s not something either of you can bear to hear right now.

you both have said what the other needed to hear and when you guys part tonight, maybe you’ll finally start feeling better. fix yourselves and the damage you’ve caused each other and maybe reunite when the universe deems it right.

two and a half years later:

it had always been your dream to see the northern lights.

something about them had always fascinated you, how they almost didn’t see real or were just a figment of fake editing that would only ever be seen in photos.

but you had an overwhelming need to see them before your very eyes. see the sight before you and marvel in just how truly fascinating and beautiful it was.

so that’s exactly what you did.

you wrote down a list of all the places you wanted to see: the egyptian pyramids, the great wall of china, the taj mahal, the eiffel tower, all of the sights that you knew in order to see, you’d have to leave the perfect little town you loved so much.

it took a lot of attempts, a lot of tears and anxiety and frantic calls to your therapist, but finally, you were able to do it.

it was the third to last place on your 6-month journey around the world, jet lag getting to you immensely but an extremely fulfilling pride and excitement within you.

you were able to do it. see the sights and meet hundreds of different people and experience all the things you convinced yourself you didn’t need or want.

and you didn’t have a single regret until this very moment.

because the rookie mistake you made within this amazing, journey of self-discovery around the world was not investing in a parka.

the biting temperatures of alaska were surely getting to you right now, your glove covered hands over your ears as you trekked through the snow with other groups of (properly dressed) tourists during the aurora season.

you found yourself in a snowy, freezing field, tall evergreen trees above your heads as you waited patiently for the sky to change perfectly, a buzzing excitement and low chatter from the people around you.

footsteps crunching on snow filled your ears from every direction, your eyes on the trees and large sky above you. a harsh gust of wind whipped past you and you let out a tiny squeal, your hands shooting up to your red, wind-burnt face.

you could hear a quiet, low chuckle beside you, something about the strangely familiar sound sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. you didn’t understand them at that moment, ignoring your bodies odd reaction and keeping your eyes focused on the sky.

it took hearing his voice, the same one you’d fallen in love with in your own backyard, for your eyes widen and quickly look over the snowy vast of land surrounding you.

mingi stepped in front of you, eyes full of amusement and pride and even disbelief, looking over your face with the same type of a fascination he had when he first met you.

“aren’t you cold?”

inspired by: line without a hook by ricky montgomery, ty tiktok

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @chrryhwa @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii

#so aha.... not the dystopian au #but i was inspired by a song in the car and this happened <3 #mingi #mingi angst #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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peeterparkr · 4 years ago

Text

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (Pauper.)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and a little bit of Tom. (Tim fic)

So, the christmas series is finally here! This is a 2 fics in one, meaning I’ll write Tom’s fic and @jambrosemc will write a Tim Chalamet fic, if you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s based on the movie The Holiday, where two women after being heartbroken switch their homes and lives for a bit. Both fics are reader insert, however Emma’s character will be named Sophia in this fic and my character will be named Iris in her fic. Remember the fics are connected and that Tom’s introduction is held in @jambrosemc ‘s fic. And so Tim’s introduction is here. Hope it’s not complicated and we hope you love it.

STORY SUMMARY: Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny.

chapter summary: The heartbreak of an unrequited lover. pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad, mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating. word count: 7.2k

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There is something unequivocally known about love, everything that’s been said about it, is almost true. We’ve been bombarded with love songs, romantic comedies, romance novels, poetry, it’s everywhere. There can never be enough love songs, because no matter how incredible it never seems to be the same, you’ll never see two pieces that are identical, some of them are similar, of course, but they all speak from a very deep side of Love. Love isn’t one thing that is written down, not an exact science. There’s no right formula to whatever love is. But every single thing written about love might be true, at least to someone. Love is something so personal and yet we can all relate to it, but then again there’s never two loves that will feel the same. There can be two love stories starting at the same time but you’ll never feel like it’s the same. But everytime someone dares to write or speak or sing about love, it’s most likely to be true. Or so you’ve learned throughout the years.

In Romeo and Juliet, Romeo asked himself ‘Did my heart love till now?’, and there's common sense to it, we’ve all felt that…We’ve all wondered if you’ve known love before you met the one. You believed you had, you thought you had it all figured out. How much can one learn about love? We’ve all felt it. At some point, or another. You had. It’s incredibly easy to understand that though love is unique in its own sense, love is universal.

You did believe that everything concerning love was true. Shakespeare also said, "Journeys end when lovers meet."

Was it true? You loved to rely on that thought, that we were meant to travel until we found the one. That two people are destined to meet in the middle and start a new one together.

You loved to think about love more than anyone did, you were hopeless. It’s incredibly complex, and subtle and it’s got the power to change someone, and a story, completely. Love is not easy.

Love is also blind, you, perfectly, knew about that. It was smart to know that you’d been blinded yourself.

Love fades. Love is lost. Love is complicated. Love can be something eternal, or love can only last for a night.

Then, there was the one love you knew, the one you’d been living for a while. Unrequited love. No one really talks about that one. All love stories rely on the fact that the two lovers will end up together. But the unrequited love? No, no one dares to write about it. Maybe because they’re too sad in their sorrow to even think of that. You always wondered what would be of that story if someone ever dared to write it. And what’s the destiny awaiting for them?

Always the bad luck, the ones with the blinded reason, but always foreign to that one feeling of joy. Always wounded, and always left when the sun is out. The handicapped of hearts.

You were one, you were one of them, the one who is in love with that one guy who never dares to love back.

It gets even worse around the Holidays, everyone speaks of it. It’s everywhere. You go to the mall and see people buying gifts for their significant others, you turn the TV on and there’s the usual bad romantic films that you ended up watching, always the same, the girl goes from the big city back to her old town and her high school sweetheart is in love with her still, all while there’s an angel or Santa Claus, or whatever they come up this time, and she finds herself falling back in love with her old town, and she’s a painter or whatever and she lets go her dream of the big city to go back to her pathetic love interest.

Yet you always watched them, curled up in front of your TV with the candy that you were supposed to give out on Halloween but instead kept them for Christmas.

That was you, a hopeless romantic who was desperate for love.

You were there, wrapping a delicate christmas present that probably was not wanted but that you were too blinded and too stupid to see that. Also trying to wrap your own mind whether you’d give this out or not.

You were pathetic, and there he was in all his splendor. Chad.

Of course, maybe that’s what you get for being in love with a man named Chad, but he didn’t live up to his name. He was handsome, and incredibly perfect, and you were always so mesmerized by him. You had been in love with him for three years now, three miserable years. And honestly it’s been the worst years of your life, worst birthday, christmases, Halloween, New Years Eve’s that needed wine and Xanax. The biggest curse. All because you’re in love with a man who’s never and will never ever love you back.

He probably wasn’t conventionally good looking, not for most girls around anyway, but he had a confidence and a sly sexuality that could get you to your knees in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, dear, please tell me you’re not deeply lost looking at Chad?” Angela, your coworker and probably closest thing to a friend asked.

“What?” You were snapped out of your trance. “No, no!” Though you had been.

The holidays party at the newspaper you worked at. You wrote the only good news, you’d say, the column of UNIONS, when you described marriages and gave the couples a little bit of spotlight to their recent and new found joy. You wanted to write way more than that, honestly, but you didn’t mind. Though you knew you were probably wasted potential. Potential, everyone said you had it.

“I thought that was over,” Angela pointed out.

“It is! It is—“You tried to say. “It—is, mostly.”

Angela rolled her eyes, “thought so,” she snapped. “What even was the deal with you two? You used to fuck him right?”

“I—“you coughed. “Yeah, I used to sleep with him, but more importantly I was in love with him.”

Still were, for that matter.

“Oh, great, and then—you discovered he was fucking that other girl in accounting, Denise.”

“Yes, I did find out and hence why I stopped… sleeping with him,” you whispered, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to talk about this at the party.”

“But like I always see you two together, so he cheats on you and you keep being friends with him?” Angela pushed to your own disarray. “Plus, I’m like 300% sure you’re the one who writes the articles for him, he hasn’t one ounce of talent and you do.”

You did write his stuff. But couldn’t get anywhere yourself.

“I well-”

“And he cheated, y/n.”

“Yes but he didn’t cheat, you see in his mind we weren’t in a relationship and we were in mine… but like—“

“So if you’re not in a relationship that means you have to expect he’s going to fuck other women?” She pointed out.

“I—“ you didn’t know what to say. “No, no, I mean—but I was so in love with him, but—“Somehow this had opened a gate that you hadn’t opened in a while. “Wait—No, no I can’t cry,” you said to yourself feeling like there was going to be a cascade pooling your eyes. “Does it look like I’m crying?”

“Y/n, maybe—Look,” she wiped off a tear, I—“She coughed. “Did he ever say he loved you?”

“I—yes, three times.” You had counted them. “When I reminded him of that he said it must've been a question and it most certainly was not.”

“You see y/n, when you catch a man fucking another woman you’re not supposed to remain friends with him, you’re supposed to make a scene, threaten to chop off his dick, throw things at him, like I did with your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, “Tim didn’t cheat on you,” you said. “You slept with him once, didn’t talk to each other for like a month and he found someone else and you made a scene.”

You knew your brother was many things but he wasn’t a cheater, he was not a bad person. Tim was someone with enough confidence to know what he wanted and sure, he did find a one night love with strangers every now and then, but he wasn’t a bad person. He probably was too confused. He’s the typical man who is afraid of commitment and has no follow through.

He never fell in love, that wasn’t his thing. The opposite of you, who fell in love deeply. Tim never—wanted any commitment. He could have a one night stand and never follow through.

“But—you see that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Angela continued.

“But I’m not doing anything, we just—text,” you admitted with pity, “and sometimes we FaceTime but like that’s it, and we’ve gone out for lunch and look, he says we’d be idiots to give up our friendship but—“You couldn’t continue.

“Fucking men, they’re trash, all of them, he’s got you right where he wants you, who wouldn't want a fantastic girl like you in love with him ... hanging on his every word …?” She asked. “Chad knows anytime he wants to crawl back …”

“And he is… Look, today he—he said we should go out and he gave me a Christmas present.”

“Which was?”

“A set of lingerie but—“

“Oh my god y/n,” she snapped. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are.”

“Is it pathetic really? To think the world is near perfection every time I’m with him?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Very. It’s...Chad.”

“I… is it wrong, really? I just want to be loved.”

“And you chose Chad?”

Before you could say anything, your boss called out. “Everybody gather around. I have an important announcement to make,” your boss said. “First of all you, I want to wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished,”he kept rambling on their achievements or whatsoever they had done throughout the year, you couldn’t care less. “Given that, we may be able to get by with a smaller announcement—Which involves y/n—y/n? Are you there?”

Angela raised your hand.

“Well y/n your column on weddings has been lovely,” he said.

Was it though?

“And—Well, a wedding was privately announced earlier, and I don’t think any other paper in town knows about it and I want you to be the first to report on this particular union, as it is between two of our most esteemed colleagues got hitched! Bring a loud cheer for Chad Bloom and Denise Higgins!”

Boom.

It all felt...no.

You tried desperately not to cry. Everyone could see you there. Were you dreaming? This was a nightmare.

You didn’t know how you got the guts to get out of that office without crying. You’ve never felt braver before, but you had to give the politest of smiles to Chad and everyone around to then proceed to get your coat and head home. How pathetic did you look in your car crying to a guy who definitely was going to do that.

This felt like a nightmare. The love of your life was engaged. And you couldn’t do anything about it. Because you didn’t believe in multiple loves, only one, love wouldn’t come again and knock on your door. This was it, you were destined to be lonely and stay lonely. This was your very worst nightmare, all that time wasted upon and there was nothing you could do about it.

It hurt, your heart was wrenched. You’d open the Halloween candy sooner, and you’d bought ice cream, three pints of ice cream.

Just a week before he had given you the set of lingerie and said he was eager to see you wearing it. Honestly, you had lied to Angela. You had seen him a couple of times, and sooner or later you’d end up in between the sheets because you had absolutely no self control when it came to him. He knew how to press your buttons and where to touch you and he’d try to charm you each time and you’d end up falling for it. He’d say that he’d changed and that he always believed in you.

Honestly, you always fell for it because you thought you were both destined to be in love.

But now it was all gone, you’d lost him. He was going to marry someone else.

This probably was the lowest point in your life, it really was. Because it was so stupid to fall in love with someone who was just going to step on you, and you needed someone. Time was passing by, it was getting darker and night was only drowning you more. You needed someone to talk to, who’d listen. But someone who wouldn’t judge you just as bad or who couldn’t judge you as bad.

You were getting tired of crying but you couldn’t help it. You felt insignificant and as small as humanly possible. So very crushed.

You called your brother, because though he probably would judge you, and he’d probably not care, he was kind of forced to listen because you were relatives and you did help him from time to time. Lately more than you wanted to.

“Y/N—?” Tim answered, and you could hear there was music playing behind him. Of course he’d be awake in the middle of the night. He probably was out clubbing.

“Tim—I need—I’m not okay,” you admitted.

“Y/N I can’t really—“he laughed in between. “Hear you.”

“Chad is engaged!” You said louder.

He laughed. “Chad, what a stupid name.”

“Tim I’m serious!” She stated.

“How serious can this be his name is Chad!” Tim giggled. He was clearly drunk.

“Tim! I—He’s engaged I—I can’t believe it just a week ago he said he—“

“We’ve both known Chad is an asshole y/n, his name is Chad for fuck’s sake,” Tim pushed. “We both—I thought you were over him.”

“I… well.”

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n.”

“I’m never gonna love again,” you stated.

He scoffed. “Love doesn’t exist, y/n,” he stated. “Not for someone named Chad.”

“Stop.”

“He—“Tim sighed. “Look, we both knew he was an idiot, and we both knew he was going to break your heart and—He already had! May I remind you of that? He cheated on you!” He stated. “He is an asshole who doesn’t deserve any of your tears and I’m a hundred percent sure you are crying.”

You were, for that matter. Love for you was also always shedding tears.Sad tears. Love hurts. “I love him.”

“And I love this vodka on my hand,” he stated. “That—means nothing, okay?”

“You’ve never been in love,” she snapped. “You don’t know how it feels to have your love taken away—“

“Don’t go there, y/n.”

“I—I just—I can’t—“

“Y/N you need a break,” Tim said without really caring. “I’ll call you back later alright? I’m busy.”

A break.

Yes, that’s exactly what you needed. A break from your stupid and pathetic life, a break from your little fantasy. A break from Chad. Honestly, you were tired of it. Always having the worst of luck. You needed a break from men, though you barely had… Being completely honest, it only takes one man to lose faith in humanity. They hold that power.

You knew what love was and well, you’d never have it. You were destined to be the side character, the best friend and the one plot device. Not relevant.

Because honestly how stupid were you.

But was it really so bad to feel that way? To long for love, for someone who would run to you, and whom you could fall so deeply with. Guess now you had to build up walls. Because now you couldn’t get nobody else to hurt you again, nobody was worth this pain. Nobody should ever feel this way. You never wanted to let anyone hurt you again.

Honestly, you so needed a break. But where and how?

You couldn’t stay in your place, it held too many memories, lots of them of you being stupid with Chad because you were such an idiot for letting him in your house and corrupt your place. You needed a break because everything would remind you of him, your car, his car, his house, this town, everything. Also your place was too sad.

You could go away. You had to, because you couldn’t let yourself drown in more sorrow. You were so unbelievably tired of it.

You had to go. Away from him, away from this place and your stupid house. Hell, if you could, you’d go to another country.

You rang Timmy again.

“What- y/n?”

“Where should I go?”

“What?”

“Yes on vacation,” you added.

“How do I-I don’t know, fuck it eh, oh wherever they speak English, bye.” He hung up on you again.

Where did they speak English?

England, of course.

Hell, maybe that’s why Chad didn’t love you, you were stupid, probably. England. London. You’d always wanted to go there. Anywhere really, but you never went anywhere because you were still waiting on Chad. Jesus, how much time did you spend wasting on that man?

England.

You opened up your laptop, ready for it. You needed to get away and not waste the holidays watching old and bad Hallmark movies eating ice cream by yourself. Or maybe yes, just far away from your own house.

Airbnb.

You went straight to London, it always seemed like a dream, besides it could work. And you scrolled through houses, big ones, small ones.

Then you found one. ‘Cozy, lovely place above a bookshop’. It did call your mind, it gave the idea of a perfect fantasy, it seemed nice enough.

And far, very far. And so different from whatever her fantasy with Chad had been, what was his thing? Island in the Caribbean.

You kept reading.

“In the other direction, the Bayswater Road will take you to Notting Hill (location of the Julia Roberts/ Hugh Grant film of the same name) and its fantastic local restaurants and bars, boutique shops, and the famous Portobello Road Market.”

That caught your mind. It seemed… perfect but to live with that fantasy of yours to live in a stupid romcom. Could it be?

No, no. You had to go in with the idea that no matter how romantic, you had bad luck and not even such a romantic place would make you have someone to love. You were really supposed to be always lonely. But the idea… of leaving did thrill you.

You didn’t think much of it, but the next morning, you still had that thought roaming in your mind, and eventually… you tried to reach out. It had closed, however. But you had saved the ad.

Sophia.

That was her name.

Hey! I’m interested in your house! That seemed too weird. Besides she had closed it.

You decided to reach out anyway.

“Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!” You sent it in. Wondering if you’d apologized just enough times.

You knew she’d probably not respond.

“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore,” she answered. That had been quick. Lucky she was online but the place was no longer available.

This was your bad luck only. Of course she wasn’t going to rent it. The dream seemed too far away. But… she had just broken up, she probably was feeling awful.

“Oh, I’m sorry! why did you break up with him?” You asked.

Then read again what you’d just asked. What was wrong with you? This was a stranger. They didn’t need to give any explanation.

“I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.” You added.

She was typing. “No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.”

Been there, you thought to yourself. But probably at least most likely she was dating him and they were in a relationship not like you with your stupid “whatsoevership” with Chad.

“Men are trash,” you texted her.

“To say the least,” she answered.

You bit your lip. You knew you had to open up to. Well you didn’t have to, but you… felt the need to.

“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.”

As soon as you sent it you saw how stupid you looked. You were absolutely pathetic.

“Chad?” Sophia asked.

You chuckled. You could see the smirk from the other side.

“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Was your response.

It honestly was. But thought it seemed fun to poke on his name, it really didn’t occur to you that it was because of his name that he was an asshole, don’t blame it on a name.

“Well, I’m sorry that “Chad” had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.” Sophia sent.

Yes, you too were sorry.

“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.”

You really were going to keep looking, maybe not as perfect as the place Sophia had but at least go away.

“Maybe we could work something out?” Sophia asked.

Huh.

You grinned before chuckling. “Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.”

That would be a fun idea, impossible of course but you secretly hoped it could be done.

“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” She asked.

Was she really up for it or was she just like you? Bored and alone enough to be talking to a stranger you’d met over Airbnb. Some people do tinder, but guessed you did Airbnb to make friends with other women who’d fallen under the sorrow that is falling in love with men.

“Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.” Was your answer. Of course if she was remotely interested on switching before, all hopes would flush now.

“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” Sophia answered.

Was… it for real?

“Me too.”

You answered in hopes, but not really she’d back away.

“So, should we switch?” She asked.

You stared at the screen, not believing it. You had to make sure. “You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.”

“Surely it’s not too horrible.”

It wasn’t, honestly. It was pretty. But not exciting, it was only normal. It was clean, it was full of books.

“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.”

You didn’t know why you were sabotaging yourself. Matter of habits, maybe.

She didn’t.. Back away. “That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.”

So weird, you wanted to go near something romantic to be reminded love exists, or whatever. You didn’t understand why. Honestly, it probably was only a way to cope with this.

“Well, this is your chance.”

Honestly, this place was everything but romantic.

“Can I ask you one thing?” She asked.

She was going to back away. “Sure.”

“Are there any men in your town?” She asked.

Well, there goes your chance. You had to be honest about it. “Honestly? Zero.”

You waited for the ‘not interested' answer, instead she gave you: “When can I come?”

You scoffed with delight, not believing it. “Tomorrow too soon?” You asked, half-joking only. Honestly, you had to get away now.

“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.”

You couldn’t believe it. “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”

“Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”

It ws for that matter, but when you’re brokenhearted you have no common sense. You didn’t have one of your own, that is. But this was exciting and this seemed like an adventure. A great idea for the one book you’d promised yourself you’d end up writing one day, instead of writing every other article for Chad.

You thought about it, you really wanted to go through with it. “It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?”

And that would bring less of suspicion, god, why were you like this?

“Umm, yes actually :) that would be great.”

Yeah, she’d say that.

“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?”

“Yes, I feel like that might be better.”

What was going on? Why were you exchanging numbers with a girl who you had never met and who lived in a completely different country. Besides, it was even crazier to think you btoh were thinking about switching places. You were crazy, completely off reason. Yet you didn’t know how or why you ended up both texting more, and talking. Showing each other’s places and ranting about men.

You couldn’t blame her for not believing in love, of course she wouldn’t. The ne guy she gives her heart to cheated on her. You wouldn’t blame her, at all. Besides, it was just…

You both had a very different version of it, but it was… Different. Yes, different, you guessed there was no other way to put it into it.

The texting didn’t cease, it continued more than you ever thought it would. Because sometimes it’s easier to rant to a stranger about life and love’s misfortunes. It seemed incredibly stupid how you both were talking about men who decided to ruin your lives. How in this world had you ended up venting to a stranger?

Danny blamed it on her. Danny seemed like the typical male who wanted to have a girlfriend and well, there was Sophia. It seemed sad, seemed like they both settled for it. Not even Sophia seemed to talk about him with love. She was just so… Not into it. Just talking about someone who she used to share time with.

She had given up on it. You couldn’t understand that. If the one who wasn’t the one could make her happy at some point, how happy would she be with the one?

However, you both seemed very alike, and both of you probably were in the same situation. Well, of course, the cheating part was different. But you’d gone through it as well. But Sophia explained that Danny, her ex, hadn’t even felt sorry for cheating.

You knew that story like the palm of your hand. Chad well… He blamed it on you, too. And he had said it, he didn’t cheat.

And though the stories were so different, the feeling was the same, of wanting to take a break from your pain, from a heartache and being so damn unreasonable to think of this. Honestly, though the idea of London seemed romantic, you knew you’d end up curled up crying on the other side of the world.

Sophia seemed to be very well put together, she had her bookshop, which added to her life. And sure, she seemed like a workaholic but she seemed to be kind. Someone who had the guts to follow her dreams and someone who barely had time to think about love.

You wished you were a bit more like her. She seemed like a main character. Even her name was a main character one.

The texting, not sure how or when, turned into a facetime call, and there you were, facetiming with a stranger about the lack of love you’d been involved with. You pitied her, though. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could completely understand what she was going through. She seemed tough enough. But for her, love had rules. It had to be a certain way, and life had to have a certain balance and everything had to be merely perfect. But love for her was simple, the only rule was not to cheat.

Danny, her ex, had broken that rule. Which honestly, from what you’d gathered she was someone who actually tried. But… No, Sophia had seen him fade out. It always scared you to see that, to see how someone falls out of love. Sophia had seen it. But maybe Sophia’s belief, or lack of, of love was just… Surreal. But you understood it, not completely. But you did.

How could she believe in love when she’d never had it? Truly had it.

And she spoke of love as if it was a disease. Maybe it was, a disease. But was love really the disease or the aftermath the true one?

She didn’t believe in love. And not in a way that everyone has gone through, not in the way when you’re so brokenhearted that you don’t believe in it for a while. No, she didn’t want to give it a chance. For her, life was supposed to be about her success and her job, and the thrill of owning a bookshop.

Maybe she was the one who was right, after all you'd proved that love only could hurt. And how could you, after all of this, believe in it?

“So how long were you with him?” You asked her, as you were pacing around your kitchen, honestly you didn’t care if a complete stranger was seeing you in your ‘Chad reaction’, the bottle of wine, the chips, the cookies, your pj’s. Your pug dog, Tommy following you around.

Yet she was there, so elegantly, with her glass of wine. How was she handling it so well?

She gave it a thought. “About four years. What about you? How long have you loved Chad?” She smirked at the thought.

Four years. It seemed… enough. You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name. “Oh god it does sound super stupid,” you groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point,” you said before finally opening up the wine and pouring a glass.

“No, it’s not stupid,” she answered. But it was, his name was Chad. “But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”

Very, very low point. “But like you told me—He blamed it on you?” You couldn’t put your mind to it, at least Chad had accepted he’d slept with Denise. Of course, he didn’t say he cheated but he hadn’t… blamed it on you.

“He did,” she admitted. “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”

You clenched your jaw, incredulous of how stupid he was. If you met the guy you’d probably slap him. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.” Because that’s how men work.

Sophia sighed. “Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… “ She paused. “bored of me.” You could see she was hurt. “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”

“No. it doesn’t,” you agreed as you plopped on your couch, your dog jumping to your lap .” Why—Why are men—Like—”You didn’t know what you wanted to ask. “No, never mind that’s my question,” and it was. “Why are men?”

She let out a soft laugh. “Why are men indeed. More specifically, why is Chad?” She joked.

You laughed, too, with distress, running a hand through your face. “Ugh, don’t even mention him,” you whined. “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?” You snaked with disbelief.

She groaned. “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him.” You had the question backwards, why had he ever looked at you? “Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”

You didn’t know how to answer the question. Then again, you had the same question for her. Why Danny? Why, being such an incredible woman, had she chosen Danny? Love is blind. You’d learned that over the years.

Maybe because ‘Danny and Sophia’ sounded like something with balance. But did it really? How could she see it so simply?

“Look—I—” You took a deep breath. “I believe in love at first sight,” and you did, in your own way. “and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” You explained. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming,” because he had been, at very first, he had been charming and he’d learned how to make you fall in love with him. “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story,” you sounded so childish and stupid but how could anyone ever apologize for being in love. “And he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—”You had to face the truth. “He only wanted sex and I fell in love,” it all ended so simply. Maybe Sophia was right all along. “Pathetic right?”

She watched you, and you saw it, the pity in her eyes. Yet someone else feeling sad for you. She probably did think you were pathetic. “No, I don’t think it’s pathetic… I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost,” she answered. “Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” You wondered again, how come she’d never felt it. “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like,” she explained. Yes you were probably a mental woman to her. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”

How bad is it to want a fairytale? “Love is worth it, though,” you said, because how come a beautiful feeling could carry so much pain. “It’s men who are the problem.”

She grinned, defeatedly. “Suppose you got me there…”

You had to ask though. “But you... like really don’t believe in love?” You asked. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”

She grimaced and took a sip of her wine. “You know,” she paused to think a bit. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You understood that part, believing someone loves you back and then it turns out they didn’t… Well, it hurt. “But, I guess he just…”She probably didn’t understand it herself. “And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” That you could understand, though you were so enthusiastic about the feeling, you knew you weren’t meant to find it. “I just don’t think most people do.” She watched you, curiously. “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”

It was an escape, really. Love seemed to make people happy and you wanted to be happy. She reminded you so much of Tim, talking trash about love and not understanding the thrill for it. Being so done with the feeling.

“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing,” you started with that, because it was true. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances,” you said. “Not me though,” you scoffed. “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it,” you said, because love could come in so many ways. “I don’t think you can easily-“You shook your head. “I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone,” seemed like believed in second chances for Chad. “ I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… “ you took a deep breath. “super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.” Or love.

Sophia probably believed you were helpless. You were. “Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true,” it was easy for her to say. She was the main character. “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling…” Why wouldn’t they. “I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though… “ She admitted truthfully. She gave it a thought. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”

Your dog raised its head as soon as he heard his name. Tom. You smiled and petted him. “It is thrilling I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you were excited. “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…”You knew it wouldn’t come. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”

He really did. Tim was even worse than her. Tim never, ever had believed in love. He said he didn’t want to bother about it, no commitment, not ever seeing someone twice because why would he? He said it was a waste of time. Shades of gray on love. And he said he didn’t want to risk just to get hurt. He said love was… a mystery he didn’t want to explore. He liked simple things.

“Really? He sounds better than most men already,” she commented.

You laughed. “He’s not.”

If you ever bumped into someone like your brother you’d end up running the other way.

She chuckled. “Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?”

You scoffed. “You’d think that,” you pointed out. “But no, he’s a man,” you stated clearly. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love,” you snaked. Probably the second one. “Your friend is probably the second one.”

Men who don’t believe in love at least are direct about it, and the second type they know and try to hurt you.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you. He’s really sweet, typically… “She said. “I mean, he is a man so he has his days”

You heard her…. And then you clicked it. Tom, that friend of hers, he probably was in love with her. “Oh,” you closed your eyes. “Of course…. so… Right, right,” she chuckled. “But you don’t believe in love and...Right, right,” you thought it was ironic. You hadn’t even met the guy but you could tell that he probably was so smitten with her and she didn’t see it. A perfect love story. Why couldn’t she see it? “Perfect setup, see?” You said. “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”

She seemed confused, because of course, she didn’t see it, she couldn’t, for that matter. But god, how did she not see it?

“Then I can’t wait to go, really,” she went along. “I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself in things to remember the “fantasy” of love again,” she offered. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”

You couldn’t quite put your mind to it. It had been hours of you speaking with this stranger. And all because you wanted to change lives with a stranger. Were you actually going to go through with it? You wanted to.

“You think there are any flights?” You asked, half joking.

“I’m sure there have to be some. Should we check?” She offered.

You smirked and reached for your laptop, conveniently in front of you. “Definitely.”

You expected her to back up.

“Wonderful.” She hadn't. “How long are we doing this for?”

Forever? You wanted to say. “Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon… “ You pointed you. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”

Because you didn’t want to spend Christmas with your family and hear that question, because you’d promised you’d bring Chad for Christmas. Why? You didn’t know. Because you were an idiot.

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly.”

“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” You asked as you pointed the camera at your puppy, honestly you had lied, Tommy was the love of your life. A young pug who loved to follow you around. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”

She smiled at him. “I’d love to take care of… did you say…”She tried not to laugh. “l-little Tommy?”

You grinned as you hugged the dog close. “Yeah, his name is Tom. He’s the only male that matters.”

“Oh, I love that. I would love to trade Tom’s with you,” she chuckled.

Oh god, why didn’t she see it?

“As long as I don’t have to feed that one,” you chuckled.

“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” she grinned. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”

Of course he was, he was in love with her. You chuckled and then started to actually look for flights. “I probably won’t notice, honestly…” You scrolled through the flights and there was one. “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”

She probably was looking for flights. “I found one too, shockingly enough… Are we really going through with this?”

Were you?

You were excited, scared but excited. “I think we are.”

“Well, alright then… “ She seemed to be rational yet.

“On three then….?” You asked, knowing this decision would probably change your entire life, not sure why. BUt you had a feeling that this was either the worst decision you’d ever made or the best one. This was the so-needed break you needed, you needed to breathe, and this was the perfect way to do so. Yes, this was unplanned and this was mysterious but this was what you needed an irrational decision.

“One…”She started.

“Two…”

“Three!” You said at the same time.

You’d bought the ticket. There was no going back now. You were going to London to a Stranger’s house for the Holidays.

sophia’s version <- REMEMBER TO READ TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH TOM.

story masterlist.

next chapter

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djemsostylist · 4 years ago

Text

Of Queens and Trash

Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.

And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”

For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.

Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.

I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.

For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.

Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.

You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.

You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?

So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.

But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.

So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?

And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.

Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?

And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.

But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?

And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.

So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.

I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.

Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.

Bitte.

Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.

#sen çal kapımı #sck #serkan bolat #eda yıldız #SCK is officially over for me #so I’m making funerary arrangements to say goodbye to yet another fandom.#this is my eulogy #also this is a serkan bolat protection blog #jesus i sound like a 14 year old fangirl #whatever #its been a minute since i have been one of those #let me relive the days in peace

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jackcinephile · 4 years ago

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LO Fans: "I love Lore Olympus because it deals with serious themes, like sexual assault, abuse, gaslighting, trauma, and mental health issues!"

Me, who spent my life discovering and obsessing over masterpieces like this:

"You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to impress me."

Yeah, I never understood that kind of praise. For one thing, people act like LO is groundbreaking for that reason, despite there being countless movies, books, tv shows, comics, and video games that also deal with the same themes. That isn't to say there can't be more stories like this, however. I, for one, am begging for another video game that comes close to the emotional resonance of Silent Hill 2, or for a faithful adaptation of Dracula and/or Phantom of the Opera, or for a horror movie as unsettling as The Howling! But to say any new story that deals with these themes is unique for doing so, is just simply not true. Lore Olympus is no more unique than any of these stories. Also, I don't understand the praise that Lore Olympus is great just by virtue of having these themes in the first place. Just because a story has serious themes, doesn't automatically make it good. Far too often does LO use its themes as a crutch for a plot that is standard issue among romances, as opposed to stories like The Howling, which has a very intriguing, outlandish plot that serves as a catalyst to explore themes of very real and relatable horror. Lore Olympus, without its intense themes, is just another story about the CEO falling in love with his intern. And don't get me wrong, I LOVE those kinds of stories, but Lore Olympus just doesn't really do it for me. And the poorly executed themes just hamper it even further for me.

If it wasn't already apparent, has anyone noticed a pattern between these titles? All but one are horror stories. In my opinion, that is one of the key differences between them and LO: Horror! The themes within, are ones that illicit terror, and the stories reflect that (even Phantom of the Opera--don't listen to anyone who says it's a romance). Starting with Dracula, one of the scenes that horrified me the most in the book was the one where Count Dracula sneaks into Mina's bedroom. The book describes him slitting open his own vein and forcing her to drink his blood. Mina then expresses feelings of violation, much akin to what rape survivors feel. It doesn't pull any punches in its shocking, horrific portrayal, but it never comes off as exploitative. That's because the best horror stories rely on the audience's empathy. In this case, nobody wants to feel violated, so we feel as horrified as the characters do when we read about this grotesque event. And because it is about illiciting fear through empathy, Dracula succeeds where Lore Olympus fails. Lore Olympus, before all else, is a romance. And rape should not be in a romantic story. Especially not when the narrative of LO uses this trauma to validate the relationship between the two leads. I'm not a fan of stories that use trauma to validate a relationship between romantic interests, and I think that partly stems from reading the Phantom of the Opera.

If you ask me, Phantom of the Opera is one if the best books to discuss abuse and gaslighting ever written! Despite misconceptions generated by the popularity of the musical, PotO is very much a horror story with hardly any romance at all. And it's one of the best examples about why using trauma to validate a romance is a very bad idea! You see, all the conflict of the story begins with The Phantom and his trauma. He was born with multiple physical deformities that cause him to look like a living corpse. Because of this, he is despised and rejected by the world in order to escape the hatred of the world, he commissions the construction of the Paris Opera House, complete with intricate catacombs where he can live out the rest of his miserable days. Then one day, a woman named Christine comes to work at the Opera as a chorus girl. She is sad and alone due to her being orphaned, without a friend in the world. She too is emotionally damaged and the Phantom thinks this means she'll understand him. The trouble begins instantly when he claims to be a character from a folktale that Christine's father used to tell her. This is when the manipulation and gaslighting begins. Part of what makes this so effective is how we see it from an outside perspective. The protagonist, Raoul, is in love with Christine and we get to see his confusion and growing concern when he starts realizing Christine is showing signs of an abusive relationship. What makes the relationship even worse is the fact that Christine actually does understand The Phantom. So she doesn't run away not only out of fear, but also compassion. She knows what it's like to feel isolated and dead to the world and The Phantom uses that against her. The more I describe this, the more parallels I begin to see to Hades' and Minthe's relationship. Yes, Minthe abused Hades in much of the same way as The Phantom abused Christine. Notice how Minthe keeps convincing Hades that they're the only people who understand each other, even going so far as to say, "We're the same." The funny thing is, that's exactly what the narrative uses to validate Hades' and Persephone's relationship! It tries to establish that Hades and Persephone relate to each other and they say, several times, "We're the same," to each other. But this is exactly how Hades got stuck in a toxic relationship with Minthe, so why is it suddenly okay now? Relationships that use shared trauma to validate themselves are almost always doomed to become toxic, in one way or another.

So what about the healthy relationship in Phantom of the Opera? Well, it's kinda interesting actually. You see, Christine eventually comes to realize that she needs help, so she turns to the protagonist, Raoul, to get her away from the Phantom. Raoul has an interesting character arc because he starts the novel being pretty immature and kinda selfish. He doesn't really take Christine's feelings into consideration. It's more like a boy chasing his childhood crush (actually that's exactly what happens). However, over the course of the story, as he becomes increasingly concerned with her well-being, he learns to care more about her feelings and her needs. This culminates in the climax, when he's willing to crawl through hell itself for her sake. I bring all this up because I wanted to compare Raoul with Hades as well. Hades is a very consistent character. He doesn't need an arc like Raoul because, from the very beginning, he's willing to put all of Persephone's needs before his, to a fault! That is his entire purpose within the narrative of LO. He exists to serve Persephone. Raoul didn't exist to serve Christine. He had his own journey of growing and maturing. And Christine didn't exist to serve Raoul either. It bothers me that a novel from 1910 has a more well-rounded relationship than a modern comic! Actually, now that I think about it, isn't Persephone's entire character arc supposed to be her learning that she shouldn't exist to serve others? Well, that totally contradicts Hades' role in the story, doesn't it? He exists to serve her! I guess, in the eyes of LO, it's only okay if men serve women, but not for women to serve men. Newsflash: neither is okay.

Now Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) remains, to this day, one of the most terrifying movies I've ever seen! That's all thanks to its brutal depictions of domestic abuse. So Dr. Henry Jekyll believes the solution to enlightening the human race is to separate the good and evil in our souls. He solves this problem by creating a drug to do just that, which transforms him into Edward Hyde, but he becomes addicted and starts terrorizing a woman who was once a former patient of his. I think what makes this so effective, when compared to LO, is one simple factor: Fear. I am terrified of Edward Hyde, but whenever Apollo shows up, I'm just annoyed. That's because Hyde isn't being used to sell an agenda, while Apoll is. Apollo is all about making a statement about toxic masculinity, which always bothered me from the very beginning! Being an abusive cunt who rapes women has nothing to do with masculinity! It doesn't matter if you're masculine or feminine, anyone can be a cunting abusive rapist. If you are a rapist, it's because you're a monster who lacks empathy, not because of masculinity. And if you think masculinity has something to do with a lack of empathy, fuck off! Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is not about toxic masculinity. It's about how drug addiction can often hurt other people around us just as much, if not moreso, than ourselves. It also doesn't use rape to validate a relationship between characters. I'm sorry, but that is just the laziest storytelling technique. When the antagonist is a rapist OF COURSE the male love interest is going to look better by comparison! But when you take Apollo out of the equation, Hades stops looking like a desirable love interest real fucking quick.

So yeah, I think Hades makes for a bad love interest. That's mostly because he's so much like Shinji Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion. Yeah, the one title from the list above that's not a horror, but is no less relevant. The thing is, both Hades and Shinji have a lot in common, such as hating themselves, having a bad relationship with their father, and not caring at all about their own wants and needs. Oh, also Asuka's a better written character than Minthe, but that's a whole other topic. What makes Evangelion work, in my opinion, is that Shinji's whole journey is about learning to love himself, while Hades is portrayed as being perfect the way he is. Hades in LO is like a flawless beacon of virtue, solely because he worships the ground Persephone walks on. But the guy just doesn't care about himself at all! Like I said earlier, Hades guilty of the same self-destructive behaviors as Persephone but he's praised for it, while Persephone is encouraged to look after herself more often. Compare this to Shinji, whose life only gets worse the more he neglects himself. The only time Hades does something beneficial for himself is when he breaks up with Minthe, but immediately after that, he starts devoting every ounce of energy to Persephone! All that matters is her! He doesn't give a single fuck about himself. Sorry, but that's not good qualities in a male love interest. In all fairness, this is a problem with the romance genre as a whole. Most romances give priority to the protagonist (in this case Persephone) while neglecting the love interest (Hades). It's why I have a serious problem with the entire genre.

Now what could Silent Hill 2 have that is in any way relevant to Lore Olympus? Two words: Nightmare Fuel. Personifying trauma as literal demons is one of the smartest ideas anyone's ever had, because speaking from personal experience, that's how it feels. I just don't feel like the trauma experienced by the characters in LO is a waking nightmare like it is in real life. For one, the characters' trauma only pops up when it's convenient for the plot. Like whenever Persephone starts experiencing ptsd, it happens when she's with Hades so we can get a scene with Hades cuddling her. After that, it shows up in a scene to make her look badass by confronting Apollo. No, just no. The Howling did it better too, by making the protagonist's trauma such an inconvenience in her life! I never felt that way in LO. When you uss traumatic encounters to make your character look like a badass, kindly fuck off.

#lore olympus

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cocovikings23 · 4 years ago

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New Start - Chapter 6 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

Hi everyone !

As promised in the sixth chapter, I hope you like it. Nothing special is happening, the relationship between Ivar and the reader is intensifying, I needed to go through it to get to chapter 7 which will be more "full" ☺️😎

Words: 2284

Warnings : None except mention of sexual practices. Texts are written in italics

Again thank you to my beta @waiting4inspiration ♥️

Gif by @ivarsshieldmadien

Chapter 6: Business Travel

After landing, a limo is waiting for you, Floki, and Ivar. The three of you get into this beautiful car and the champagne is offered to you “Ecbert wants to impress us with his wealth, he should rather impress us by keeping his promises,” said Floki in a sarcastic tone. Ivar smiles a little ironic smile that only he knows the meaning of.

You arrive at the hotel and Gods, it’s enormous. A baggage handler takes care of your bags and the three of you go to the reception. The hotel has assigned you suites – it doesn’t surprise you – and you then head for the elevator. Ivar hasn’t said a word to you since the landing and it’s starting to get tense even though you know he prefers to say nothing to Floki about your little follies on the plane.

You go up to the tenth and last floor of this building. Floki already knows the place. He has come time and time again with Ragnar so, he does not need to be shown to his room.

Ivar interrupts this silence by greeting Floki who returns from his suite, “Floki, we meet at 19:30 for dinner with Ecbert at the restaurant of the hotel. Get ready for negotiations, old fool.” You chuckle softly at Ivar’s words and he turns his gaze to you. “Now I will show you your suite.” Your suites are next to each other. Yours is the one in the middle of Floki’s and Ivar’s.

You insert your card in the electronic box to unlock the door. And when you enter your room you are breathless. Large windows overlook the city that is illuminated with all colors, the entrance opens on a living room where there is a round table - there is a welcome card with a bottle of champagne and two glasses - and two armchairs, a beige sofa, and a huge mirror on the wall. On your right, there’s the bedroom with a king-size bed with bright white sheets, and four pillows carefully placed at the head.

A little further in, you discover the bathroom. An Italian shower adorns the room. It is very large. You think there is plenty of room for two in it... Towels with the name of the hotel sewn on the edge are arranged between the two sinks.

You come back to the living room to find Ivar is sitting on one of the chairs, his crutch on the ground. The porter knocks on the door to bring you your suitcase. Ivar thanks him so that he can quickly leave.

“Are you satisfied with the room?” asks Ivar.

“It is… really… great and very beautiful, yes. Thank you, Ivar,” you answer, walking to the window to admire the view and the night that gradually falls over the city.

You hear Ivar get up and feel him getting closer behind you. He presses his body against yours, smells your hair, and then your neck before placing a sweet kiss on it. It makes you close your eyes. He puts his free hand on your belly to pull you more against him. You turn to him and decide to kiss him. He grabs your ass to knead it, then quickly regains his mind before letting himself be invaded by his desires. “It is better that you rest a little before dinner.”

He goes to the door but stops to give you some information. “You’ll get a visit from a hairdresser and a makeup artist. I hired them for you fo-”

“Ivar, you don’t have to do this for me”, you cut Ivar off but it’s something he hates.

“Did you just interrupt me, Y/N? Huh? It seems to me that I don’t have to repeat to myself that I AM the boss and that if I want to hire a makeup artist or something else, I am entitled to do it”, he whispers as he approaches you. You look down, blame yourself for interrupting him even though you know he hates it. But he says nothing and does nothing. He starts again with a more relaxed voice, “I’ll meet you later. I’ll lie down for a bit. You should do the same.” Then he slams your door as he leaves.

You sit on your bed, the tiredness of the journey – which can be said to have been painful – takes you into a light sleep and you doze off for a few minutes. You are awakened by a text that Hvitserk sends you:

“Hello beauty, are you well in England? My brother is not too stupid with you? lol xoxo”

“Hi Hvitty, everything is going well, I miss you! Xoxo.”

You prefer not to talk about Ivar, so the less you tell Hvitserk, the better. You throw your smartphone across the bed and let out a big sigh before getting up.

You decide to start getting ready, take a nice warm shower and wrap yourself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes. You haven’t unpacked your suitcase yet, so you open it up and take out your things to hang them in the wardrobe. In particular, the beautiful dress that one of your friends gave you – it was your parting gift. It’s a beautiful dress with thin black straps. It’s long, with a few rhinestones on the neckline. Not to mention your pair of Louboutins which oddly match the dress perfectly.

A few minutes later, you hear a knock at your door. You open the door and there are two men – that look quite eccentric – smiling at you. “Come on, we will take care of you!”

You let them in and they put their equipment in the living room. They have more makeup and hair accessories than an entire beauty salon. They put one of the chairs in the middle of the room and signal you to sit down.

After 45 minutes of styling, makeup, and dressing, you look like a goddess. Your long hair is dressed in an extremely well-structured bun – not a strand protrudes from your head. Your makeup matches the color of your eyes, your lips are dressed with a peach-colored lipstick, and the best thing, you have false eyelashes that enhance your doe-eyed look. You only wear a pair of dangling earrings in yellow gold with a thin bracelet.

You walk out of your room – your dress matches a small glittering black pouch and you walk up to the elevator to go down to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. You cross the hall before arriving at a small staircase that allows you to enter the restaurant. You place yourself at the top of the steps to look for Ivar in the distance.

After a few seconds of observation, you see him. He’s dressed in a black suit and white shirt. He didn’t bother to put on a tie, just left the top two buttons open on his shirt and his hair falls on his shoulders. He didn’t do his hair and Gods, how sexy he is! He greets two men, one older than the other, and from the resemblance, it seems that they are father and son.

Ivar is smiling, not an ounce of anger or sadness in his eyes. He is friendly with the people around him. You take the opportunity to observe his beautiful blue eyes and you feel a strange sensation invade your whole body. No, no, no, you don’t have to fall in love with him. Not now, maybe never!

This is the first time you see Ivar like this and you discover another facet of his so atypical personality. Ivar turns his gaze to the stairs and discovers you with your beautiful dress, the slit on one side of your thigh gives a glimpse of your leg. He has stars in his eyes that you can notice in the distance. He walks up to you while you walk down the steps. He comes to meet you. “Y/N, you are…I can’t find the words…you are…incredibly beautiful!”

“Thank you, Ivar. I find you very charming,” you decide to tease him a little, “too bad you didn’t wear a tie”.

Ivar leans down near your ear to whisper to you “I have a tie. It is in my pocket but it will be useful to me with you after our dinner”.

You open your eyes as Ivar looks at you. The evening and the night promises to be very long.

Ivar gives you his arm to accompany you to your table where Floki is already settled and talks with a young man you think must be barely younger than you. Ivar introduces you to your hosts.

“Y/N, I introduce you to Ecbert with whom we are currently dealing, and his son, Aethelwulf.”

It’s very impressive that you’re here.

“Good evening. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“I see that Ivar still has a good taste for beautiful women!” Ecbert says.

You all sit around the table, you between Ivar and this young man whose name you don’t know yet. Floki rushes to introduce you proudly to him. “My dear Alfred, I present to you, Y/N, our new recruit. She is very talented, you should get along well.”

Alfred takes your hand by surprise and gives you a kiss-hand worthy of a romantic film. “Good evening, Y/N. I am Alfred, the grandson of Ecbert and son of Aethelwulf. You are ravishing”

You feel your cheeks heat up, smile back, and say very politely, “Nice to meet you, Alfred. Thank you very much and your family for welcoming us to this sumptuous hotel.”

Ivar doesn’t miss a second of the scene. He puts a hand on your right thigh which is exposed and exerts a strong pressure so that your attention is back to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half hours after dinner – when you had to juggle between Ecbert’s open flirting, Alfred’s little attentions, and especially Ivar’s jealousy – you go back to your room. Ivar is, of course, by your side like a bodyguard. “If we weren’t negotiating with Ecbert, I would have gladly punched him in the face…” Ivar whispers as the elevator takes you to your floor.

“Ivar, don’t be irritated by it. I don’t care about this Ecbert. I answered only out of politeness and I especially remained very professional.”

“Yes it is true, you have been very professional. I am… how do you say…” Ivar is looking for his words with an embarrassed look on his face.

“Proud of me?” There’s a big smile on your face because you know that’s exactly what he can’t say.

Ivar sketches a slight smile and does not answer. He’s too proud to admit what he feels for you. You arrive in front of your suite and Ivar glances to the left and then to the right before slamming you against the door of your room while kissing you passionately.

You put your arms on his broad, muscular shoulders. He holds you with one hand on your waist as he stabilizes himself with his crutch in his other hand. His tongue quickly finds yours. He’s greedy for your body. He can’t help but bite your lower lip when he decides to break the kiss.

You both enter your suite without saying a word. You put your bag on the sofa and put your jewels on the little table. Ivar goes directly into your room, he settles at the edge of your bed and when you enter the room, your eyes unfailingly find his own. His blue eyes pierce you and he has a dark look. A dominating look.

“Please settle next to me,” his tone is calm but authoritarian, so you do it.

“Yes Ivar, what do you want from me?” your voice is soft and fearless.

“Do you trust me?” He turns to you and says these words.

With a dubious air, you say, “Yes, why?”

“Here, it is me who asks the questions! Remember what I told you about my tie?”

“Yes, I remember Ivar.”

“Know that you are mine now! No man will ever lay his hands on you.” He gets up hard to position himself in front of you and pulls out a grey tie from his pocket. “Take off your dress and give me your hands!”

You swallow then pass each strap of your dress over your shoulders, you make a small movement of the pelvis to make it pass under your buttocks and finally you let it slide along your legs. It falls at your feet. From now on, you’re only wearing your black lace thong.

Then you turn your palms towards the sky and hand them over to Ivar. He ties your hands with his tie, makes two turns to join them, and ends up with a loop tight enough but not too tight so that he doesn’t cut off your blood circulation.

“Now lie down on the bed.” This a different Ivar standing in front of you. You don’t say a word and you do what he tells you to do. You step back slowly and you manage to sit on the edge of your bed. Ivar supports himself with the edge of the bed then drops his crutch which falls to the ground. He takes off his suit jacket and puts it delicately on the chair behind him, and undoes the buttons of his shirt one by one. Then he drops it along his arms and poses it on the jacket.

With the strength of his arms, he crawls up to you on the bed and hovers above you “Are you ready to satisfy all my desires and that I satisfy yours?”

“Yes…Ivar…”

It’s going to be a long, warm night…

**********

Thank you all for your reading

@youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @whenimaunicorn @zuxiezendler @therealcalicali @peaceisadirtyword @peachyboneless @bonniebird @salt-is-a-terrible-currency @saldelys @flokisdaughter @flowers-in-your-hayr @honestsycrets @oddsnendsfanfics @ijustwant2write @thevikingsheaux @castielsangelsx @alexhoghsource @a-mess-of-fandoms @laketaj24 @ivarswickedqueen @ivarsshieldmadien @hrhbella @lisinfleur @heathenarmyimagines @car-karaoke @vikings-imagine

#ivar the boneless #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #story #fanfic #vikings #kattegat #ragnarssons #reader #couple

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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Black - Chapter 9

This chapter was super hard on me and I'm not confident in it...

But here it is anyway...

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters : Thorin X OC

Rating : Mature

Warnings: Smut, struggle and a lot of changes of heart

Bringing his hand up, he slowly brushed his fingers through her hair a few times before slinging them gently around the nape of her neck and holding her there.

Whispering her true name, the one she had divulged that first night in her hut, he tilted his face slightly, brushing his lips across her brow. “Oh, sweetling.” He sighed.

“Yes?” Her breath was dancing on his skin, calling to him incessantly and he felt like he was suffocating. He needed the sweetness of the air that escaped her soft lips in quiet pants, and yet, he knew he was not entitled to this.

“It is something you can give away but once, Faith.” He warned, not sure if he was still only referencing a chaste kiss.

“There is nothing I hold that I would not give to you, my king.” She said, bringing up her empty palms alongside his body.

“Don’t tempt me, woman.” He muttered, scraping his fingertips along her hairline, and hearing her utter low mewling sounds.

“Am I? Tempting? At least a little bit?” A new note crept into her voice, a hint of power tinging her breathless, joyous surprise.

“If you only knew. Always bewitching me with your sweet words, traipsing around half-naked and fragile as an autumn leaf, singing to the earth and the sky.” He mumbled, almost angry at her for having that effect on him.

Part of him wanted to take what she offered greedily, push her down and ravage more than her mouth, but her eyes were full of trust; he could not take advantage of her ignorance.

“I am young in the eyes of your people, I know it well, but for my own people, I am a woman grown, a woman past her prime already. I am not afraid.” She said in a hushed voice, pressing in closer. It had been too long since last she had found any release; it would have been unseemly to do so with him only a stone’s throw away, but her body yearned for it.

“You’ve talked about a kiss.” He sounded confused and slightly alarmed.

“Yes.” She smiled, tilting up her own face in invitation, holding his burning gaze that swirled with silver stars dancing on a night sky. “I am feeling very brazen tonight.” She admitted. “But…” Her voice faltered when he didn’t move.

“Maybe you’ll have to touch my hair after all so at least one of us doesn’t lose their courage.” He smirked and sighed when her hand slid into his hair, her long, narrow fingers carding through it tenderly.

“Courage restored. Now, how do you rule, Thorin-king?”

She gave one of his braids a playful tug when his eyes drifted off into the distance, his brows furrowing with thoughts she couldn’t fathom. “You’re the one who offered me something…” She reminded him in an inviting whisper.

“I did not expect you to ask for something that would be so…risky.” He murmured. “Are you afraid of a maiden, warrior-king?”

“No.” He sounded half-offended, and the other half was most probably a lie. “My neck starts to hurt…” She complained lightly, sighing when his broad hand cupped her head tighter again to support it while she stared up at him.

His face drifted in and out of focus, unbearably beautiful and marked by the deep contemplative mood he seemed to be in.

“You asked for it, woman.” He grumbled warningly as if he feared that she’d change her mind after all and run into the solid door like a trapped bird as soon as he came any closer. She hummed her agreement, letting her head rest against his palm trustingly.

It was the lightest of brushes; her king, her master, her friend let his lips glide over hers for a second, with so little pressure that it felt like warm velvet being pulled along her aching skin, and before she could even reciprocate, he was gone.

Her eyebrows shot up in silent indignation. Was that all she was worth? “Was this kiss a gauge of your fondness?” She asked.

“It was a translation of my respect for you.” His teeth clacked shut with an audible sound of frustration. “What would you have me do, woman? Crush you like a sparrow?” He sounded definitely exasperated now. Faith knew that men could be fools and, in this moment, she realised that even mythical dwarven kings were no exception to that rule, so, plunging her hand back into his hair and clenching it into a fist, she pulled his head – that she would have believed was made of wood if she had not known that it was carved of stone – back into her reach and pressed her lips on his.

He could keep his gifts of gold and his respectful distance, she thought while her body roared like a fire under her writhing skin. A smell of tobacco and leather, interlaced with fresh air and warm stone, pervaded the space and, in an almost dream-like trance, she picked up on hints of pine and sandal wood. Pushing in even further, Faith traced the stubborn line of his lips with her tongue and breathed in the tortured sigh escaping them.

Her whole body was arched against his as she tried yet again to fling her whole weight, and every ounce of strength she had, into her physical dealings with a dwarrow, only to have him stand firm and unmoving as if rooted to the ground.

Within the blink of an eye though, the impossible, the inconceivable happened and Faith witnessed the melting of stone when Thorin, the impassable, brought his other hand up to cup her behind, lifting her higher and returning the urgency of her kiss.

There was heat bleeding into her skin, radiating in pulsating waves from his body, and Faith clawed at the tunic he was wearing still, desperate to feel the beating of his heart.

“Woman.” He rumbled again, low in his chest, and she gave his hair another tug, much less gentle than the first ones.

His hand held her up perfectly, so she slung her legs around his midriff, one hand clawed into his tunic and the other holding on to his mane as if she was riding a wild horse bareback.

“Say my name!” He demanded again as she gasped for air, drowning in his eyes, and unwilling to move away for longer than a second for fear that he’d decide that he had enough of her kisses. Despite his actions, she could feel him hold back and pull away; he seemed a ghostly visitor more than an actual person in this second, and she half-expected to wake up bathed in cold sweat any moment, her sweet dream dissolving in the morning mists.

“No titles, just my name. Say my name!”

She whispered his name, blind to anything but his beauty, deaf and dead to the world. He brushed away a strand of her own hair and smiled: “Your first kiss was not supposed to be anything like that, sweetling.”

Regret tinged his voice; she could hear the sadness of the old when seeing the young squander gifts they sorely missed themselves.

“It should have been sweet.” Thorin brushed his thumb over her cheek where the remnants of her injuries painted dying rainbows on her skin and touched his lips almost reverently to hers for a second. “It should have been cautious.” This time, he lingered a little longer, intensifying the delicious pressure and sucking ever so gently on her lower lip. “It should have been seductive.” He went on varying the constellations of his lips on hers, a tantalising dance of sensations and movement.

“It should have been with someone you care about.” He spoke against her lips. “It should have been given freely and not coerced by duty.” She shot back, biting down on his lower lip teasingly.

“Coerced? Oh, sweetling…” He chuckled. He had hesitated, sure, but it was not as if he had thrown her off as soon as she tightened the reins she had wound around his senses and mind. Even now, her legs ensnared him, and her hand was clenched in his hair and yet she had the audacity to speak as if he had outright rejected her.

“And I do care about you.” She added, softer, nibbling tenderly on his skin which made him shift under her, shivering with suppressed urges that set his blood ablaze. “Do you?” He sounded doubtful. Of course, she liked him well as a friend, she had said so many times and, unlike most of her kind he had met, she seemed to understand and respect his status amongst his own people, but did she care for him the way women cared for those they let kiss them?

“Your sister might be right, and you ARE a vain creature.” Faith laughed. “Demanding to hear your own name and to be showered with praise and compliments.”

“She said that? Hmmm, we’ll have words.” Thorin grumbled, looking thoroughly displeased with this piece of news.

“Thorin, I do care for you, and I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me again rather than have words with your sister.” Faith purred against his skin. “Let go of my hair, woman, so I can bolt your door. It would be very unfortunate for both of us if someone tried to have a conversation with you…only to find me half undressed and you wrapped around me like ivy.”

Faith untangled the silken strands from her fingers but kept the pressure of her legs steady. “Alright.” Thorin shrugged, moving over to the door as if she was naught more than a cumbersome garment, his hand warm and solid under her butt.

The bolt was driven home with a dull click that echoed in Faith’s head.

“You are not that undressed at all.” Faith commented, feeling her own shift move inexorably up her thighs with every step that he took. “I thought you were afraid to see me undressed? Bad luck and so on?” He cocked one eyebrow.

“I have luck on my side.” She replied with a smile, wrapping one of his braids around her finger and kissing the tip of his nose.

He had to laugh about that but getting off any more of the many layers formal clothing demanded was rather a difficult enterprise with a woman slung around him and clinging to his body like yet another coat. “If you permit then?”

It was a miracle that his tunic had not just fallen to ashes and dust, crumpled between his burning skin and hers, he thought as he shrugged out of it. “Oh, great creator, I shall have to make adequate sacrifices.” Faith hissed under her breath.

“You are hellbent on ruining the both of us, huh?” Thorin laughed darkly as he saw her lick her lips in quiet contemplation.

Every thought of fatigue fled Faith’s mind as she beheld what could only be described as marvellous; he looked like the princes her nan had described in her fairy tales, like a character out of a bed-time-story for adults.

With her off his chest, quite literally, Thorin could catch his breath and realisation ran like ice through his heated blood; her swollen lips and her gleaming eyes screamed of the trespass he had been about to commit.

“Let me pour you some wine, Mistress. You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” Thorin picked up a carafe and handed her a sturdy mug, filled to the brim. “I do not want to talk, Thorin-king, you…you’re half naked. What is there to talk about?”

He was stalling, Faith realised. “Am I that repugnant?” She took a deep swig of the slightly sour wine that made her tongue prickle. “You don’t know what you’re messing with, woman.” Thorin said slowly, sitting down on the bed so he wouldn’t be towering over her during this tremendously important conversation. It would have been too easy to let himself be caught up in her warm beauty; the door was locked, they were alone and there was a bed…but she deserved better and, as he knew what this would possibly entail and what she risked, it was his responsibility to steer her away from a fatal mistake.

It felt like tearing out his own guts and throwing them into the fire, he had to admit, but he would not falter, he would not give into the greed that was the curse of his bloodline and the bad reputation of his people. Not if he could help it.

Looking down at his bared chest, he realised how close he had come to being seduced and how strong the spell he was under really was, for him to undress haphazardly in a woman’s room, throwing over decorum and years of training.

He should have been able to restrain his own needs and urges better; it was shameful how much he yearned to kiss her again until the rising tide of lust would wash both of them away, along with all the better judgement and the common sense that held him back now.

“I will leave this place in hopes of reconquering my homeland, I need you to be safe in these halls.” He sighed. “I cannot ruin your name. I cannot leave you soiled, exposed to the gossiping of vicious tongues.”

“Nobody needs to know?” Faith cocked her head. He laughed wryly: “They would know, darling. It…what you have in mind is complicated, especially between someone as frail as you and…well, me.” He gestured at his broad chest.

“I might hurt you, and Faith, I’d never risk injuring you. You have to understand, I care too much for your well-being.”

“I understand.” Faith tried hard to swallow the tears that were welling up against her will or better judgement. “Don’t cry, sweetling, ghivashel, don’t!” He felt like a villain, but how could he make her understand that there was an actual threat to her safety? She felt rejected, of course she would, she had all but explicitly offered him her maidenhood and he had stepped back.

Did this make him a liar? He had willingly given in to her kisses, he had reciprocated them, and now he wouldn’t see this through for oh so many reasons that she could not fathom.

It pained him to think that she might believe, if even for but a moment, that it was a lack of attraction on his side that made him pull back. If he could have, he would have shown her the extent of his despair that was throbbing almost painfully against his thigh; yes, he might have brandished the angry, red proof of his desire for her, but he didn’t think that it would allay her pain and confusion. Contradicting feelings and desires swirled heavily in his mind and soul, and he sighed.

“Come here, darling one, come.” He beckoned her to him and embraced the torture of having her nestled on his lap, pulling his fingers through her silken hair, and breathing in her sweet smell. It would have been simple to let her believe that he did not want her, but he couldn’t bear lying to her. “Don’t think for one second that I do not want this, you, us.” He started.

“One day, we’ll have time, oh so much time, sweet one.” He promised. “My life is running out already, Thorin-king, my time is short compared to yours.” She contradicted him vehemently. “Soon, I swear. I shall make haste in my conquest. I will fulfil your every wish, I promise, once Erebor is reclaimed and I know that you are safe and cared for.”

She was not secure here; she was a stranger, a foreigner, and he was afraid that once he left with most of the people she had learned to trust, there would be considerable danger to her life and sanity. Her good name and her integrity would both attract suitors and keep unsavoury characters away from her, or at least, so he hoped. He could not destroy that layer of literal protection, stripping it from her in selfish voraciousness when she needed it most.

“Thorin-king…what if you get lost again?” She asked quietly. “I will find my way back to the right path. Neither storm nor contrary forces shall stop me.” He replied calmly and she believed him.

“In that case, add me to the spoils of your imminent victory, darling king.” She stepped up to his sitting form and rested her cheek against the crown of his head tenderly. She did not see the fire that his boiling blood drove into his eyes upon hearing her sweet, selfless willingness to risk her hale body and her social standing to be his; the torturous need of his life and limb were burning bright within him. God, how he yearned for her, for everything she offered and everything she didn’t yet know she could give to a man. He wanted that sweet mouth on his body and her tender words in his ears while he covered her like a blanket, protecting her, taking her to a world she had never been in before and stay there until the end of time.

Taking off her shift, she stood, naked as the day she had been born and turned in the golden light of the fire crackling in the hearth. “This is what I offer, now and every other day, Thorin-king.” She said in a low, trembling voice.

“You asked me before and I repeat: when you call for me, I shall come.” – “You are beautiful.” He sighed; her beauty in the warm glow of the flames mesmerized him and, once again, he felt himself totter at the edge of control.

His hands closed around her wrists, pulling her close once more and he pressed his lips against her collar bone in wordless adoration. Her soft moan drove him half to distraction, but this was neither the place nor the moment for those thoughts and actions. He wanted to have time and a place that was his own; he wanted to have her, oh desperately so, but he would lay her down on silk and furs and caress her without the looming shadow of impending doom nipping at his heels.

First, he would have to prove himself worthy of her faith and his people’s hopes before he could allow himself the reward of getting lost in her flesh; but, oh, how hard it was to say no to the alluring softness of her skin and the dizzying smell of her arousal. He would carry the memory of her self-forgotten kisses across the plains and the mountains, safe within his heart and burning within his veins.

This one thing though, this one gift, would not be ripped from her, hastily, in passing, casually; no, he would honour her and her sacrifice duly, he would spend hours coaxing the sweetest of sounds from her and he would revel in them.

“So are you, Thorin.” She smiled at him with all that affection he had learned to cherish so deeply. “Will you still call me beautiful me when I am king? Will you let me have then what nobody ever had before and never give it to someone else?” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back. A terrible fear had taken hold of him; it was not possible, it was not right, it was not decent to deflower her here and now, but still, the idea of someone else claiming that privilege pained him like a poisoned blade thrust ever so slowly between his ribs. It might have been unfair, but he wanted her to know that it was out of respect for the gift she offered that he had declined. He needed her to promise to hold on to it until they were reunited.

“You are my friend, Thorin, and I’ve cared for you wandering, I’ve respected you poor, and I shall admire you victorious.” She answered cryptically, pretending not to hear the underlying meaning of his words.

She would be willing to be his in ways she would never be anybody else’s ever again, Faith knew, but her life was short, and he would have to find a proper queen sooner or later. He was emotional now, that was to be expected, the most important quest of his life was about to begin; a way to right all the wrongs, a redemption, a rewriting of history. Too many half-truths had been spoken recklessly, too many things had transpired that had not been planned, and he had no idea what he was talking about in this moment; she could forget, she would forgive, it was not in his nature to lead people astray and give them false hopes. Not him.

Inner turmoil, that was the explanation for his words, he was merely relieved to be back with his family and apprehensive of the long road ahead to the Lonely Mountain. Also, he clearly had a different notion of time.

She knew not what he expected to happen on his quest, she did not understand why he’d doubt her eternal adulation of his person, but she was too vulnerable and too scared to probe any further. There were other things that needed to be resolved first…

The end of the long wanderings, a return home…she had been wrong to distract him from this singular purpose that would define more than just his own fate. She wished she could promise him what he wanted her to say, but dwarrows lived long and they had a good memory of broken vows and false oaths.

How could she have promised him more than her affection when it was worth nothing? It had been so easy for him to rebuff her, and she would have to nurse this wound in private; the sting of it ran deep and its ragged claws burying deep within her soul were a pain that was new and shocking to her. Still, she did not withhold words he had asked for out of petty vengeance; he seemed so sure that he knew about risks and dangers she was unaware of, well, she was painfully conscious of realities he seemed to wilfully ignore, like the fact that she might not live to see the day he was crowned king.

Lie, to ease his mind, to give him courage, a voice inside her head whispered, but she loved him too dearly to do him wrong like that. He might well turn out to be her first and her last lover if he did not tire of her before her life expired, but that meant nothing in the grand scheme of his glorious purpose and his illustrious life. They had both tried to make this situation into something momentous, something memorable, and they had both failed miserably, shipwrecked on the rocks of social conventions, the promise of dark times ahead and physical incompatibilities. How ridiculous it all sounded!

Then again, he had been more gracious and generous than her, swearing that he would bed her once Erebor was reclaimed. If, Faith thought, if Erebor was reclaimed within her lifetime and if he survived the ordeals that would become necessary, then he might reconsider taking her as a lover; one of many, one in a long line of lovers, or, worse, the only one. One he would lose too soon and that might leave scars on his soul, no, he did not care for her in that way, no matter the inflection of his raw voice.

He had never sworn fidelity to her; he had merely asked for hers. She should have said yes to that, ignoring what it meant for her and how extensive that oath would have been, but she had been too afraid to promise more than she could offer.

Silence fell between them, filled with words unspoken and desires unfulfilled.

“I have stayed too long already.” Thorin got up jerkily, grabbing his clothes, but she stayed his hand.

“Let me see what you’ve promised me, give me something to hold on to while you’re away.” She was a hypocrite, but she needed this much more than him. The months apart would feel longer to her, and she would think of him as there was nothing else to think of, while he would be too occupied with his great deeds to spare her any thought.

“Woman.” He shook his head but took off his breeches and his small clothes in swift, almost despondent movements.

She gasped, breathless, amazed. He really did look like he was hewn from the most elegant of stones, his body made up of strong, broad planes partially powdered with dark hair. As she directed her eyes to that one part of the male anatomy that had occupied so many of her maiden dreams, she revised her original assessment. This had not been a mason’s work, this was a sculptor’s doing; no matter how fine the chisel, such beauty and delicate curve could only be achieved by painstaking moulding of the wet clay.

How she longed to run her own palms along the smooth surface again and again until she could feel the perfection manifest under her fingertips. She had of course seen parts of him undressed, bits and pieces, flashes of skin and wounds, but this was different; this was unapologetic nakedness in all its glory, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the strength of his limbs.

“Glorious!” She exclaimed and touched her forehead in a sign of devotion he had observed in some of the men he had met.

The roaring fire in his veins was not abated by the expression on her face though, there was that ever-present admiration and the respectful awe, but he could also read hunger and unveiled desire in her eyes that drove her to squirm deliciously.

“Can you now see why this would be a potential risk to your health?” He asked, cocking one eyebrow; maybe, he was indeed a tiny tad vain, but she could not even open doors on her own, how would she support his weight or welcome him inside of her?

“I can see that…” Faith whispered, approaching him like a wild animal, one hand outstretched in front of her. She advanced until her hand landed squarely on his chest, tangling her fingers in the coarser hair in the same way she had done with his mane before.

“Sweetling.” He murmured, moaning under his breath when her body pressed up against his: warm, soft, and very alive.

“I do understand.” Faith went on, kissing his neck just underneath the line where his beard ended.

“Faith…” He groaned, his hands wrapping around the small of her back, even though he was not sure if he was trying to push her away or pull her closer still. “Thank you for this. I shall treasure the memory.” She whispered against his skin while her fingers slid into his hair and raked across his scalp.

He would not go back on his word, Thorin swore to himself, but it wouldn’t hurt either one of them to kiss her again. At least he hoped that it wouldn’t because, already, his mouth was on hers, plundering her sweet surrender shamelessly.

Her hands tightened and he could feel her legs clenching in waves. Convinced of his own strength, he dared to let his own hand cup her mount and had to discover how wrong he had been. She was drenched. This would take every ounce of self-control to step away from, even more so because she whimpered into his mouth while pressing eagerly against his palm.

Time was flying, he had been on his way out of her room, he tried to cut through the red mist overtaking his thoughts. How had he ended up with her sex weeping all over his skin while he sucked in her whimpering pleas like a drowning man the saving air of the surface?

This was not the way it was supposed to be, he thought, she deserved more than messy kisses in an empty room. “Sweetling.” He sighed…and cursed.

It was but the slightest of caresses, so light it might have been a gust of wind, but there was no draft in the room and one of her hands had disappeared from his hair. “May I?” She breathed against his lips, smelling, and tasting of tart wine and sweet submission. He wanted to shake his head and ended up nodding, dazed. His teeth clacked shut with the violence of an earthquake as her fingers danced along his length, searching, as if she was a blind person trying to identify an unknown object.

He was not a youngling; he had known handsy encounters in dark corners, but her beatific smile unfurling as her eyes fluttered shut drove him half-mad; he was torn between the rising need to just possess her and damned be the consequences and the urge to lay the whole world at her feet.

“So warm.” She mumbled to herself, visibly happy to have discovered the secret of manhood and to have the opportunity to explore. Thorin had to consider as well that she had no idea what this felt like for him; he had been on the road with her for a considerable time, thinking about her, seeing her half-naked and now, she was in his arms, her fingers wrapping and unwrapping around his cock. He would not make a fool of himself, but it became increasingly harder to swallow the sounds of desperate need bubbling up at the back of his throat.

As the low grunt broke through his defences, she shrunk back, asking if she had hurt him somehow. Her…hurting him…What a ludicrous idea. “No, sweetling, but you make it really hard not to break all the sensible resolutions I have just explained in detail.” He chuckled darkly, struggling to regain the upper hand over his baser needs.

“I am sorry, I am being indecent.” She murmured quickly, hiding her hands behind her back. “You’re not. I…I wish we had time.” He let his forehead sink against hers before pressing a tender kiss on her brow.

“At least now you know how desperately I desire you. I shall leave for Erebor soon, I cannot wait to reclaim the Lonely Mountain and bed you in a way you deserve. Wait for me!” He whispered, his hands caressing her cheek gently.

Faith knew that she would wait until her hair started fading to white and her eyes were no longer able to make out the outlines on the horizon; whatever time was granted to her would be spent keeping a watchful eye on the sky to make sure not to miss his missive. “I shall.” She promised, that much, she could swear easily.

“Oh, this will be a long night.” Thorin groaned, as he tried to wrangle his body back into his clothes. “Do not close the door, I have to be up early, and I do not care to wake the whole settlement.” Faith called out to him, slipping between her sheets.

“You are naked, woman. I will not leave your door open. Especially…” He waved at her heated face and her rosy body, flushed with the fire he had kindled within her. If he could feel her heat, who was to say that someone else would not wander this way and be less scrupulous than him?

“Do NOT lock me in.” she pleaded quietly. “Wait there! Don’t move!” He barked and disappeared, fully dressed again. Within a few minutes, he was back, carrying what looked suspiciously like a sleeping roll. “What are you doing, Thorin-king?”

“I will guard your door like that blasted dragon sleeps on the treasure of my family.” He grumbled, sitting down on the flimsy-looking piece of fabric.

“You cannot do that!” She exclaimed, propelling herself out of bed, dragging the sheets behind her and kneeling in front of him to stare at him severely. “You have seen me sleep on the ground, woman, do not act surprised! Beds will be a rare commodity on the road to Erebor as well…I can stay here without dying.” He laughed.

“You are king here; you cannot sleep in front of my door. You need your bed. I’ll be fine.” She promised, encircling his bulging biceps with both her hands, and giving it a tentative shake that made him cock one eyebrow in confusion.

“Mistress, you don’t want your door closed and I don’t want to find you despoiled and bleeding in the morning. So, I will stay right here. Don’t worry, if I get too tired, someone else will take over for me.” He assured her, caressing her wild hair tenderly.

Not only does he intend to sleep on the hard floor, Faith thought, but he also planned to stay awake for the bigger part of the night. Stubborn, headstrong dwarf!

#hobbit #thorin oakenshield #oc #before erebor #before the quest #light smut #struggle #black #difficult chapter #sex is hard #I'm so sorry

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lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip: Pt 30 - Mission

Author’s note: no smut in this one :P

---

On one of the van's monitors, you watch a live video feed from Sana as she sits in the cafe across the street from the SM HQ main entrance, the long lens DSLR on the table next to her pointed right at its front doors. The camera makes a series of clicking sounds as Irene emerges from the building and steps into a waiting black car, an air of haughty arrogance following her every step of the way. From the back of the tech van, parked a few blocks away in a secluded alleyway, you watch as the still captures from her camera appear on a monitor.

To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

You were thankful, at least, for the presence of Jihyo, who was sitting between you and Jeongyeon in the rear of the van, the three of you facing the bank of monitors, laptops, and other tech equipment that Jeongyeon was somehow operating - all at the same time, it seemed. Silence weighed heavy in the air, aside from the tapping of Jeongyeon's fingers as she typed out some indecipherable code on a terminal that you presume kept everything running smoothly.

Doing your best to ignore the tension in the air, you focus instead on the jittery picture on one of the main monitors - the live video feed from Nayeon's jacket camera. You watch as she nears the alleyway that contained the side entrance door to SM - the entrance code to which she had convinced Jay to give up earlier in the week.

"Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

---

"Well that sounded unpleasant."

You don't bother to look up from your desk, where you have buried your head in your hands. By the sound of her voice and the heavy click of the oversized combat boots she is wearing, you know that the young woman who has just entered your office is none other than Jeongyeon. The large black mens' boots gave her outfit a distinctly Jeongyeon vibe, given the fact that the rest of her clothing consisted of a rather formal looking leopard print cocktail dress.

You hear her close the door to your office and pull up a chair as you rub your face one last time in a vain attempt to rid yourself of stress.

"You wanna talk about it, boss?" she says, sounding genuinely concerned.

She was clearly referring to the way Nayeon had left your tech test meeting in the parking lot; given that the door to the van was open Jeongyeon likely heard everything that was said between you, including the way the older girl had stormed off after noticing Sana's clothing choice for that day.

"What's there to talk about? Just another goddamn issue to deal with on top of the shit sundae that has been my life in the past six months or so."

Jeongyeon crosses her arms and those long perfect legs, a look of worry on her soft features.

"I guess it has been... rough for you the past little while. Maybe we should cancel or postpone this op until Nayeon gets over this? She seems a little... emotionally compromised at the moment."

"It's fine," you answer, "she's nothing if not a professional. She'll be there at 3."

Jeongyeon glances over to the wall clock. It was 1:15.

"What exactly happened between you two?" she asks, hesitation plain in her voice, "I mean, I know what happened in your past is none of my business... but you two clearly have some history. It was a little hard to ignore the little soap opera scene that was playing out fifteen feet away from me."

You look up at the young woman and take a moment to compose yourself.

"Nayeon and I met in university. We dated - long term. But then I got a job offer from JYP that necessitated me moving away, and she got accepted into a Masters' program; so we broke up. It wasn't a... smooth breakup, to put it simply."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It is what it is. Believe me when I said her showing up to help us with this whole Irene thing is a surprise - to be honest, I never thought I'd ever see her again. She was the first person on the list of problems I hoped I'd never have to deal with."

Jeongyeon takes a moment to gather her thoughts, bringing a slender hand to her mouth and tapping her lips with a fingertip. A couple of moments of silence pass.

"You... seem to have a lot of girls on your list."

You are taken aback by Jeongyeon's words - a little offended by her insinuation that you didn't know how to manage your relationships with women.

"You know about my relationship with the girls on the team. You've never had a problem with that. And is it so hard to believe I've had past girlfriends?"

"No, it's not that - not that at all. I don't mean to judge you."

"Then what do you mean, Jeongyeon?"

The young woman takes a moment to compose her words, apparently taken aback by your defensiveness.

"I just... I guess I've just been bumped down another spot on the list."

She casts her eyes down and away from you as a look of sadness overtakes her features. She had made plain her feelings for you, and to see yet another woman enter your life vying for your attention must have hit her hard. You immediately regret speaking so defensively.

"I... I'm sorry, Jeongyeon. I misunderstood you. I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay," she says, waving a hand away, "I didn't mean to make things so serious all of a sudden. I'm sorry. I should go. I'll see you at 3."

Jeongyeon stands and turns to leave your office, but she is stopped - when you reach over and grab her by the wrist.

You weren't even sure how you did it - your body seemed to move of its own accord, quickly rising and reaching out for her slender arm, doing something, anything, to keep her from leaving. It was almost automatic, involuntary; and it didn't sink in that you had done it until Jeongyeon turns around to look you in the eye. Her eyes are glistening.

"Jeongyeon," you manage to say, "I'm sorry. Please. Don't go."

You stand there in silence for a few moments that seem to stretch out into infinity, your hand clutching her wrist, your eyes searching for something in each others' that neither of you were quite sure could actually be found.

"I need to know," Jeongyeon finally says, her voice surprisingly stern, as though she were mustering every ounce of courage she had to speak, "I need to know if we're ever going to happen. I've told you I would wait for you while you figured yourself out... but I'm tired of waiting. I need to know. I need to know if you're ever going to be with me."

"Jeongyeon," you say, unable to come up with anything else to say. Jeongyeon's eyes are glassy with tears, but the tone of her voice is strong and confident.

"I need to know if you feel the same way. I need to know if I'm ever going to be more than just another girl on your list."

"I..."

"Why can't you see it?" she interrupts, her frustration and anger lending her voice strength, "Why can't you see how much stress and drama and heartache all these other girls are causing you? Momo, Sana, Nayeon - all these other girls - all they do is burden you. All you do is deal with their bullshit. Why can't you see how easy it would be if we were together? Why can’t you see how much I care about you?"

You had known for a long time about Jeongyeon, and how she felt about you. She had told you as such on multiple occasions - and it was evidently obvious enough that others around the office had noticed it, too. You are suddenly unable to look at her in the eye anymore, and instead your gaze drifts down to where you are still clutching her wrist - except you aren't holding her there anymore, your hand having drifted down of its own accord to hold her hand in yours.

It wasn't until just then, with your hand clutching hers, that you realized how you felt. Everything she said - everything she said about the drama the other girls had brought into your life, and the unending need to handle everything they threw at you - it was all true.

And here was a woman who wanted you, only you, and nothing else. And yet you'd done nothing but lead her on, nothing but merely acknowledge her feelings for you even while you went off and dealt with other women, even while she waited for you, patiently, waiting for you to realize how wonderful a relationship with her could be. She was beautiful and smart and funny and everything you ever needed - why hadn't you seen it earlier?

You want to say something to her, something that will lay bare your feelings - but she doesn't give you the opportunity. She lets go of your hand, and your heart aches at the separation.

"You know what hotel room I'm in," she says, her tone still strong even if her eyes were not, "come to me tonight, once this is all done. Then I'll know. If you don't, then we can forget anything ever existed between us. I'll give up my feelings for you, and we can go back to just being co-workers with benefits."

She turns and walks out of your office, but she lingers around the door before leaving.

"Either way, I'll be one less problem on your list."

---

"Command, Pink 1. Positive ID on VIP leaving the building. Sending confirmation images."

"Pink 1, Command. Acknowledged. Standby for further orders."

To say there was a tense atmosphere in the van was a bit of an understatement.

"Command, Blue 1. At staging point. Ready to commence operation."

"Blue 1, Command. PID on VIP leaving the building. Be advised, nest is empty, lights are green," Jihyo answers.

"Blue 1 acknowledges. Commencing."

You might have just imagined it, but from the second Nayeon had declared she was starting the operation the way she walked seemed to have changed - if the decreased shakiness of the video feed was anything to go by; her steps seemed more stable as she adopted the persona of an SM employee. As you had predicted, she was nothing but professional once she got to work.

She reaches the keypad to the nondescript black door on the side of the building, and without hesitation - for she knew she was probably on camera - she punches in Jay's code on the keypad next to it. Through the camera's audio feed you hear a loud beep and the click of what was probably the door unlocking. The three of you in the van breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that Jay's code had actually worked - the first of many hurdles.

Nayeon opens the door and enters the building. The hallway she steps into is basic, nothing out of the ordinary. Jay had said that Irene used this entrance as a way to meet contacts that she didn't want to be seen walking in through the front door, and so you weren't surprised by the mundane nature of the hallway - a stark contrast to the otherwise sleek, hypermodern design that pervaded the rest of the building.

There is a single door to the left, and Nayeon strides toward it, every step confident, self-assured, seeming to anyone watching (and she probably was being watched, if the numerous security cameras were any indication) that she belonged there.

Beyond the door is a simply furnished waiting room, with two leather couches in the middle of it, a coffee table between them, and a desk next to the only other door out of the room - a desk with a very surprised looking receptionist.

The receptionist, a young woman, stands, seemingly surprised by Nayeon's entrance. She bows cautiously and greets her in Korean. Even without understanding the language you know she is asking what Nayeon's business is, and presumably whether she has an appointment. The two begin to converse politely.

"Nayeon told her she doesn't have an appointment - but that Irene is expecting her," Jihyo translates, "she's telling the receptionist she'll just wait in Irene's office."

Nayeon continues towards the door to Irene’s office, not giving the receptionist an opportunity to stop her. The nervous looking receptionist does her best to physically get in Nayeon's way, an apologetic tone in her voice as she gestures towards the leather couches, presumably so she could confirm Nayeon's identity with Irene before allowing her inside.

Nayeon's demeanor changes - and even without knowing the meaning of her words you can detect the introduction of venom into her tone.

"She's insisting Irene is expecting her, and that she should be let into her office. The receptionist wants her to sit and wait for Irene."

The two go back and forth for awhile, and the faux impatience and anger in Nayeon's tone steadily rises. The girl could act - the sheer, utter confidence she carried in her personal life served her well in her professional one as well, it seemed.

"She's threatening the receptionist," Jihyo translates with a small, subtle grin on her lips, "she's saying if she doesn't let her into Irene's office, Irene will hear about it and it'll cost her her job."

The young receptionist is visibly flustered, and you feel a momentary sense of pity at the situation Nayeon had put her in. Nayeon, however, feels no such sympathy, and with a few more terse words that sound like a command and a sharp nod of her head towards the door, the receptionist reaches over and opens the way to Irene's office. The receptionist bows deeply in apology as Nayeon enters and slams the door behind her.

Nayeon was now where she needed to be - Irene’s office, where she decided there was the best chance for finding something to incriminate Irene and SM. The office consisted of a large wooden desk with a laptop on it, and behind that a series of minimalist filing cabinets. Irene’s leather desk chair was large and opulent, but facing the desk for her guests were two spartan chairs; it was a layout meant to place Irene in a position of power with whomever she met, leaving no doubt as to who was in charge.

"Command, Blue 1. I'm in. Commencing search."

Almost immediately a sense of urgency that wasn’t there previously overtakes Nayeon, as though a switch had been flipped inside her; she dashes over to the desk, producing a USB drive that Jeongyeon had equipped her with. She quickly plugs it into the presumably locked and encrypted laptop.

“Give me five minutes,” Jeongyeon says, as she quickly begins typing code into a terminal.

Nayeon doesn’t waste any time, and she quickly turns to the filing cabinets. She pulls the first one open and begins rifling through the paper files she finds inside, pulling a few folders out and placing the contents onto the desk. She pulls out her phone, and immediately begins taking photos of the documents.

This goes on for a few minutes, and while there was no immediate threat to her, you still found yourself worried for Nayeon’s safety; at any moment SM security could have burst through the door and caught her red handed. Every second she spent on SM property, she was in danger.

“I’m in!” Jeongyeon announces, seemingly having gained access to the contents of Irene’s laptop, “I’m downloading to the drive.”

“How long will that take?” Jihyo asks.

“About ten minutes. There’s terabytes of data here,” Jeongyeon answers. As Nayeon’s device downloads text and images, previews of each file scroll on one of the monitors in front of you.

“Blue 1, you’ll have to hold for ten minutes,” Jihyo relays.

“Understood,” Nayeon replies, not skipping a beat as she returns the files she is working on to the drawer before grabbing another handful and starting again. You don’t have time to look at exactly what she is photographing, but you do catch glimpses of the JYP logo - several black and white photo of members of your team, obviously taken from a long distance.

You watch Jeongyeon bring a hand to her mouth in shock as several photos of her at a cafe with Choa flash briefly on the monitors.

“Fucking bitch,” Jihyo says out loud. Briefly, her entire service record flashes on the screen - her resume, her case records, even her psych evaluations.

“How the hell did she get all this shit? What the hell is she planning?” Jeongyeon hisses, still in shock. Neither Jihyo nor you are able to answer. Your fists clench in anger at the scale of Irene’s newly discovered treachery.

“Jesus, there’s a lot here,” Nayeon quips as she flips through another folder and snaps more pictures, “plenty enough for invasion of privacy charges, at least.”

“That’s not enough,” you snap, “we need to catch her on more. I want her in jail.”

“I agree - there has to be something more substantial,” Jihyo adds, “something that implicates her in something big.”

Nayeon continues her search, finishing up with her current folder before returning it to the cabinet. Instead of grabbing the next one in order, she flips through the files, evidently looking for something with an interesting label.

Her fingers stop suddenly when a black folder comes into view - it is grainy and blurry on the video monitor, but even you can see that it was clearly a folder of importance.

On the label for the folder are two stark letters: YG.

“That’s it,” Jihyo says with a tone of urgency, “that’s gotta have something on the YG case!”

“The YG case?” You ask. You had known that Irene had played some part in the recent fall of one of the larger companies in your industry, but you didn’t know many of the details.

“YG was one of the big players, “Jihyo explains, her eyes not once straying from the monitor where Nayeon has begun combing through the file, “until a few years ago, when Irene brought down their leadership with a combination of blackmail and bribery. Rumour had it their R&D group was on the verge of a tech breakthrough - until all four members of their core research team disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Jeongyeon asks.

“Yeah - one day they were here, the next day they were gone. Since everyone knows Irene had a hand in bringing down the company, everyone just assumed she had a part to play in their disappearance too, but there isn’t any evidence to prove that. SM didn’t debut any new tech after taking down YG either, which they would have done if they’d had a hold on the R&D group’s work.”

“Jesus…” Jeongyeon hisses; she knew first hand what Irene’s people were capable of, having been a victim of it herself. “Is it possible that the team went into hiding? What if they knew Irene was on their tail, and they went underground to keep SM and Irene from getting their hands on the tech they were working on?”

“That’s a possibility,” Jihyo answers, “we know SM wanted to take YG down because they were a business rival, but the possibility of stealing their tech at the same time is probably what motivated them to send Irene after them.”

Nayeon continues her scanning of the files - until a knock on the door of the office startles her and the three of you in the van.

Nayeon freezes for only a moment until her training kicks in and she moves, with admirable calm, into action.

“Command, Blue 1. Update on the drive?”

“Blue 1, Command. Six minutes,” Jihyo answers after glancing over at Jeongyeon’s screen.

Nayeon closes up the YG file and places it on top of the laptop, covering up the USB drive, before walking towards the door. Taking a breath, she opens it swiftly. On the other side of the door is a tall, slim man in a perfect black suit, the earpiece in his ear and his overall appearance marking him out as a likely member of SM’s security team. Next to him is the receptionist, a nervous look on her features.

Nayeon questions the man with a terse tone, as though she were annoyed at his interruption. The man answers politely but firmly, seemingly asking for confirmation of Nayeon’s identity.

Nayeon lets her confidence and body language speak for her, answering his questions with a haughty and arrogant tone to her voice, as though she couldn’t believe the man had the gall to bother her while she was waiting for her non-existent appointment with Irene.

Nayeon lets out a scoff, as though she couldn’t believe what was happening. Finally she invites him into Irene’s office with a disgusted wave of her hand. When he steps inside, she slams the door behind him - but not before shooting the receptionist a sharp look.

“Nayeon says the security guard can wait in the office with her if the receptionist is so worried,” Jihyo translates.

The two converse in Korean. Nayeon slumps into Irene’s desk chair as if she owned it, crossing her legs and idly browsing through something on her phone. The man sits in one of the chairs opposite her, likely surprised by the sheer gall and arrogance on display by the stranger in front of him who was sitting in his boss’ chair.

“She’s hitting on him,” Jihyo says with a smirk, “she says that the receptionist was annoying but at least he’s cute. She’s asking him if there are any good places nearby to get a drink.”

The security guard seemed surprised at Nayeon’s sudden change in tone, but he seemed willing to indulge her at least. It sounded like he was suggesting a few places nearby. Whatever Nayeon was saying to him, it sounded like his tough exterior was beginning to crack.

From her interrogation of Jay you knew Nayeon was not above using her body to get what she wanted - and while you knew it was for the good of the mission (not to mention her own safety), you still found yourself hesitant at what you were about to witness.

Nayeon rises from her chair and walks around to the front of the desk, each step accompanied with an exaggerated swing of her hips. She leans against the front of the desk, crossing her legs in front of her. The guard seemed a little tense at her new proximity, shifting nervously in his seat as Nayeon continues to make small talk with him, her tone slowly becoming more and more flirtatious.

He finds enough courage to say what appears to be a joke, if Nayeon’s reaction is anything to go by.

She lets out a short giggle - the kind of giggle a girl gives when she is not truly amused but rather wants to appear as cute as possible. You don’t understand what she says next, but you imagine she is telling him how funny he is.

“She says she’s bored of waiting,” Jihyo translates, “and that there must be something they could do to pass the time.”

You fidget in your chair in the cramped van, uncomfortable at having to bear witness for the second time in a week as your ex-girlfriend seduces a man. At least this time there was more than just a pane of one-way glass separating you, not that it lessened the discomfort.

Nayeon bends over until she is just inches away from the guard’s face - and you could tell he was trying awfully hard not to take a glimpse down the tantalizing cleavage of her low cut blouse.

She taps his nose with a finger - which would have been cute, if she didn’t immediately follow it up by tracing her finger along his admittedly sharp jawline. Her finger falls slowly down to the red, perfectly knotted tie at his throat, and with her long, delicate fingers she undoes the knot and pulls on the red silk until it is completely off.

She stands, playing seductively with the red silk, until she is standing behind him. You don’t understand the content of the lustful sounding words coming from her mouth, but you do understand her tone. She bends to whisper something in his ear as she wraps the tie around his mouth and knots it behind his head, the red silk filling his mouth and keeping him from speaking. She continues to speak seductively into his ear, and as her fingers fall down the front of his chest to slowly undo the buttons of his white shirt, you brace yourself for what was about to transpire-

-until Nayeon abruptly whacks the guard over the head with what appeared to be a heavy steel stapler.

You didn’t even know when she picked it up from Irene’s desk, nor where she hid it while she seduced the guard - all you knew was that said guard was now on the floor unconscious, and Nayeon was rushing back to the laptop to retrieve the USB and its now-completed download of Irene’s data. She snatches the YG folder from the desk and quickly makes towards the exit.

“Command, Blue 1. Leaving.”

“Acknowledged, Blue 1,” Jihyo answers, a small, impressed smile on her lips.

Nayeon slips out of the office and finds the waiting room empty - dismissing the absence of the receptionist, she quickly heads towards the hallway door that will lead her to the outside of the building.

In the hallway to greet her are half a dozen more guards.

In that moment time freezes; there is a look of utter shock on the guards’ faces when Nayeon appears, and it seems to take forever for the foremost amongst them to acknowledge Nayeon’s presence by raising his hand and shouting something in Korean. It is just enough time for Nayeon to make a decision - the one to run.

She dashes as quickly as she can down the hallway, the six guards in close pursuit. She reaches the door first and bursts into the alleyway.

“Command, Blue 1! Request for hot extract!”

“Blue 1, acknowledged!” Jihyo answers quickly, already scrambling towards the front of the van and the drivers’ seat. She starts the engine and before you can get a hold of anything the van is already moving, throwing you off your seat and to the floor of the vehicle. Jeongyeon is just as surprised as you, and the sudden jolt of movement causes her to lose her balance and fall quite literally into your arms. Your arms wrap themselves around her as Jihyo pushes the van out into the busy street.

You barely have time to get upright before the van screeches to a halt a few seconds later, sending both Jeongyeon and yourself tumbling forward uncontrollably. You land roughly on top of her, and you immediately give her a look of concern, but she is a tough one, and a shake of her head dismisses your worry.

“Fuck, we’re stuck!” Jihyo snaps. You raise your head enough to peer through the front window to find a large dump truck has begun to back up into an adjacent construction site, stopping traffic from both sides from progressing.

“Can’t back up!” Jeongyeon shouts as she looks out the rear window. It was rush hour in Seoul and cars were already packed behind the van.

“Shit,” you hiss. You look up at the monitor where Nayeon is still running away from the guards, the video feed bouncing and rattling with the pace of her run. From the way she was running she was still clearly being chased.

“Blue 1, this is Command,” you say quickly into the microphone, “make for the shopping mall across the street. We can lose them in the crowd. I’ll meet you there!”

“Okay!” Nayeon manages to answer.

“I’m gonna go grab her. Jihyo, once this clears up pick us up from the mall!” You shout as you open up the rear doors of the van and scramble out, wanting to do something, anything, to save Nayeon from her pursuers.

—-

The mall is crowded, as you expected, but it at least gave you a chance to lose the SM guards in the rush of after-work shoppers - or so you hoped. It doesn’t take you long to find Nayeon - there is a loud commotion at one of the entrances, and before you know it Nayeon is there, running towards you, half a dozen suited men in close pursuit.

“Run!” She shouts, and before you know it the two of you are running, ducking and weaving around the busy crowd of startled shoppers. The crowd shouts and yelps in alarm as you ran as fast as you could, unable to avoid the occasional unintentional bump of a started onlooker.

The guards are close behind - you needed to do something to throw them off. Taking Nayeon by the wrist, you duck into a hallway apart from the main shopping area that contained the mall’s washrooms and admin areas - and it appears you’re successful, as you risk a glance behind you and deduct from the retreating source of the commotion that the guards are heading in the wrong direction.

You and Nayeon breathe a sigh of relief, happy that you’d lost the guards for now. Satisfied that your pursuers have been sufficiently thrown off, you head back into the main shopping area-

-only to quite literally run into a guard; the same one Nayeon had knocked out in Irene’s office.

It takes the both of you a split second to recognize each other, but when the guard finally recovers enough from the shock to realize who you and the woman behind you were, a look of anger quickly appears on his face.

He raises his hand to his mouth, presumably to report to the radio microphone in his jacket cuff. He begins to speak-

-only to be punched in the mouth and knocked out cold for the second time in the last half hour.

Yoo Jeongyeon is there, suddenly, shaking her fist as she stands over the guard’s fallen form, a grimace on her face.

“Fuck, they never tell you how much it hurts to punch someone,” she hisses.

Nayeon and you take a moment to register what just happened, until a loud shout from the other side of the mall snaps the three of you back into the moment. A split second later you watch as the six SM guards, realizing they’d been heading in the wrong direction, begin to head back towards you. Evidently the knocked out guard got enough across to tell them where you were before Jeongyeon laid him out.

“Shit!” Jeongyeon snaps, before the three of you quickly dart back into the hallway. The sound of the heavy shoes stomping after you, and the shouts of alarm and anger from members of the crowd as they are pushed aside, tells you the guards are in close pursuit.

Nayeon, leading the way, heads towards the end of the hallway, where a red emergency door seemingly leads to the outside of the mall. It might have been locked, it might have led to a dead end, but at the moment it was your only option.

Nayeon barges into the door with her shoulder, which thankfully gives way and reveals an alleyway. You are only a few seconds ahead of your pursuers, but when you step across the door you immediately turn and brace yourself against it, holding it shut as best you could. Jeongyeon notices what you’re doing and she too braces herself against it.

“Run, Nayeon!” You shout, and you watch as Nayeon stands momentarily frozen, debating whether or not she should do as you say. The second passes, and Nayeon quickly turns to begin to run away - but she only runs to a nearby pile of trash, where she retrieves a heavy looking bin. Jeongyeon scrambles to help her pick it up, and together the three of you push it up against the door.

And you do so just in time, as the door bursts almost halfway open when the guards on the other side throw themselves against it. The bin is heavy and helps the three of you keep the door shut, but you knew it was only a matter of time before the men on the other side eventually overpowered you and forced their way out.

“Fuck, Nayeon, just get out of here. Get the data to Jihyo,” you snap as you push as heavily as you could against the bin and the door. The guards on the other side are shouting as they try to pry the door open, all of them appearing to throw their weight behind it.

You make eye contact with Nayeon, and in her eyes you see her inner conflict - she didn’t want to leave you there, didn’t want to leave you to be captured by SM, not when she knew what they were capable of and what had happened to others that had crossed Irene. But the information in the file and on her USB drive were vital, and someone had to get it out there…

For a split second Nayeon’s eyes quiver, as though she were afraid of having to live with her decision - but then before you know it she is gone, dashing away, running as fast as her legs could carry her. You watch as she turns the corner and disappears out into the busy street.

You know that she was just doing what you had ordered her to do - what made the most sense in that situation. The information in the folder, and the USB drive, might have been enough to finally bring Irene to justice. Someone had to get it out into the public. Nonetheless, it hurt you to see her run and leave you to deal with the SM guards, even when you knew it was the most logical course of action.

Next to you, Jeongyeon is struggling to push back against the door, a look of hard effort on her face as she leans as hard as she could against the cold steel and the heavy bin. She could have run right along with Nayeon, but instead she decided to stay.

“You didn’t have to come for us,” you manage to say.

“I didn’t come for her,” she answers, “I came for you.”

You reach over and clutch her hand, covering it with yours. You smile at her, a sad smile; you were both about to be captured by dangerous people with ill intentions, and while you would have been happier knowing she was far away and safe, a small part of you was still happy she was there, with you, when she could have easily stayed in the van with Jihyo.

Jeongyeon smiles back at you.

The door bursts open and the guards spill out into the alleyway, the force of their exit knocking you and Jeongyeon to the ground. You quickly crawl over to Jeongyeon and help her to her feet, the six guards quickly rising themselves as they finally confront you.

You clench your fists and step between them and Jeongyeon, unwilling to go down without a fight and wanting to protect her for as long as you could. You are surprised to find that Jeongyeon has stepped out from behind you to stand side by side, a look of determination on her face as she glares angrily as the SM guards as though taunting them into attacking her. A small stream of blood is falling down her cheek from a gash she must have received as she fell.

In her hands is a length of scrap wood that she must have picked up off the ground, clutched in front of her like a sword.

The SM guards tense, ready for the confrontation that was about to come. The first of them inches forward, and reaches into his suit to draw a collapsible steel baton. You breathe and ready yourself as best you could for what was to come.

There is a loud screech that could only be that of burning rubber, and everyone in the alley freezes to watch as a van pulls up on the entrance of the alleyway, directly behind you and Jeongyeon. You immediately think it is Jihyo, but this van is white, not black. The side door flies open. Time freezes in that moment, and you manage to make out every single detail of what awaited you inside the van.

In the van are three women. One was unfamiliar to you. The second you recognize as the fit stewardess on the flight to Seoul from Hawaii last week - the one that had taken a keen interest in you and Jeongyeon.

The third woman was one you knew well. She is beautiful, as she always was, even if this time her face is heavy with intensity. Her eyes, those large, expressive eyes of hers, are wide open with alarm and determination. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized how much you’d missed her, how much you’d longed to see her again.

But there is something about her that looks a little different, a little out of place. It takes you another split second to realize why she looked so different - her hair, usually in bangs, was now swept off to the side. And while the fact that she was now your rescuer added to the fact, you were convinced that she had never looked more beautiful.

“Get in!” Hirai Momo shouts, her hand extended towards you.

You immediately rush Jeongyeon into the van before taking Momo’s hand and letting her pull you into the vehicle. The stewardess shuts the sliding door behind you just as the guards reach the van and try in vain to open the locked door.

“Floor it, Chaeyoung!” Momo shouts. The driver, a young looking girl with a short haircut, shifts the van into gear.

“Hold on!”

With the sound of screeching tires, the van speeds away from the alleyway, whisking you to safety.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic

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