#and with that concludes run number two

[columboscreens]

columbo - columbo likes the nightlife

[currrsy]

THE OTHER SIDE

This post is about my OC's and the story about them! I have two settings, and this one is about "The Other Side", a horror drama about Floyd Bennett. CHARACTERS:

PLOT: In 2005, the main character, Floyd Bennett, a horror writer, moves to a quiet town called name and settles into a new big house. In the past, Floyd experienced a tragedy — he lost his wife and daughter in a fire. After several years, Bennett decides to start a new life by moving to a different place and fully immersing himself in writing.

After moving, Floyd explores the town and meets the local sheriff's assistant, David Sanders, at a store. David gives him his phone number in case Floyd needs help.

A few days later, Floyd begins to feel worse living in the new house: his migraines worsen, he often has nosebleeds, and he hears various sounds, as if someone is walking around the house, etc.

One day, he encounters a woman named Samantha near the yard, who tries to warn Floyd to leave the house. Bennett doesn’t listen to her, and Samantha leaves, saying that he is making a big mistake. Over time, Floyd's health deteriorates significantly. In the bathroom mirror, he notices the silhouette of a man with a slit throat.

Floyd perceives this as a hallucination and decides to just go to sleep. He dreams of a nightmare in which he gets a hand injury. Waking up in the middle of the night, he discovers that the injury is real. He decides to call David in the middle of the night to check the house. Upon arrival, David listens to everything that has happened to Floyd. He concludes that the writer's imagination has simply run wild and that he needs to rest. As David prepares to leave, he finds he cannot open the front door. Other doors are also locked, and the lights in the house stop working. Something does not want to let them out. Eventually, they encounter the man Floyd saw in the mirror; a long-haired man with a slit throat is approaching them. The walls of the house bleed, and objects shake and fall. In an instant, everything stops, and complete darkness descends.

When they come to, the men notice that the house has changed significantly: there are more rooms, the corridors have deformed and elongated. In simple terms, everything looks like a nightmare. They cannot find a way out, so they are left to explore the strange place (the other side) in hopes of finding another exit.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

special report | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

scenario: ever wonder how the VIPs watch the games before they arrive on the island? reporter!reader delivers the highlights of each game to viewers around the world. and a certain someone is their biggest fan.  setting: in seoul between the second game (dalgona) and the special game during season 1 warnings: reader can be any gender, but this was originally written with fem!reader in mind; reader also works for the games; they're both just not nice people lol (but we love them anyways!); no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 629 notes: someone in a reddit thread had a theory that the VIPs would watch highlight reels of the first few games and this story popped in my head. salesman is called recruiter here since that's his official title. i love this guy sm (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“And that concludes our coverage for Day 2 of the Games. Please stay tuned for the Special Game, which will take place in two hours.”

You bowed to the camera, only straightening your back upon hearing the director yell “Cut!”. You shuffled the papers on the desk in front of you, then checked your phone. 

Three missed calls. 

You snorted, a small smile forming on your lips. You pressed on one of the missed calls, the number redialing on your screen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the recruiter to pick up. It didn’t even ring once before his smooth voice came through the speaker.

“Finally.”

You sighed, leaning forward to prop an elbow on the desk. “You know I’m at work. You of all people should know that.”

You could picture his cocky smirk.

“Care for a bite to eat? My treat,” he offered, which you accepted. There was still an hour and a half before you had to return to prepare for the Special Game.

You met at the tiny kimbap shop down the street. While you both could afford a fancier restaurant, a cheap, filling meal was all you needed right now.

“So,” you started, pouring hot barley tea into your teacups, “Did you catch any of the last game?” 

He nodded, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. “Very entertaining, as always. You never cease to impress me,” he praised.

Taking a big sip of tea, you scoffed, “Oh please. I’m the least interesting part of the show.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head. “Why is that?”

Shooting him an unimpressed look, you spoke, “Did you not see the same footage I did? The utter fear when they had to carve out the dalgona?” You laughed, “And when that guy got shot and slid down the slide… You just can’t make this stuff up!"

Pouring some more tea into your cup, you continued, "Seriously though, watching those players carve out the umbrella shapes was priceless. They were so scared!” With a shake of your head, you sighed, “I can’t believe some of them actually passed.” 

The recruiter chuckled, leaning closer to you. “While that was amusing, I found your performance to be far more enticing.”  

A blush crossed your cheeks, but you quickly shook it off, clearing your throat.

“I try my best. By the way,” you motioned towards him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the players this time. A perfect mix of competent and woefully tragic players. I’m not sure which I like more.” You shot him a smile, which he returned.

“Oh, and the group with the Host? Hilarious,” you grinned. “I can’t believe that 218 and 456 were childhood friends.” You tapped your fingers against your teacup. “But I guess, at the end of the day, trash is still trash.”

The lady running the shop arrived with your food, and the two of you ate in comfortable silence. However, you couldn’t help but notice the recruiter’s intense gaze lingering on you.

Once the recruiter paid, the two of you left the restaurant, and he walked you back to the office. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked, briefcase in hand.

You hummed, “Tomorrow is Tug of War, and there’s still lots to prepare before the final games.” You took a step towards him, a teasing smile on your face, “Why, miss me already?”

He huffed, “I can watch you any time.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he whispered, “But I prefer being near you instead.”

You tilted his head to look at you and kissed him on the cheek. Turning to enter your office, you looked back and called to him.

“Until next time, my dear recruiter!”

He flashed his signature smirk.

“Take care, my lovely reporter.”

[calumcxke]

CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE

yang jungwon x fem!reader

SUMMARY: your rich boyfriend- who you never thought you would have a chance with- loves to spoil you. even with the smallest things.

WARNINGS: none just really fluffy and they’re both down bad for each other

wc: 1.9k

notes! this is mainly based on a dream i had about ricky from zb1 LMAOO so sorry if it’s a bit unrealistic and tooth-rottingly fluffy, this was also RUSHED, i know i usually write about txt but i’ve been on such an enhypen kick lately and i loveeeee jungwon

yang jungwon was rich. if that was even the right word for it.

with a prestigious father- who was rumored to be one of the reasons he got into snu- his whole family was loaded.

he walked around campus like he owned it. realistically speaking, he could probably buy it if he wanted to. everyone knew him. and his friend group. jungwon, jake, and heeseung were some of the most well known people at school.

you, on the other hand, were not. it’s not like no one knew you. you were known, just not popular. not like jungwon. you had friends, aka sunoo, soobin, and karina.

which is why it was a bit weird when jungwon had taken a liking to you. it wasn’t anything special at first. just small smiles exchanged in passing, but it was still enough to have you running off and telling your friends what had happened. they, of course, told you to make a move. you refused. that’s too scary. making a move on the most popular- and the hottest- guy in school? you would rather crawl into a hole.

you didn’t have to worry too much about making the first move, though. a few days later jungwon caught you at the end of class, falling in step next to you as he asked for your number.

you almost disintegrated into a puddle on the spot, masking your shock as you sputtered out a yes, putting your contact into his phone. you tried to ignore how soft his voice was, or how intense his eye contact was, or the way he smiled at you, or how cute his dimples were, or- you were down bad.

when you told your friends, they nearly lost their minds. karina was jumping around you, before sunoo concluded this called for a night out. you still think he just wanted an excuse to eat out. but alas, you spent the whole night making a plan. or, they spent the whole night making a plan while you sat there daydreaming about the dimple-y, cat-eyed boy who you had spoken to earlier that day.

it started out as just exchanging texts back and forth. you tried not to be awkward, but you always were with new people. plus, you were talking to yang jungwon. if things got awkward, you brought up school. lame, but it was the only thing you knew you had in common with him.

you don’t remember when, but the texts turned into calls, then late night facetimes. looking forward to calling him at night, checking your phone constantly with every notification. smiling when you saw his name pop up on your phone. then he asked to hang out.

in person.

you felt like a part of you glitched when he asked, his smile lighting up your phone screen in the dark. you said yes, obviously. what you didn’t expect was for jungwon to say he was on his way, asking you to meet him outside the library in ten minutes. you still said you would be there, immediately calling karina once you hung up, screaming to her about what was about to happen. she calmed you down, but she was just as excited as you.

you cleaned up as best as you could without looking like you were trying too hard, listening to karina’s advice on how to act before you were rushing out the door, shaking from the cold air whipping against you and your nerves.

the night was fun. you two spent it walking around, giggling with each other about stores you could think of. you learned even more about him. he went on a rant about how good aladdin was while you stared at him with an endeared look. the night ended with you two hand in hand, your fingers intertwined and arms swinging as he walked you back to your dorm.

you two stood outside your door awkwardly, you shifting your weight from foot to foot before telling him goodnight. with a surge of braveness, you were on your tippy toes and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you watched the surprised look on his face that he replaced with a smile soon after, his cheeks turning a pretty pink.

you turned around to go back into your apartment before a hand on your wrist stopped you. you didn’t have time to process what was happening until you were being turned around and his lips were on yours. he pulled away with a shy smile on his mouth, his dimples poking through as he backed away, whispering a goodnight before he was walking off. you stood in a daze, unsure of how this was reality. you finally stuttered out a goodnight, entering your dorm calmly before you were jumping up and down with silent screams, immediately calling sunoo, soobin, and karina. safe to say they had to listen to you rant for about two hours.

that’s basically how it all started. to this day, two months in, there was only a handful of people who knew. jake and heeseung knew, along with your friends. your friend groups had meshed slightly, although you didn’t hang out much at school. at night and off campus were when you would all get together. you and jungwon in your own world, while everyone else conversed with each other.

right now, you were walking along the sidewalk, soobin, sunoo, and karina in front of you while you and jungwon trailed behind, fingers intertwined as you walked to your favorite shake shop. you had been looking forward to it since you woke up, imagining the cold chocolate shake invading your tastebuds throughout every lecture.

“what’re you gonna get?” you asked, turning your head to face jungwon, his eyes meeting yours as he thought.

“whatever you get,” he replied with a smile, his dimples poking through.

“don’t get what i get, get what you want,” you giggled, rolling your eyes at him playfully.

“i like chocolate shakes,” he spoke, your eyes widening slightly at his sentence.

“you remember my order?” you asked, your lips hanging open as you stared at him.

he laughed, turning his head away from you to face forward again, “it’s not like you haven’t been talking about it all day.”

oh. that’s right. you laughed awkwardly, mumbling out a ‘sorry’ as you looked forward again. he gave your hand a squeeze, laughing along with you. a comfortable silence fell upon you two, listening to your friends converse in front of you. there was no need to keep talking to fill the silence. just being around each other was enough.

your eyes lit up as your favorite shake place came into view, the light brown and orange shack standing on its own off of the sidewalk, four little steps leading up to the window where you placed your order. you smiled brightly, subconsciously picking up your steps as you dragged jungwon along behind you. sunoo laughed at the two of you, pointing you out to soobin and karina, who could only roll their eyes with smiles on their faces.

you skipped up the steps to the entrance, turning around to see your friends right behind you. you sent them a toothy smile, pulling out your wallet, “i’ll cover us today!”

you tried to ignore the smile jungwon sent you, or the heat that rose to your cheeks as you spun back around to greet the girl behind the counter, smiling brightly at her, “hi! can i get one- sorry, two chocolate shakes,” you paused as she put the drinks in, looking back up at you, “and then just whatever they want.”

you gestured to your friends behind you, stepping out of the way so they could place their orders. you bounced slightly on your heels, biting your bottom lip as you gave jungwon a cheeky smile, too excited for your shake to function properly. was it embarrassing to get this excited over a chocolate shake? probably. you didn’t care.

when everyone finished ordering, you stepped back up to the counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag and reaching for your card. you looked back up just in time to see jungwon leaning against the counter, sending you a cocky smile as he placed his card on the card reader, before turning his head to smile at the girl, taking the receipt from her.

your jaw dropped, a pout forming on your lips as you looked up at him, “i was gonna pay for it.”

he huffed out a laugh, squeezing one of your cheeks before shoving his card back in his wallet, heading to lean against the wall by your other friends, “it’s no big deal.”

you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to creep on your lips, you steps quickly catching up to him as you stood in front of him, “you didn’t have to do that.”

truthfully, you knew it was nothing to him. $40 was practically like a penny to him, it wouldn’t affect him in any way. when he said it wasn’t a big deal, it truly wasn’t. you still couldn’t help yourself from feeling bad when he bought stuff for you, though. you didn’t want to seem like the girlfriend that leeches off of her rich boyfriend.

“baby,” he started, a smile on his lips as he reached for your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles as he continued, “i would buy you anything. no matter how many zeros are at the end.”

you didn’t know what to say back. your mouth opened and closed, his words effectively shutting you up as your cheeks turned a bright red. you didn’t expect those words to leave his mouth.

smirking at your flustered reaction, he continued, leaning closer to your face as he whispered, “whether it be two zeros,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, moving over to the other one, “three zeros”. another kiss.

he pulled back slightly, a soft smile on his lips as one hand left yours to grab your chin, tilting your head up to meet his, “six zeros.” he pressed his lips against yours, a soft, lingering kiss that had you reeling, his words making your mind spin.

when he pulled away, you couldn’t help the words that spilled from your mouth, “you would spend a million dollars on me?”

he simply laughed, pulling the hand he was still holding so your chest collided with his, wrapping his arms around you, “i would spend all my money on you.”

you smiled, snuggling your head into his chest as you whined, your cheeks burning, “don’t say stuff like that,” you mumbled out, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“why?” he asked simply, and you felt him shrug as he rested his head on top of yours before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the truth.”

and suddenly, the chocolate shake didn’t seem as important, nor did anything else around you. just spending this moment with jungwon, wrapped in his arms, practically surrounded by him, simply being there with him- was all that was on your mind.

all you knew was that he was as down bad for you as you were for him, and that somehow made you fall more in love with him, tilting your head up slightly to press a soft kiss against his neck before mumbling, “you have to let me buy you dinner tonight, though.”

he snorted out a laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “yeah, right.”

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (2)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (1)

How to cure a grump masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky to his friends, prides himself on not being a petty man. He believes in second chances. So, when storms toward his private jet, he tries not to be too angry.

One day before Christmas he must fly across the country to find a missing employee. Or rather, ex-employee.

Bucky grits his teeth, barely acknowledging the petite blonde welcoming him with a French accent. He always had a thing for French women or women in general.

Today, he doesn’t care, too angry at you for spending Christmas with your parents and not waiting for his call.

“That woman! The audacity! How dare she block my number!” He’s fuming. If this was a cartoon, steam would come out of his ears.

Bucky barks orders at the pilot and the stewardess before sitting down. He hates Christmas and everything that comes with it. From the cheery attitude to exchanging gifts. James Buchanan Barnes is the Grinch in flesh and blood.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bucky loses his temper for a second, or like, ever. He glares at the poor girl telling him there’s only one left at the car rental. “I wanted an SUV, not a fucking truck.”

“Sir,” the girl sniffles, “I reserved the best car for you. It’s the Christmas season, and it's difficult to even rent out a car. We are booked out for months.”

“I don’t care! Is that how you do business?”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice,” the owner of the car rental steps in. “We did our utmost to find another car for you. It’s the only one left. Take it or leave it. If you want to walk, it’s fine by me.”

Bucky grits his teeth. He’d love to go at the man like a missile but doesn’t have the time. If he wants to find your house, get the password, and leave within two hours to fly back to New York, he must swallow his pride and accept one defeat for today.

“Fine,” he growls at the man. “I’ll take that one.”

Bucky is beyond pissed. No one in your sleepy little hometown wants to tell him where you are living, or rather your parents. On top of all, his feet are hurting from running around town for hours.

He cracks his neck before entering the bakery, his last hope.

Bucky opens the door, forcing it to swing open. The little bell above the door rings, catching the other customers' attention. Your former boss, in his expensive slacks, coat, and slippers, sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Good day, Sir,” the owner chirps. She’s a short woman in her early fifties, wearing a brown mini dress shaped like a gingerbread man cookie, with icing details and colorful candy accents. It has a slightly flared skirt and appears to have a tulle underskirt. “What can I do for you?” We have a special offer for Christmas-themed cupcakes and muffins. Or do you prefer classic gingerbread cookies?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Bucky cuts her off. “Y/N Y/L/N. I think she’s at her parents’ house.”

“OH! OH! You must be the handsome fiancé she was hiding for so long!” The owner rounds the corner to wrap Bucky in a hug. He stiffens, not used to unwanted affection from strangers. “But… didn’t you come with her?”

“I—I,” Bucky stammers. If he tells the owner the truth, she’ll not tell him where your parents are living. “Work kept me busy last minute.”

“—and now you came here to surprise her,” she concludes, and Bucky doesn’t correct her. What else can he do? “Wait, I’ll write her address down. And, oh, you must take some of the cupcakes and cookies with you. They are on the house.”

All the women in the bakery sigh. They believe the handsome man in his expensive clothes came to surprise you on Christmas.

Well, in a way, he will surprise you.

“Mom, I’ll go and pick up the things you ordered. Do you need anything else?” You call for your mother, already halfway out of the house. “Mom?”

“Can you bring some cupcakes and cookies from Aunt Y/A/N’s bakery? Bread too. We don’t need to bake it this year. She offered to bake mine at the bakery!”

“Sure thing, Mom. Anything else? We don’t want to forget something, especially with the approaching snowstorm.”

“No, I got everything else, Munchkin. We will survive for at least three weeks or more with all the things in the pantry. You can stay for months if you want to.”

“Mom,” you sigh. Since you told her about your boss and that you lost your job, she offered you half of the house. She already talked to people in town. Within not three hours, you got four job offers. “We can talk about it after the holidays.”

“That’s not a no,” she coos. “You know, I’d love to have my Munchkin back at home.”

You smile because your mom means well and loves you unconditionally, but you know moving back home is not an option. After the holidays, you will attend a few job interviews. You already had a look at a few free positions and applied to them.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom. Call me if you need something else.”

“Coming,” your mom coos as someone impatiently rings the doorbell. She carries a plate with cookies toward the door, assuming it’s one of the neighbor’s kids. “What can I do for you?”

She opens the door, meeting stormy blue eyes. Bucky looks her up and down, humming as she’s the spitting image of you. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he clears his throat, “I’m looking for your daughter, Y/N. I know it’s a busy time, but I need to talk to her.”

“Wait—” Your mother sizes Bucky up while trying to remember the picture you sent her some months back. The one of you and the guy you dated for a few months before he broke things up with you. “You must be…” She struggles to remember the name you gave her too.

“James,” Bucky offers, and holds out his hand. He chuckles as your mother is still holding a plate with cookies in her hands. “Sorry, can I help you with that?”

“Where are my manners!” She gasps. “It’s freezing, and you are standing on my front porch. Come in and get warm. Y/N is picking up some groceries for me. She’ll be back soon. Do you want coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”

Bucky reluctantly enters your mother’s house. He looks around before taking off his coat. His hands are ice cold thanks to the lack of hand gloves, and he cannot deny that he doesn’t feel his feet any longer.

“Yeah, the weather caught me cold,” Bucky and your mother chuckle at his bad wordplay. He takes off his shoes to wiggle his toes. “I didn’t expect the snow to be so…persistent.”

“We get lots of snow at this time of the year,” your mother says while preparing a hot beverage for Bucky. “Do you want some cookies too, or a sandwich maybe?”

“That’s too kind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t want to risk getting kicked out of your mother’s house. He’ll be waiting patiently for you to return, get the password, and be on his way.

You hurriedly get inside the house. The snowstorm already arrived, and you barely made it back to the house. “Mom, I’m back,” you call for your mother. “I guess we won’t be able to get in town anytime soon.”

“Munchkin,” your mother calls from the living room. “We have company. Can you come here?”

You frown. The last thing you need after fighting your way through snow masses is neighbors wanting to catch up with you. You love them, but explaining that you lost your job is something you don’t want to do again and again.

“Coming,” you take off your boots, coat, scarf, and hand gloves before walking into the living room. You suck in a breath watching your former boss get comfortable on your mother’s couch, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

“Look! He came to see you for Christmas.” Your mother gets up to give you and your “boyfriend” time. She still doesn’t know he’s your boss, or now ex-boss, not the guy breaking up with you weeks ago. “You can catch up while I take care of the groceries you got.”

Speechless, you watch your mother leave the room. “What are you doing here?” You spat at your former boss the moment your mother was out of sight. “How dare you come here to bug my mother!”

“She invited me in,” he dares to say. Bucky shrugs as you look at him, murder in your eyes. “I think she confused me with some other guy. She mentioned a boyfriend or fiancé.”

Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “Not even close,” you snap at him. “I was seeing someone, but my mom knows that it didn’t work out. What did you tell her? Did you lie to her?”

“Whoa, calm down,” he slowly gets up. “I’m here because you forgot to reset the password. I cannot access the files.”

“What?” You cock a brow. “I left my current password and the PIN to reset the password along with my keys. I gave them to the security, as suggested by Mr. Rogers the day I left.”

“Mr. Rogers—” Bucky huffs. “That punk! That goddamn motherfucker let me fly down here to get the password and knew you left it?”

“Problem solved,” you grunt and point toward the door. “If you’d leave me the fuck alone now. It’s almost Christmas, and the last thing I need is for my mom to believe you are the guy I dated!”

“Munchkin, will your boyfriend stay for Christmas? Do you want the guestroom to have more privacy?” You love your mother dearly, but right now, you’d love to tell her to shut up. “Y/N?”

“No!” You say. “He will fly back and spend Christmas in New York.”

“Oh, Munchkin, I don’t think he can,” your mother says while walking back inside the living room. She shows you her phone. “See, all airports are closed, and the streets are, well, you know the streets in winter. “I think James is stuck here.” She smiles softly while you start to sweat.

“I think he’d prefer a hotel!” You are quick to reply. “Right, James.” You clear your throat and furrow your brows. “You want to sleep at a hotel.”

“Nonsense,” your mother insists. “We have more than enough space. Let’s get his luggage inside before it gets even colder. I’m sure he’s tired and needs a rest.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll go to a hotel,” Bucky jumps in, wanting nothing more than to get out of your mother’s house.

“All hotels are booked up. I talked to Mrs. Brock yesterday. There are no free rooms left. Your boyfriend can sleep here,” your mother chuckles. “I know you are all grown, Munchkin.” She kisses your cheek before leaving the room.

Awkward silence spreads through the room. You look at your boss, the man ruining Christmas and your career for you within a few seconds. “Why didn’t you tell her?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” You throw your hands up. Dropping another bomb at your mom is the last thing you want. Maybe she forgot that you told her about the breakup some weeks ago.

“Uh—you know, I wanted the password and feared she’d kick me out getting to know I’m your boss.”

“Ex-boss,” you point out. Putting your hands on your hips, you huff. “Okay, we will survive one night. You’ll sleep in the guestroom, and tomorrow morning we will find a way to get you out of my hometown.”

“Good,” Bucky mutters.

“Good,” you snap at him before storming out of the room.

How to cure a grump (3)

More tags in reblog.

@cjand10, @nofingjustaninchident, @pettyjayy

[archives-of-a-hidden-writer]

Saved

Thanos / Choi Su-Bong X M/GN!Reader

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》 Location of Entry: Archivial's |

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》 Summary: Instead of dying to a damn utensil, you were there to save his ass just when things were about to take a turn for the worse on his behalf. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 6 SEASON 2, Swearing(On the archiver's behalf), Archiver(writer) speaks in between scenes through parentheses, OOC, Blood, Violence, murder/killing, Change of Storyline, Aversion of Story, Mention of Drug Use, MxM but can also be seen as MxGN it's just that reader can go to the men's bathroom, Reader's choice in the voting is unspecified but leans more in the 'X'. |

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As the 3rd game came to a close, all 100 remaining players came into a voting of 50 by 50, making it a tie. It was then told how another voting were to occur the next day, giving the players time to choose their options once more.

As things died down between groups, you were peacefully doing your own thing in the restroom until you suddenly heard a commotion outside the stalls, followed by another voice that you recognized all the while ago.

During your time throughout the 3 games, one particular man stood out, Su-bong, aka the rapper Thanos. Although you've heard of the man before the games, you weren't particularly a fan of him to the point you would clutter him like the others during the start of the 1st game. Despite that, you couldn't help but feel something towards the chaotic and high man.

Going outside your stall, you were greeted to the men split into two groups, one siding the ones who chose 'O' last voting and the other group being the ones who chose 'X'. One of the players in the 'X' went in front of the scared man who was you concluded as the man Thanos was after. Yet it seemed to worsen the situation as the player, numbered 333, was the infamous MG coin, the same man who 'milked'(Archiver doesn't know if this is the right word, but I'm rolling with it) his fans of their money for a crypto coin.

Soon, a fight broke loose within the restroom, and none of the guards came in to stop them. The guy originally Thanos was after had already run off, while Thanos was currently choking player 333.

Not knowing what to do or which side to go or help, you ended up knocking and punching a few who tried swinging their fists at you. You just decided to help the person, to you, you knew the most, and that is Thanos.

As Thanos choked out player 333(Myung-gi, but screw it, he'll become irrelevant in this entry anyways), you noticed the player holding something in his hand. You soon noticed it as a fork, 'Shit,' you thought to yourself. Forks are sharp enough to pierce skin with the right pressure. You immediately screamed towards Thanos, tackling and pushing him off the man.

Thanos looked at you confused and irritated, "What the fuck, man?-" He cursed, you took a deep breath, trying to gauge your perspective at him, "He has a fo-" you were about to say until you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder blade. Turning around, you met the same player lodging the same damn fork in your shoulder. You groaned as he pulled the fork out, wanting to aim at another area in your body.

"Why are you helping him?!" The player screamed, about to plunge the fork again.

About to expect the worst, someone behind him pulled him back and started to punch him again and again. It was Thanos' friend, you presumed as you've recognised the man often beside the purple-haired.

Taking a deep breath, completely forgetting the pain in your shoulder for a moment before exhaling heavily. That's when you heard a voice admists the chaos.

"Hey, hey!" Thanos called out, not knowing what to do other than check the wound. "Tsk, dammit!" He cursed before roughly pulling you up and into one of the closest stalls to the two of you. Locking the stall behind him, he made you sit down on the toilet.

Trying to ignore the pain, you spoke out, "You should've ran out," I wheezed out, taking my jacket off before ripping a piece of my shirt to use as a bandage from the wound. Wrapping the cloth around your shoulder, you noticed that he's just standing right there, not doing anything with his head down at the floor. Not knowing what's on his mind, I continued to wrap the item around.

It was until you had to tie the cloth together to prevent it from coming loose, but with your shaking hands and inability to move area from your shoulder to your arm. Wincing, you still attempted until you felt another pair of hands grabbing over the cloth and tying it for you. You looked up to see Thanos tying the cloth for you, an uncharacteristically focused look on his face, but you couldn't help but gaze at him even further.

At this time, as Thanos finished tying the cloth secure, the fight outside the stall had quieted down. The purple-haired man peeked out to see four players dead, with the others being led out by the pink guards, followed by the announcer announcing the player number of each person who died.

Coming out along with the rest, Thanos kept behind me before muttering a 'Thanks, man', I nodded and continued walking until we reached the dormitory.

Thanos came back to his friend after such a situation, and you went into your original bed location until you heard someone scream your player number.

"Hey, ■■■!(You guys choose your number)" Thanos called out, waving his hand up as he looked over to you. He hopped and waved his hand, gesturing you to come over, and you not knowing what to do anymore, you decided and fuck it, join them.

As you approached them, Thanos hopped and swung his arm on you, but you quickly noticed how he was careful about his action and considering your wound.

"Welcome, my friend!" Thanos welcomed you to his friend, "This guy right here, they saved my damn life there!" He announced, shaking me lightly, "It was nothing... Really," you tried to start, averting away from them.

"What do you mean it's nothing?! My life was on the line, man!" Thanos replied, patting your chest as he spoke.

After that, the three of you waited for the next day to come by for the revoting of players. Coincidentally, you couldn't help but notice a shift in Thanos' attitude when he speaks to you alongside how his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher that isn't his typical high-on-drugs gaze.

As the announcer reminded everyone of the night's out in half an hour, everyone got to their respective beds with you being made to sleep near your now new friends('friends' yeah right).

As you slept on your accord, you didn't notice Thanos on his side, gazing at your sleeping figure. Somehow, a random stranger like you made him feel something other than the high feeling of his 'candies'. Quietly chuckling to himself, he laid back on his back.

Awaiting the next day, little did they know that other players had their own plans for the night rather than sleeping.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

》 Archiver's Notes: Do not mind this as your dear archiver, me, still can't seem to wrap their head around the fact that someone like his character died inside of a damn restroom with a fucking fork.

[slaybey]

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY, THE RENAISSANCE WORLD TOUR WAS BORN

The Renaissance World Tour was the ninth concert tour by American singer and songwriter Beyoncé. Her highest-grossing tour to date, it was staged in support of her seventh studio album, Renaissance (2022). The tour comprised 56 shows, beginning on May 10, 2023, in Stockholm, Sweden, and concluding on October 1, 2023, in Kansas City, Missouri. It was Beyoncé's first tour since the On the Run II Tour in 2018, and was her fourth all-stadium tour.

The concerts lasted between two and a half and three hours and were split into six or seven acts, with Beyoncé performing the tracks from Renaissance in order, interspersed with songs from across her discography. The stage consisted of a giant screen with a large "portal" in its center, and featured sculptures, robotic arms and ultraviolet technology.

According to official figures provided by Billboard Boxscore, the tour broke ticket sales records worldwide, becoming the seventh-highest-grossing concert tour of all time, the highest-grossing tour ever by a female artist, and the highest-grossing tour by a black artist. It also achieved the two highest monthly tour grosses in history and ranked at number one on the Top Tours Year End 2023 list. The shows received critical acclaim, with particular praise for the production value and Beyoncé's vocal performances. The tour boosted both local and national economies and was a sociocultural phenomenon. Renaissance: A Film by Beyoncé, which chronicles the creation and execution of the tour, was released in cinemas on December 1, 2023.

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, hers | Aaron Hotchner

MASTERLIST

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: A rainy night in a bar, an undercover task, coquetting with your boss — what else could you wish for? After days of trying to catch the murderer, and one stagnant investigation without any solid leads, the team ultimately uncovers how their unsub targets his victims. You could only think of one strategy: set up an ambush. An ambush that put you and your supervisor in an uncomfortable position, leading in the need to engage in flirtatious interactions.

warning: boss x subordinate, age gap, MUTUAL PINING, pre-established rship, mentions of alcohol, rape, killing.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

Aaron Hotchner was not a man who would allow himself to be distracted from a task, much less a man who enjoyed sitting and sipping beer in some smoky bar, flirting with women — even if it was just for show. His work always came first — that was why he agreed on this charade. He was devoted to work more than his own self, always his number one priority, and his now ex-wife could attest. So knowing that fact and knowing himself, there was absolutely nothing that could distract him from work. Or there ought not to be. So what had changed now?

In his line of work distractions were never good. They could be, what one would say, fatal.

Chilly droplets of dew trickled from the glass surface, down into his pocket where he tightly grasped the bottle, giving him the sensation that it was his own cold sweat running down his temples.

He might not have even noticed it was getting overly hot until the moment you sat down beside him. About to ask you for a drink, his what was supposed to be a flitting gaze paused on you and in that agonizing moment he watched as you took off your jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, leaving you in a red t-shirt and jeans that hugged you around your waist and hips.

The taste of his cold beverage was not enough to quench the fire in his throat.

What on earth was the matter with him!

He swallowed, his eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Irritated by the mere idea, with a frown on his face as dark as the weather outside, he looked back at the bottle he was holding. Why was he staring? Why was he even thinking about it? He needed to focus. You were embarking on a mission that held importance for the whole team. The case was put on hold due to a lack of information and leads for days, weeks. Until two days ago when you showed up in his office, with newspaper in your hands and sugary crystals glued to your lips — why did he remember that? — and finally provided him with the first solid lead in a long time. Concluding this case meant a sense of relief and a good night's rest for the team.

God, he didn't even notice or hear when the bartender approached. Or when in the midst the cacophony of noise you ordered your drink, then how could he carry out this task?

He stole a side-glance at you, only then wishing he didn’t.

There was something almost hypnotic about the way your fingers tenderly curled around the glass and brought it up, pressing to your lips. Despite the surrounding and background noise that busted around the bar — clink of bottles, soft music playing, the hum of conversation, the men cheering for their football team playing on the TV — Hotch found himself able to discern the sound of that shot sliding down your throat in a slow motion, just momentarily tingling beneath the sensitive skin on your neck.

While you were not paying attention, he allowed his gaze to move from your face, down the skin of your neck and arm, to the glass held in your fingers, then finally settling on your lips.

“Just one." You made two promises there.

You promised the first time, setting your glass down on the bar counter once you felt his glance on you, disapproving your way of handling. However, much to your shock, he remained silent.

Just one. You promised the second time — but this time to yourself — once you caught a glimpse from the corner of your eye that he was giving you one of those looks that initially shook the earth beneath your feet and then stabilised you.

Just one because one was needed to put you in a right mood — the ideal ambiance in a corner of your mind, not as distant as one might assume. Just one because you were scared to risk how’d you behave yourself in his presence in this atmosphere.

And he let you take just one because he knew the two drinks did the charm for you.

One was absolutely harmless.

Two… made you into a fiddler.

2 days ago

"Advertisement?" He paused in the middle of flipping a page in his file, glancing at you skeptically from beneath his dark eyebrows, weighing the possible veracity behind your words. Then, you watched as his gaze dropped to your lips only then being hyper-aware of how you’d left your office.

You found yourself muttering an apology, glancing sideways, your fingertips ever-so-slightly brushing the sticky sugar away. And offered, "Take a look."

Minutes ago, inside the privacy of your office, surrounded by 4 walls, you were enjoying your lunch break.

To be quite frank, it was not how you typically chose to spend your time off. You would be out or in the cafeteria with the rest of your team, but the situation in the last few days was a little different. Venturing outside — past your office — provided a great opportunity to run into your boss, which you’d been attempting to steer clear of recently. And so you were sitting in the comfort of your chair, your legs crossed on the table, a doughnut in one and the newspaper in the other hand.

Rising fuel prices.

California wildfires.

British police find car bombs in London.

You found it impossible to continue reading. The purpose of a lunch break was a time-out from work. So you flipped through a couple of pages to reach the back section of the newspaper where the advertisements were located. You’d been wanting for quite some time now to find yourself another car. And so, you skimmed through some advertisements, while others you carefully read, until one finally caught your attention.

It was one of the less prominent ads, and the yellow letters and caption were the one that allured you every time. Every 4th of a month.

Find love! Find gay friends! Find you! FIND OUT! If you are looking to find more about sex, love, or relationship with other guys — congratulations! You've just found it!

You sat upright in the chair, the heels of your boots echoing off the tile floor. With the doughnut firmly gripped between your teeth, you held the newspaper with both hands now and brought it closer to your eyes.

An ultimate guide on how gay men get guys.

"Oh, God!" You exclaimed, hastily taking the doughnut out of your mouth and putting it back in the box on the desk, grabbing the newspaper and making your way to Hotch’s office.

“That has to be it.” Leaning back deep in his chair, Derek played with the pencil in his hands. "We have already analyzed and investigated into all the rational methods that the unsub could’ve used to reach the victims.”

"Absolutely." Garcia added and hurriedly continued speaking in a barely understandable manner, as if reluctant she might acknowledge her mistake. "I checked everything: their online activities, credit cards, surveillance footage... Nothing."

"We know that none of these victims used online-blind-dating sites, or whatever. We know they've never set foot in a gay bar before. So how did the killer get to them? Their family and friends never suspected, let alone knew, that they were gay." Rossi explained. "The victims themselves weren't aware of their homosexuality.”

“And this ad right here…” You unfolded your arms and leaned forward on the desk, glancing at Hotch briefly before focusing down where your finger tapped the new, textured paper. "It provides exactly that. To find themselves from within. This has to be it.”

“We also know the profile." Hotch finally replied, not taking his eyes off you. "I want you to find all the previous newspapers in which these ads can be found. The meetings’ location, time and place, must be announced somewhere in there. There’s a possibility the messages will be encrypted, so take Reid with you. And Garcia…” You nodded in agreement, and he stared at you for a minute longer before shifting his focus to Garcia, who stood behind you, picking at her nails. “Find everything you can about this ad and how the victims were able to contact the advertiser."

The murder seemed linked to the ad, and Hotch’s instincts were usually accurate because they were not mere guesses, but predictions based on numerous factors, all considered in light of his experience.

Gathering all the needed information, the team agreed on the strategy.

“We need someone inside. Someone who will play a confused young man, curious, eager..." Rossi didn't even get a word out, and everyone's gaze — some sneakily, some more openly — were fixed on Reid who was ready to protest but decided otherwise. Arguing with all of you was pointless. Besides, he was the only young man around — he’d remember this and gladly rub it on Derek’s nose.

On the other side of the table, Derek and Emily quickly agreed on teaming up.

"I agree. But if possible, I would like to avoid this long-awaited undercover mission, and be the one to stay behind with Garcia. My stomach still hurts." Waving his hand at his stomach, Rossi grimaced.

“Do you realize we are discussing a man who managed to overpower four men, rape them, and then kill them?" Reid objected.

"Y/L/N and I will join." Hotch said expressionlessly, interlocking his gaze with you just for a second.

Join how? You wondered, your elbow on the armrest, your chin resting on your fist. Garcia stood up, placing documents atop each other, muttering under her breath. "Nothing easier… just be the two of you, but together."

Hotch's eyebrows snapped together, meeting your eyes briefly once again before he looked to the side at Garcia with barely tamed fire in his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

“I- um- sir…” Garcia stuttered and you seized the opportunity to leave the office before Hotch unleashed that smoldering fire on all of you.

Glancing behind your shoulder, Garcia ran after you with a swift pace you'd never seen her take before. Together you both hurried down the stairs and rushed through the glass door, cursing each other before parting ways in the hallway — each heading to your own den.

And that was how you got here.

“So… A gay man in a straight people’s bars.” You finally spoke, trying to sound casual even though this meeting wasn’t. “Finds his victims who are also gay and kills them the same night. At first glance it doesn’t make much sense.”

“Without knowing what we know — it doesn’t.” Hotch replied, then took a sip from his bottle. The victims had never before crossed the threshold of the bars in which they met with the unsub. The unsub found them the same night, and then killed them. “But it was a smart move to throw the cops off to a wrong path.”

“Definitely.” You agreed. “In this modern digitalized world who’d even bother to check the newspapers.”

When he didn’t say anything in return, you sighed, leaning towards the bar, pushing the empty glass away.

"You two look like a date gone wrong." Even with the music playing, Derek's amused voice could be heard loud and clear through the small earbud piece. You leaned back slightly to catch sight of Derek and Emily dancing lavishly together.

“Like every date Y/N goes to.” Emily added, smirking at you.

That earned them a reproachful look from their boss.

Nice, now your boss knew how lame your dating life was.

But nonetheless, you laughed, and the warmth of your laughter enveloped Hotch's heart. Looking back at you, he softened and watched as you swirled the ice cubes in your fresh Coke with a small red straw. Then bringing the straw up to your lips, you took a sip. Now it was his jaw that clenched.

“Incorrect…” you playfully remarked, your eyes sparkled as you held his gaze determinedly over the rim of your glass, and that victorious grin on your face transitioned into something affectionate, something intimate. “This one takes the cake."

“Sir! I told you gotta act!”

"Garcia." Aaron warned.

“I can multitask, sir.” She quickly added, with a hint of reverence. “I have a reputation I intend to keep. So no, no developments as of now."

"Could he possibly know we've found out?" You asked.

"I doubt it."

While talking, Aaron usually had the tendency to look around the room, examine the faces and look for any signs of trouble. The bar had an overall sense of amusement, with sporadic bursts of loud chatter and individuals savoring drinks such as beer, neat whiskey, or some mixed drinks and sodas with straws. Couples, friends, loners — everyone was busy either drinking, dancing, or... kissing.

His hand trembled, holding onto the beer tightly as he brought it to his mouth and chugged, grimacing. "What happened with Brad?" He finally asked, taking you aback just a little.

It’d been a few days since that conversation with him about Brad, and it had quite bothered you that he hadn’t asked you anything about your final decision.

"Who is Brad?" You chuckled, your head dropping slightly before looking up at him again, a warm smile forming on your lips that... It stole something from him, something he couldn’t express crisply enough. In this very casual manner, you appeared …beautiful while brushing back the hair that skimmed your cheeks.

He frowned, glancing down, collecting his thoughts. At some point along the way you had become a distraction. Pushing that realization aside with a blink, he couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He looked at the beer he was holding like it was an escape — a safe haven from your gaze. He had nearly consumed all of his drink. Hotch had been refraining from alcohol for some time, now it was starting to affect him. He did drink stronger drinks alone in his apartment or at Rossi’s after his divorce, and even then he noticed he couldn’t keep up with it the way his younger self used to. Yeah. It had to be it.

“Well, I suppose it was the right thing to do.”

“Well, in fact it was you who helped me realize. Some mistakes aren’t worth repeating twice. So cheers to that, sir.” You swivelled sideways and towards him, holding your glass up before taking a sip.

Sir. There that came again. It was not that he hated being called ‘sir’, damn, Garcia called him that too many times and the thought never appalled him. He was just not used to hear you call him ‘sir’. It was mainly ‘Hotch’, sometimes even ‘Hotchner’, or if you were being a little tease then you referred to him as ‘boss’.

“Sir!” Garcia’s voice came through, cutting his thoughts in half. “He’s here!”

You shared a knowing glance.

And then suddenly, some guy sauntered in, physically placing himself between you and Hotch. The action was unexpected, quite bold. However, you then realized that to most outsiders, the two of you probably didn't appear to be a couple. In this very bar, couples around you were doing…things, and the two of you hardly spoke at all.

“Hey there sunshine.” He drawled, leaning against the bar, looking down at you. The tall man didn’t mind or acknowledge Hotch at all. He had black lush hair, probably devastatingly blue eyes, in his late 20s – early 30s. Closer to your age than Hotch was anyway, he thought to himself. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Finding yourself in this awkward position, before you could even answer, Hotch cleared his throat. The latter turned around peevishly just enough to give Hotch gray glares, and arching an eyebrow, replied disgusted. "I didn't ask you... pal." And he turned to you again, a jolly smirk on his face.

So Hotch was right. The man had devastatingly blue eyes.

Aaron glanced annoyedly at his beer. If he could have, he'd have smashed that bottle on his head. But decided to go with a more rational option and patted the man’s shoulder.

"It's showtime." Derek's voice sang in the bug.

"She's busy... pal." Your boss countered, his voice low and tinged with warning.

"Doesn't seem so..." He now addressed Hotch over his shoulder, choosing not to let your companion bother him or to take his eyes off of you. “…pal.”

The man’s finger made way under your chin and he tilted your head backwards, hovering over you.

“Oh ‘xcuse me…” You scoffed disapprovingly at the boldness of his action, moving your head away from his touch. Bristled.

The crease between Aaron’s eyebrows deepened further, keenly resolute. He felt the bubbles of anger simmer inside him, waiting for the right sign to explode. He smothered a sigh, steeling himself. If he had been on assignment somewhere on the field — any other, or on a real date with you — he'd have handled the situation in a much different way. Instead, he put his hand on the man's shoulder again, but this time firmly, and pushed him away from you.

"I said..." The baleful timbre of Aaron’s voice carried the same threat evident on his face. He reached out and grabbed the stem of your chair. The tiles beneath creaked as he dragged the chair towards himself, closing the gap between the two of you. Your knees accidentally brushed against his leg and the familiar warm sensation returned to your stomach, causing your pulse to quicken. "She's with me." Something ickered in Aaron’s eyes. You were unsure how to interpret it.

"And what could a woman like her want with a grump like you?" You heard the guy say, stepping towards Hotch, his chest puffed out.

You had to stop it before it escalated.

Deliberately, you inched closer, your gaze meeting Aaron’s. Behind your flashing eyes, he could see both — a permission and an apology for what you were bracing yourself to do.

“It’s okay…” You began gently, swallowing as you placed your hands on Aaron’s knees, stroking his legs. You couldn't look away from your boss's eyes, and as you smiled, subtly wrinkling your nose at him, you could have sworn that the muscles under the denim fabric hardened even more than they had just a moment before. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Being in such proximity, it was impossible to ignore all the things Aaron noticed about you — the depth of your bottomless eyes, shiny lips, the peachy scent of your hair was the only scent worthy in this noisome crowd. He was definitely drunk, a bit tempted. Never had he ever been intoxicated solely by the subtle scent of a shampoo.

"Well, if you wanna have real fun, I'll be sitting over there." He winked at you, pointing somewhere behind you.

You both watched as the man walked away, only then ending the charade. An awkward tension set between you two that made you feel every beat of your wilding heart. In a profound quietness, you both swivelled around and towards the bar. In a deafening silence, both of you, reflected on it without acknowledging that you longed for that intimacy.

“I-…”

“Do you see him?” Hotch spoke over you, back to business. You quickly glanced over your shoulder and back to Aaron, nodding.

“Ok. Good.” He pressed the earpiece with his finger. “Morgan?”

“He’s talking to Reid.” Garcia spoke instead.

“It’s definitely him, Aaron.” Rossi confirmed.

“We have a bit of a situation here.” Both of you looked at where you last saw Emily and Derek. You couldn't get the proper view at the two of them sitting in the booth now, but it looked like a group of women stood beside their desk.

Morgan, you rolled your eyes playfully. And then…

"Wait..." You frowned, and Hotch watched as the gears in your head turned before recognition dawned on your face. You looked up at him. “Isn't that Joseph Moetski?"

Hotch glowered, thinking. The newsdealer. He still hadn’t had a chance to look back and see for himself, but it would make perfect sense. After all, Joseph was a newsagent and the team had known about him —you had worked with him in an occasion or two when you first started working for Hotch. He had the access to all the media: magazines, newspapers, television, and so on.

Aaron drew closer towards you, not wanting to blow your cover away, now his whole body facing you. You felt a dangerous flutter in your heart as you looked at him squarely into eyes, never anticipating what he was about to do. He reached forward to move the hair from your face back over your shoulder and then tucked some behind your ear. His gaze was dark and intent — you could see the concentration in there, maybe even slight tenderness, and it sent your mind in wild directions.

Your hair was very silky and soft under his palm, the focus of his vision shifted from the man who was seated beside Reid a few meters behind, to you.

“Garcia?” His spoke coolly, professionally. But there was nothing professional about the way he was watching you. You ducked your head and gently stroked the skin on your neck, a lively red blossom of color rose up your cheeks, a hesitant smile stretched across your face. It was such a small gesture. And then his big hand rested on the side of your neck, using the opportunity to feel your skin — something he’d never admit to himself. Hoping he couldn’t feel your telltale pulse, you had to remind yourself that he was your very professional never-crossing-a-line boss.

It was a dangerous game to even think about something like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. For years you’d been harbouring feelings for him — platonic or not, and this was not going to help.

“Bingo! It’s him!”

“Sorry to interrupt you, birdies.” A bartender interrupted and you both turned around, almost jumping from your seats. “The politics around here are: you have to order another drink… or get the hell out of here. And as I can see, you drank all of yours.” Crossing her arms on her chest, she asked. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

As Hotch took the chance to order new drinks, anxiety creeped up your back, and you looked back over your shoulder just in time to see Spence holding the back of his head as well as the unsub running toward and past the two of you.

Gripping your gun close under your clothes, you reached out and tugged on Hotch's shirt. “Hotch!” You promptly got to your feet and chased after the suspect.

You heard a chair fall onto the dark tiles of the floor somewhere behind you, disgruntled and angry shouts and remarks from people who were bumbed or knocked down by the man you were running after.

Fortunately, the unsub cleared a way for you, allowing you to quickly catch up with him, grab him and push him. His face met the ground, and hastily you sat on top of him, pushing his hands and securing them on his upper back. But to say you were struggling would be an understatement. The unsub was a strong man, twice your size, so when he managed to free one hand from your grasp it was a no surprise. He attempted to pull you upwards and you sat unsteadily on his back, swaying like you were at a rodeo, a quick "whoa" slipping out of your mouth. Hotch rushed to help you, kicking the unsub’s feet, and without a second thought, his chest pressed against your back as he leaned closely from behind you, his arms wrapped around you as he assisted in restraining the suspect before Emily approached and put the handcuffs on.

The third party — Reid, watching it all unfold in front of his eyes, couldn’t help but smile at you both even through the throbbing pain in his head. You were just like Mulder and Scully. Tangled and messy, unable to see it, yet still fantastic as a team.

Now the only thing left was, he concluded, for you two to realize it finally.

In all that rush and adrenaline kicking in, neither of you did have time to process or relish the way your bodies melded together.

But this whole night was something that would keep you both up tonight and wouldn’t let you get that well-deserved good night’s sleep.

[irisintheafterglow]

satoru got his big break with the library desk employee. so what? university!suguru lost the bet, sure, but for some reason his interest in you didn't leave his mind. he'd known his best friend was crushing hard since the first time they'd entered the library and the pretty student smiled at satoru from behind the front desk.

i think i'm in love. suguru, hunched over a chemistry textbook, glances at satoru from the corner of his eye.

it's literally their job to make you feel welcome, genius.

but what if they, like, truly love me? he's dumbfounded by his friend's rose-colored delusion.

you're a doofus.

he continues thinking about it long after the study session concludes (a one sided session, since satoru insisted how he could woo the front desk assistant for the next two hours) and follows his normal routine of heading to the rec center to blow off some steam. he barely thinks twice about scanning the barcode on his phone at the entrance gates when the hairs on the back of his neck stand stick-straight. someone is watching him.

he scans the lobby and finds a pair of eyes across the floor, halfway hidden by a large counter for the member services desk. the eyes disappear before he can register who exactly was staring and you hope he didn't spot you as you duck behind the safety of the counter. suguru narrows his eyes but doesn't think twice about it.

the following week is when he makes the bet and hatches his plan to get satoru to shut up and take some of his money in the process. it felt like an easy victory: suguru knew he wasn't terrible looking, and you must've been interested considering how much you stared at him. he wasn't big on the school's dating scene and reserved his limited energy for whatever makeouts he found at his frat house's parties; to him, winning your naive affection would be a piece of cake. all he had to do was get your number and satoru's money would be his. simple enough, is what he thought.

but for the life of him, he could not catch you.

since the day he caught you staring, he noticed every time he entered the gym that you were looking and would duck away before he could so much as blink. at first, he lingered and waited for you to pop back up from behind the counter, but ended that strategy when he was asked if he was loitering on the property. the one time he approached the counter, you had conveniently disappeared to throw the intramural jerseys into the dryer...for the ten minutes he was waiting around for you to return. again, he was accused of loitering and forced to move on.

any progress with the rec worker? satoru whispered as he browsed for an interesting-enough looking book that he can make up small-talk over. he picks up a random one, something about technological advancements in ancient china, and tucks it under his arm.

i wish, suguru lamented. it's like they know i see them and are purposefully avoiding me so they don't have to talk to me.

i told you, i'd give you 'worst resting bitch face' if we could choose senior superlatives in high school, satoru reminds him with a thoughtful expression. also, you're in a frat! frat guys' reputation on campus isn't exactly the cleanest.

you're saying i need to look nicer? he examines his hoodie decorated with large iron-on patches of his frat's greek letters. it didn't look too dirty, he'd run it in the wash just last sunday...

i'm saying you need to look friendlier and less like a fuckboy.

oh. makes sense.

that's rich coming from you, suguru counters without acknowledging that maybe his friend was right. if he was going to woo you and hopefully knock down satoru's ego a few notches, he needed to be a little less...frat-like?

wordlessly taking the advice, he skips the loud philanthropy week shirt and opts for a plain muscle tee for his next gym session. black shirt and grey sweatpants shouldn't be too arrogant, right? he even practices his smile in the toothpaste-stained bathroom mirror until it's warm enough to save the titanic from the iceberg. tying his hair back so you can see all of his friendly face, he doesn't give you a moment to duck away when he steps through the doors at exactly 5:30pm.

he turns his head as soon as he steps into the air conditioning.

you're already staring.

he stares right back for a moment before pulling the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly, just like he practiced.

you gasp slightly and he thinks today is the day that you finally let him approach you.

unfortunately, his clothes, hair, face, and smile are enough to induce a nosebleed.

fuck!

by the time he rushes to the counter, eyes wide with panic, you've already shuffled away into the back and another worker informs him of your bloody-faced status. a little coyly than to go unnoticed, he notes to himself, but accepts his loss anyway and plans how to try again the next day.

after two weeks of putting on his plainest clothes, tying his cleanest hairdos, practicing his warmest smiles, and hurrying his fastest steps to get to the counter, suguru is absolutely ashamed to report that he's made zero progress.

interestingly enough, other girls at the gym had started to notice his changes in behavior and wardrobe, but he couldn't muster any energy to return their flirtations as they brush their fingers against his exposed biceps. all he could think about is you, and the way your eyes seem to sparkle when he meets them from across the lobby. he's snuck glances at the pens you abandon when you escape, the stickers on your water bottle, and the way you wear a special button on your uniform shirt every friday. you seem to always have a granola bar wrapper lingering on the desk, the same flavor each day but changing every week. he was learning so much about you without ever uttering a word, and it was killing him.

when satoru announces triumphantly that he finally got a date with the library attendant, suguru doesn't even blink. with his lack of progress, it was only a matter of time before his plan ultimately backfired and satoru was the true, smug winner of the bet. still, despite the earnings paid and the yapping continued, suguru wanted to talk to you. he wanted to learn about your interests, your goals, your life. he wanted to solve your mystery that he'd unknowingly forced himself into, and he'd be damned if he didn't at least get your name before the semester ended.

after months of waiting for you to talk to him, he swallows his pride and goes to the gym half an hour early.

"hi," he says carefully while you finish up whatever was on your computer screen.

"hi there, how can i help y--" when you finally meet his eyes, your practiced smile drops into pure shock and you take several moments to snap your face back into place. "i...um...how can i--oh!" you whirl around to your nearest coworker at a whiplash-causing speed, rambling quickly about how you forgot to inflate the volleyballs for the playoffs or some bullshit. thankfully, your coworker just blinks at you and then says that they can take care of it, patting your shoulder reassuringly and giving suguru a knowing look. before he knows it, it's you and him, just the moment he's been waiting for, and he has no idea what to say.

"i'm sorry that i--"

"i was wondering if you--"

you both tumble over your words at the same time and he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. his bicep flexes with the motion and he catches your eyes rake it over. fearful of another nosebleed, he drops his arm abruptly and blurts out whatever words he can before you can scurry away.

"get dinner with me."

"i-i'm sorry?"

"i was wondering if you wanted to, you know," he shrugs sheepishly and is suddenly glad that none of his friends are there to tease his embarrassment, "get dinner sometime."

"you want to go on a date with me," you echo in disbelief. he nods slowly like any sudden movement would frighten you. "but...but why?"

"i think you're really pretty," he replies simply.

"but i've been hiding from you for the past--"

"two months, one week, and four days," he finishes for you before he can think about what he's saying. "i mean, not that i'm counting." your face finally breaks its shell of surprise and you burst out laughing. suguru thinks it's the best sound he's ever had the privilege of experiencing.

"so, just to be clear," you confirm when you've caught your breath. "i've been avoiding talking to you because seeing you look so good gives me nose bleeds. and now you want to get dinner with me?"

"i can bring copious amounts of tissues just in case, but yes." his expression becomes gravely serious, like he was giving you a request on his death bed. "please, say yes."

if it meant seeing how brightly you smiled when you finally murmur a yes, he would go through the entire bet with satoru three times over.

here u go @damb-it <3 hope you like it - sincerely, a library guest services attendant

[creaseevans]

Jujutsu Kaisen Headcanons - Suguru Geto

Suguru's the type of guy...

SFW: 

Suguru’s the soccer/hockey mom type of guy: he carries snacks, band aids, ibuprofen, tissues, gum, hair ties, and a spare set of socks in his bag at all times. That’s actually how you met him: you were at the coffee shop and asked several tables around you for a band aid (after the barista said they didn’t have any) until Suguru came over with one. He also offered a couple of alcohol swabs to clean things off before applying it.

Suguru’s the type of guy to forget to introduce himself. He gets so engrossed in the person in front of him and what they’re saying that he completely forgets how social interactions are supposed to go. You had to ask him at some point what you’re supposed to call him. He had to think about it for a moment as if he’d forgotten his own name.

(After chatting for almost an hour, he asked yours and you, very forwardly, also gave him your number.)

He’s the type of guy who drinks anything BUT plain coffee with milk and sugar, you conclude by the fourth date. The man will drink matcha, he will drink hot cocoa, he will drink iced or warm lattes with butt loads of cold foam or sweet syrups drizzled throughout, and he will drink LOTS of fruity teas. But a plain coffee with just milk and sugar may actually kill him?

Not only is Suguru the type of guy to paint his own nails, but he also insisted on teaching you after discovering how badly you do the edges (it’s hard!!!!). He likes for you both to have matching or complimentary manicures. It’s also a complete waste that he taught you how to paint because he never lets you do it and always wants to do your manicures and pedicures himself. Sunday nights are for the fingies and toes.

(Coincidentally, he HATES the smell of polish and remover. He has to wear a clip on his nose the entire time that makes his voice all high and nasally.)

Suguru is that guy with a seven-step skincare and five-step hair care routine. You can’t even describe the face he made upon discovering your simple shampoo-and-conditioner, face wash-and-moisturizer antics. But you do wish you’d taken a picture of it.

He totally forgets to eat sometimes. You wonder how it’s possible for him to be the size and height he is if this has always been the case. That is until you share your first real dinner together and he eats nearly five thousand calories in one sitting. He then proceeds to finish your leftovers as well. When you ask him about this deranged behaviour, he just shrugs and says, “I don’t know. I love food, but I don’t really think about it unless it’s in front of me.”

Suguru hasn’t worked out in a gym in almost two years, apparently. He just does runs and “generic labour” at the farm he works at. The solid abs and bouldered deltoids he hides underneath baggy clothes would beg to differ.

Suguru is a total plant princess. The first time you went to his place, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t a greenhouse. Potted wonders and vines and vases were all over the place. This came as even more earth-shattering when a little white cat tinkered her way through the hall and snuggled her butt right up against your ankles. “Oh, no, she knocks things over all the time. But I can’t exactly get mad at her, so I just re-pot everything. That’s why all of these are melamine or recycled plastic.”

That’s another thing about Suguru: he has tremendous amounts of patience. You’ve never met anyone as kind or forgiving as him. You’ve asked him to share his meditation routine with you but he keeps lying about not having one.

(The cat’s name is Dandelion; Dandy for short. She’s a white domestic short-hair with blue eyes and a pink button nose.)

Suguru’s a very formal type of guy. You didn’t expect it, but he took you out on a proper date and verbally said the words “Will you be my girlfriend?” and then proceeded to clarify with “Like, romantically. Not like a friend who’s also a girl—which is totally fine, if that’s what you prefer to be, I just—” and that’s when you cut him off with a kiss and he settled down.

He’s the type of guy to love openly and quickly. It’s less than two months in when he just casually drops an “I love you” on you one morning as you’re on the toilet and he dips his head in to grab a hair brush. Then he simply leaves you to marinate in it while you sit there in shock, unmoving except for the plop-plop-plop in the toilet.

In contrast to how casually he’s able to deliver the sentiment, he’s entirely floored when you return it in bed that same night. He’s so taken that he stops moving and has to wait a moment to get it back together. But after that one still moment, the rest of it feels like you’re being attacked by a tornado.

Suguru’s the type of guy to leave “I love you” sticky notes by your bedside or on your door. One time, you decided to keep the note and stuck it on something at his place before leaving. It was returned to you on your laptop the next day. It’s now become a sort of game between you; sometimes the notes get passed back and forth so long that the adhesive on the back completely dissipates. After writing a new one, you both toss a coin to decide who gets to keep the old one. Suguru’s won seven out of ten tosses, so far.

He’s not the type to gloat when he wins. Somehow, he finds a way to turn his wins into yours. Like how he ended up with most of the old “I love you” post-its but folded them into paper flowers and put them on artificial stems. He gave you the bouquet on your one-year anniversary. You bawled like a little bitch.

Suguru hates seeing you cry or hurt. It’s the only time you’ve seen him distressed. It makes him physically sick and you can tell by how pale and sweaty he gets. He banks his sick days at work since you started dating. Every month when you get your period, Suguru hibernates at your place with you for the first three days because he knows they’re the hardest. He cooks for you, keeps you showered and clean, massages you, naps with you, cleans for you, and he’s at your general beck and call otherwise. Your favourite part is always ordering in impulsive cravings and watching your favourite shows or movies. You also enjoy breaking into the piggy bank of sweets and candy he saves up for you all month.

He’s the type to slowly move you both in together without your ever realizing. Roughly a year in, you discovered just how much of your stuff was now filling in his otherwise spacious new place. The only things left at your apartment were a few pairs of clothes and your mattress (everything else was part of the owner’s furnishings). This little scheme dawned on you when your lease was up and instead of helping you look for another place, Suguru conveniently chimed, “Oh, why don’t you just stay with me? All your stuff’s here anyways.”

(As formal as he is, turns out he was too shy to ask you to move in. He thought giving you a key to his place as a Christmas present was a big enough hint and has no idea how you didn’t clock it. You tell him you would have said yes if he’d just asked. He just blushes and smiles.)

Suguru is a big tipper at restaurants and cafes. He often tips more than the actually meal or drink costs. You fear this may have detrimental effects on his finances, but he somehow manages to keep things running more than smoothly. Suspiciously smoothly.

Turns out, he doesn’t just work at the farm. He actually (very successfully, too) co-owns it with his best friend Satoru, which leads to the next point: Suguru’s just the type of guy to downplay exactly how well he’s doing or how much he has. (He has a lot.)

Since he wakes up ridiculously early most mornings to tend to farmwork, Suguru’s the type of guy to cook you an elaborate, three course breakfast each time and leave it covered in the oven with a note on the door for you to enjoy. Meanwhile, he shoots back a creamy, sugary beverage or two and just raw dogs the rest of the day on an empty stomach until the late lunch or dinner you share together. You’re trying to help him remember to eat more often, so you’ve started packing him just as elaborate lunches and snack packs at night once he’s gone to bed. You have to text or call him to remind him to actually eat out of them. He always enjoys them when he does.

NSFW:

Suguru takes his sweet time initiating sex for the first time. Upon reaching week four of the relationship with not a lick of intimacy, you had to break the ice on the subject. Suguru was surprised, then laughed it off. “No, I’m not asexual. I just didn’t want to weird you out or get right into sex without your deliberate consent.”

(You gave it to him instantly.)

Since his middle name is basically serenity, you were a bit worried as to how the sex would go. You don’t altogether mind the notion of “love making,” but you’re also not a purely vanilla person by nature.

Suguru’s generously girthy and lands in the seven-inch range. He’s uncut and always shaves everything clean off. You’ve never seen a crotch as hairless as his. There’s a thick vein that runs from below his belly button, down his beautifully carved pelvis and right up the length of his shaft. You like tracing it with your tongue and watching his reactions. He gets real breathy and sensitive about it.

Suguru can last a while, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take the time to service you in at least two to three other ways before finally giving you what you want. He’s quite the skilled tradesman with both his tongue and his hands, but you prefer his long, knuckly fingers over the former. Something about the veins and muscles in his arms when he endlessly plunges palm-deep inside of you drives you right over the edge. While he’s quite humble otherwise, getting you to orgasm is one thing he’s quite smug about. The way he smirks when you fall apart for him is absolutely sadistic.

Contrary to his soft, silky personality and demeanour, he’s quite the devil in arms behind closed doors. (Sometimes, those doors aren’t even closed.) 

He’s a biter (genuinely shocking). He likes to mark you in places where nobody would be able to see it and find out just how rough and territorial your sweet, doting boyfriend truly is. Such places include your back, your tits (specifically, right around your nipples), the plush of inner thigh right at the apex of your legs, the outer skinfolds right next to your “perfectly suckable lips” (no, NOT your mouth), and all over the meat of your ass.  

Suguru doesn’t eat pussy; he makes out with it. He French kisses and has an affair with it. Just let him do it and expect to be there for the better part of an hour, probably. Nothing you say or do can deter him from his “favourite meal in the whole world.”

He has no problem putting you in your place when it comes to sex. It’s genuinely some alter ego type shit. The change is a complete 180, to the point that you sometimes feel like you’re cheating on your amazing, loving boyfriend with some sex-crazed maniacal psychopath that leaves you shuddering and unable to stand on your feet for a good few hours afterwards without buckling knees or trembling thighs. The only part that reminds you they’re the same person is when he gently cleans you up afterwards and apologetically kisses all the places where he’d bit, clawed, smacked or choked only moments ago. The comedown is nearly as thrilling as the experience itself.

Suguru loves mocking and demeaning you with simultaneously praiseworthy titles. Phrases like “My precious little whore,” “Perfect fucking slut,” or “My stupidly pretty princess” roll off his tongue just as easily as “My little baby,” “Good fucking girl,” and your personal favourite: “My little pussy fairy.” It’s quite the whiplash.

Suguru fucks like his life depends on it. All the calm and peace behind his foxy monolids drains the moment he realizes what’s about to happen. The fire and hunger that replaces that calm is enough to make your heart plunge down and drop out through your ass every single time regardless of how often it happens. He is not a gentle lover, and you couldn’t be more thankful for how viciously he strokes or how diligently he chokes or how shamelessly he orders you to open your mouth so he can fill it with his fingers and spit into the back of your throat while the head of his cock breaks the rim of your cervix and your eyes roll like a slot machine into your skull.

He wasn’t as vocal at first because he was shy and anxious that you would get turned off by it. Turns out, when he moans and whimpers it’s so fucking delicate that your pussy flutters just at the sounds that come out of him. While you enjoy his gruff snarls and grunts and the tone of his poetic degradation, you take every chance you can get your hands on to have him undone and vulnerable, shivering and trembling and nearly sobbing from ecstasy at the worship you deliver.

Suguru never makes you beg or ask for it. He does like to hear you say what you want, but he often readily delivers your services on a golden platter. He’s just so generous like that.

While he gets to address you with all kinds of pet names and kinky titles, he only ever wants you to call him “Suguru” between the sheets. “Baby” is too vague, and nothing else quite establishes his dominance over you the same as hearing gasps of his name over and over again while you convulse and shatter against him, so soft and weak and vulnerable that it makes his heart stop.

He makes you keep your eyes open and on him at all times. “Keep your focus on me,” “Look at what I’m doing to you, keep watching,” “Look at me with those pretty eyes, I wanna see how big they get when you come for me,” “Don’t you dare look away,” all of that. Even when you’re kissing now you’re both always looking at one another. You don’t think you can go back to kissing with your eyes closed again.

He asked you in the beginning if you want him to use condoms just so you wouldn’t have to deal with contraceptive side effects. You used them a few times before realizing how badly you wanted to just fluid bond with him. He has never complained about this; he’s ready to face any consequences, should they happen. And while he loves going to pro-choice rallies with you, he does fantasize from time to time about a little version of you running around the farm, driving him crazy with worry.

Suguru’s favourite place to come is on your face, because your face is his favourite sight in the entire world. Yes, he loves your body. But it was your nervous smile and hopeful eyes that caught his eye the very first time and kept him looking back again and again. Seeing his cum streaked across your gorgeous lips and dripping down your cheeks and chin is a mental image he frequents regularly throughout the day.

(One day, you make him lick the cum off your face and feed it to you by kiss. This changes his brain chemistry forever. You’re definitely the one.)

[lucentloo]

Beautiful Boy

Summary: You find James singing Harry back to sleep in the middle of the night and James apologizes for how he's been acting.

Wc: 1302

Content Warnings: Lily died, sorry folks, sad James for the tiniest bit, some swearing at the end, after the war, kissing, cuddling, apologies, making up, no real argument but implied argument, important question: Waffles or Pancakes? I think that's it, please tell me if I should put other warnings.

James Potter x Fem!reader

A/N: Good morning/night! Thank you for stopping to read this fic! This is the sixth one that I've written and I'm gonna be so honest when I say that I did not think I would be spouting this many but so far I've posted a fic every day! Anyway! I hope you enjoy and have a good rest of your day/night!

The sharp, lingering chill that seeps into your bones is the first sensation to wash over you as you rouse from sleep. Even though the blankets cocoon you in a snug embrace, a cold draft slips in, leaving your skin prickled and yearning for warmth. As your mind awakes fully, the unsettling absence of your husband, James, becomes apparent. You stretch your hand out towards his side of the bed, fingers brushing against the empty sheets, cold and untouched.

With a faint groan, you pry your eyes open, squinting at the harsh beam of light that spills in from the hallway, casting a bright glare across the dimly lit room. Rolling over, you glance at the alarm clock perched on the bedside table, its numbers illuminating the darkness. Two in the morning. 

A resigned sigh escapes your lips as you rub the sleep from your eyes, shaking off the remnants of dreams. Maybe James had been tormented by nightmares of that fateful Halloween night, or perhaps Sirius had sought refuge here again after yet another explosive quarrel with Remus. Rebuilding relationships in the wake of war is no simple task, and you and James have learned that all too well.

Reluctantly, you peel back the heavy blankets and swing your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool floor beneath your feet. Your gaze falls upon James' sweater draped over the chair—a cozy, familiar garment that you had insisted he wash before sleep claimed him. A soft chuckle escapes you as you slip it over your head, welcoming its warmth while allowing yourself a moment of nostalgia for simpler times.

You quietly creep out of the dimly lit hallway that leads to your and James’ room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet. As you start to make your way downstairs, a beautiful melody wafts through the air, pulling you to a halt. You slowly turn around an irresistible urge guiding your feet toward Harry’s room. With each step, the tender sounds of singing grow louder, enchanting and soothing against the backdrop of the night.

Peeking through the slightly ajar door, you catch a heartwarming sight: James sits in the old rocking chair that once belonged to his mother, cradling Harry against his chest. Harry clutches his thumb in his mouth, his tiny cheeks glistening with remnants of tears that are gradually drying into faint trails of glimmering moisture. You lean against the doorframe, a soft smile blooming on your lips, your heart swelling at this serene moment.

“The monster’s gone, he’s on the run, and your Daddy’s here,” James sings in a gentle, raspy voice, the exhaustion of sleep still clinging to him. The enchantment of his lullaby lulls Harry, whose eyelids flutter and finally close in sweet surrender to slumber. You tiptoe into the room, scanning the cluttered space around you for Harry’s soother. As you find it tucked behind a plush toy, James looks up at you with a quiet, warm smile, his eyes sparkling with love and relief. 

Kneeling beside them, you plant a soft kiss on James’ forehead before gently placing the soother in Harry’s mouth, replacing his thumb with a tender precision. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy,” James concludes the song, his voice trailing off as Harry drifts blissfully into dreamland. 

With careful hands, you lift Harry, allowing James a moment more to rest in the chair, undoubtedly more fatigued than you. You place him gently into his crib, tucking him in snugly to ensure his pajamas are fully on—after all, there was that one morning when you awoke to find him almost choked by his sleeves, twisted and tangled in his sleep.

Glancing back, you lean down and kiss Harry’s soft cheek before you feel the familiar warmth of arms wrapping around your waist. You straighten up, turning to find James right in front of you, his face buried in your shoulder as he exhales a shuddering breath. You run your fingers through his tousled hair, feeling the tension begin to melt away.

“I’m sorry,” you hear muffled into your skin, a heartfelt confession that resonates deep within you.

With a tender smile, you’ve been anticipating this apology all night. “It’s all right, my love,” you whisper gently, enveloped in the stillness of the room. “I know you have a lot on your mind right now; it’s okay.” 

James raises his head, his weary eyes meeting yours, searching for reassurance. “Thank you for understanding,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. “But I still shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as your heart aches for him. “No, you shouldn’t have,” you agree, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead. “But we’ll work on it together.” 

James nods silently, the weight of the night still clinging to him. You take his hand, leading him gently out of Harry’s room. He winces as the hallway light hits him, but once you both step into your darkened sanctuary, he visibly relaxes. With a youthful eagerness, he practically jumps into bed, prompting a laugh from you as you admire his vibrant spirit.

You switch off the hallway light, watching as James is enveloped in the comforting shadows of the room. After closing the door, you slip off his sweater and hang it on the chair, only to crawl back into bed. Your arms open wide, and James eagerly welcomes your embrace, his warm skin melting the chill that has settled on you.

Silence envelops you, and just as you feel yourself drifting away into sleep, James speaks softly into the stillness, “Can we have waffles tomorrow? Harry wants some.” His voice is a mere whisper, but it tickles your heart with warmth. When you chuckle, he leans in and kisses your shoulder gently, sharing the affection of the moment.

“Of course, baby, we can have waffles tomorrow. Why not invite Sirius and Remus as well? It would be delightful to see them again, and I’m sure Harry would love it.” You suggest, and as you glance down at him, you catch a glimpse of a wistful smile blooming on his face, a spark of love dancing in his eyes that hadn’t been there in days. It sends your heart soaring.

“If Remus comes over, we might have to make pancakes instead; he’s quite picky,” James comments, his tone playful yet serious. At first, you think he’s joking, but when his expression remains unchanged, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“Wait, he still hasn’t gotten over that?” you ask, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

James shrugs, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “He’s the only person I’ve seen hold a grudge for nine long years.” 

You smile at his humor, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’ll make both waffles and pancakes; how does that sound?” you reply playfully, and in response, James leans forward to kiss you.

It’s not a kiss ablaze with heat but rather one laced with tenderness and affection. His slightly chapped lips softly brush against yours for a fleeting moment before he pulls back, his smile wide and radiant. “That would be lovely, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice silky with warmth. “You’re such a sweet girl.” The depth of his feelings wraps around you like a cozy blanket, making you wonder just how much love resides in his enormous heart.

You chuckle, hiding your face in the soothing scent of his hair. “Shut up and go to sleep, Jamie,” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. He hums contentedly, his eyes fluttering shut at the same instant as yours.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles with a sleepy tone, surrendering to dreams as he drifts off into the soft embrace of slumber.

[max1461]

One thing that was hard for me to get used to when I started learning math was what I call "static thinking". Math doesn't have any time evolution; everything either is or it isn't.

When non-mathematicians think about operations like addition, they think of them as "processes" that "occur": you take 2 and 8 and "combine them" to get 10. The expression "2+8" is like a sort of command, telling you to perform this process of addition. People think of math this way because it's basically how math is presented in schools.

To a mathematician, the expression "2+8" is not a command and it does not signify a process. "2+8" is merely another way of writing "10". They are two expressions with identical meaning. That's what "2+8=10" means, it means "these two expressions signify the same thing". There is no "process of addition" which "happens" and "results in 10". "10" and "2+8" are just alternate spellings of the same number.

For a more advanced example, consider the formal definition of a finite state machine. Intuitively, we think of a finite state machine as a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, into which we input some string in the machine's alphabet. After inputting the string, it travels around the machine according to the transition functions before finally arriving (or not) at a final node, and by this process a computation is performed. Of course, mathematically, this is nonsense. A finite state machine is a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, but the notion that you can "input a string" and it will "travel around the network via the transition functions" is bullshit. A string is recognized by the machine if and only if there exists a valid path for that string via the transition functions from an initial node to a final node. The string never actually travels the path, because such a notion does not exist in mathematics.

A finite state machine is not a machine, it never actually does anything. It sits there in the realm of abstractions, unmoving and static. Every string which it "recognizes" it recognizes by dint not of things that it does but of facts that simply are; every string recognized by the machine is so and has been so since the dawn of time, without the machine ever in fact going about the process of recognizing it.

This is philosophically a little bit trippy, but it can also confuse early math students in practice, too. As I mentioned at the top, I was very confused by it. For instance, in the finite state machine example, a perfectly ordinary statement to encounter in a proof might run something like

[Block of reasoning establishing that some string w is recognized by the machine M] [Block of reasoning establishing that all transition functions into a final node F of M have label x] ...since w is recognized by the machine M, there must exist a transition function T whose target is a final node and which sends w to that final node on the last character of w. Thus, since T must have label x, the final character of w is x.

To a mathematician this seems perfectly trivial. To me as a young math student, this kind thing seemed almost miraculous. We don't even know what w is, and yet we can run it through the machine? And from the fact that the machine recognized it, we can conclude things about what w is? We can tell its final character? How is that possible? I felt like this kind of thing involved "reaching into the future", reasoning about processes from the end when we haven't even begun them yet.

But, of course, we can do this, because there is no past or future in mathematics. The machine is simple there, the string is simply recognized or not, its last character simply is x or it isn't x. Nothing has to "happen".

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

[pprodsuga]

secrets untold (part 1) | sunghoon

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

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

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

SECRETS UNTOLD PLAYLIST

WORD COUNT: 24.1K

MASTERLIST + TAGLIST SIGN UP

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

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

warnings under the cut!

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.” 

“You already said that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon sleeps with a smile on his face. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

“That blows,” Jay says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake shrugs. “You said she was hot.” 

“I said she was pretty.”

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

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you.”

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

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

“Why is that a bad thing?” 

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

“Ouch,” Jake winces. “That bad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would totally be upset.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know. It’s just…hard.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raises his eyebrow. “This?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “That’s a shame.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You work in finance, right?”

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

“Sounds tough.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry you feel this way too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened next?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you feel like you can trust me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell just happened, Y/N?” 

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

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

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not an answer.” 

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

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

“Fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand, I think.” 

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

“So that’s it? I just leave?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a nice apartment.” 

“Thanks.” 

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

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

“We’ll need to bring both of those.” 

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the adrenaline is getting to me.” 

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

Sunghoon looks at you quizzically. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trained?” 

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t meet his eyes. 

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

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

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

“So where do we go?” 

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

“Jinju? Why Jinjiu?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like carrying out a hit.” 

His stomach plummets. 

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

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

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

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

“You owe me more than that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?” 

Sunghoon crashes. 

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

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

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

“But your job keeps you from that freedom.” 

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

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

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

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

“Me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

“Or, he’s working for someone.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?” 

The room is silent. 

“Someone you can trust.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can we call anyone for help? No. 

How about taking the bus instead of walking? No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him. “I didn’t.” 

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

“You’re assuming correctly.” 

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

“Tell me about yourself.” 

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

You nod. “Who are you, Sunghoon?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why a coffee shop?”

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

“That sounds like a really nice dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

“I guess so.” 

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

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

You break the silence.

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

Sunghoon is speechless. 

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Back to your apartment.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys, I can explain–”

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

“Guys—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullet?” 

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

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

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

“This is crazy,” Jake mutters. 

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

“Don’t tell me–”

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

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

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

“What the fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bugs?” Jake asks quizzically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure thing,’ Jay nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Command?” 

“Command is the organization that employs me.”

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

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

“H-Harm?” Jake chokes on his words. 

“By any means necessary.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why me?” 

You speak above a whisper.

“Because I was taking too long.” 

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

It clicks for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This Heeseung person, is he close by?” 

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

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

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

“You saved Sunghoon’s,” Jay comments. 

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well we needed answers.” 

You let a tear fall. “I’m sorry.” 

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

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

“But you did.” 

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

“So you just…gave up that life?” 

“I suppose so.”

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

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

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

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

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

Jake sighs when he hears the bathroom door close. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if she’s lying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll need to eventually.” 

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

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

“Still.” 

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

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

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

Sunghoon huffs. “Trust. Sure.” 

“It seems like your best bet.” 

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

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

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

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

Jay and Jake share a look. 

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

“What do you mean?”

“We’re coming with you,” Jay says. 

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

“Y/N told us about this uprising,” Jay explains, “to take down Command and end this organization for good. I’d be a fool not to be part of it after knowing what they put you through.” 

“Our lives truly mean nothing if we ignore this and pretend people aren’t suffering,” says Jake. “Y/N can’t carry the burden alone.” 

He finally looks at you. “You’re going to take down Command?” 

“I’ll probably die trying, but yes. We can leave Korea but I can’t in good faith leave it here where more people die and suffer every single day.” 

“This person she knows is someone who’s all for the uprising too,” says Jake. “If your next logical step is to hide away in his warehouse until life becomes more quiet, I think we should go too.” 

“You can’t,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “You two have lives here, for God’s sake.” 

“None more than you did.” 

He looks at you. “Why are you encouraging them?” 

“I’m not,” you say. “But I know two ambitious people when I see them. If they’re willing to help me with my mission, I’d be stupid to turn them down.” 

“This is batshit. You can't just leave everything behind for me.” 

Jay smiles. “It’s what friends are for, right?” 

He knows there’s no use arguing when his friends are looking at him like they’ve already made up their minds. Sunghoon averts his eyes to see you with your arm slung on the table and then back to his friends, and sighs. 

“Welcome to the team. Let’s pray we don’t die.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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[mqriuss]

A Gift

from 'us, always' collection

。。。The year is 2080 and it's Rindou's birthday. No one knows besides the bartender who gave him a birthday discount after a long day of work. He thinks it's better this way, but a surprise awaits him at home.

contents: rindou x fem!reader, cyberpunk setting, rindou uses a gun (no one gets shot)

divider by cafekitsune

note: how do we feel about this chat :'D this is word vomit but i do have more ideas for this so 👀

— 20 October, 2080

Rindou stepped into his apartment, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to him. He locked the door behind him and with a sigh, rolled his shoulders—ready to crash on the couch.

A soft chime rang through the dimly lit apartment. The holo-screen on his table flickered to life, sensing his presence near it. A voice message from his regular client, Renji.

"Rindou, my man! Happy birthday—don’t ask how I know. If I had known earlier, I would’ve commissioned someone else today. You do good work, man. I just sent you a tip. Oh, and I left you a gift at your apartment. Have fun with her!”

His eyes narrowed. What the hell?

His gaze averted to the corner of his living room—a white, circular platform, and a cable running along its base. That wasn't there before. What's more is that nothing was on it. He stiffened and his jaw tightened. Did he actually enter his apartment?

Cautiously, he stepped closer. His metal fingers clanking on his left side, ready to draw his weapon if needed.

"Welcome home!"

A voice, warm and melodic, breaks his focus. Rindou moved on instinct. His cybernetic arm whirred as a hidden gun emerged from his palm, his other hand steadying the barrel. He turned sharply, eyes locked onto the source of the voice.

You.

A girl stood in front of him, frozen in place. No further movements that showed she was a threat. Just wide eyes staring back at him.

The neon lights from the city outside the window illuminated your figure. Something about the way your skin looked under the light seemed odd. An Aptroid, he concluded.

The gun in Rindou's hand soon lowered, and his grip faltered. Uncertainty flickered in his purple gaze as he heaved deep exhales.

He took heavy steps towards you and grabbed you by the chin, eliciting a gasp from you. Catching a glimpse of your eyes, he sees fear but ignores it.

"Open your mouth and lift your tongue," he demanded lowly, yanking slightly at your jaw and you made a sound in confusion. "I said lift your tongue!" he repeated with a slight growl in his voice.

He forced your jaw open and you did as told. Your furrowed eyebrows tensed further when Rindou fished out a flashlight from his pocket, turned it on, and projected the light into your mouth.

Ten numbers, a code every Aptroid has. He didn't bother to memorize your code, only needing confirmation of what you were. He clicked the flashlight off, shoving it back into the pocket of his pants.

He spared you no more looks, making his way to the living room table where the holo-screen appeared in front of him. Tapping on it a few times, there was a ringing sound before a holographic figure of Renji was projected into the room.

"Hey, Rindou! No need to thank me for her," Renji waved him off with a smug expression.

Rindou scoffed, almost wishing he could point the gun towards Renji's hologram. "You have two minutes to explain or I'll assume you're using her to spy on me."

Renji's eyebrows shot upwards, looking at him then at you—standing in the corner like a kid on timeout. He laughs, and he laughs hard. "You really think I'd do that after all the times you've helped me? C'mon, man, that's cruel."

Rindou's glare intensified at the lack of explanation. "You sent a damn Aptroid to my apartment without telling me! Either you're stupid, or you're watching me through her eyes."

"She's not a spy, dumbass," Renji rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Her model's not for combat and she's yours. Disconnected from her manufacturer's network, no tracking, no data feeds, nothing. Custom settings, too. Wasn't sure what kind of personality you'd like, so I kept her on default. If you ever wanna change that, put her on that platform."

Rindou glanced your way, and he almost felt bad seeing how lost you seemed. Almost. The amount of emotion you showed was nearly laughable considering what you were.

"About time I changed my lock to a password," he muttered to himself and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, you work too much," Renji says. "Thought you could use a little company."

Rindou gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes in annoyance. "I don't need com-"

"Then get rid of her," Renji interrupted him. "But just saying, I paid a lot for this. You could at least try and see what she can do first."

His scowl deepened every time he looked Renji's way. The latter winked, making him roll his eyes. "Hope your birthday's more eventful this time around. Don't say I never did anything for ya." The call ended with that, and Renji's hologram flickered out.

Then there was silence.

The gun he held retracted back into his cybernetic arm. He sighed for the nth time that day before finally looking at you again. You stood there useless, but waiting—like for some kind of command.

"…You got a name?" He asked, his voice rough.

Your eyes lit up a little at that. "LIV," you said and Rindou pursed his lips.

"That's your brand's name," he replied under his breath, hands on his hips as he took a few steps to look out the window.

"You're right. I wasn't personally named," you corrected yourself, getting quieter.

"Figures." His eyebrows twitched upwards, watching the countless ads that played outside until he saw yours.

LIV — because Love should never be complicated.

[in-daddy-price-we-trust]

All I Wanted - Part 2

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 3

AN: Here it is! The Long awaited part two !!

Hope you enjoy this just as much as part one !!

Price POV

This was not what they needed right now. When 141 first heard of a potential weapons trade for El Sin Nombre going down in Amsterdam, they couldn't wait to get on the field.

The suspense was killing them as they waited for the right moment. They knew at this point that trying to stop the deal would be more hassle than worth. So the plan of waiting for their food to come to them was a better solution.

Price stalled however when he saw her step out. No way this was who they were after. No one in a cartel would go about wearing over-pink clothes. It was stupid. Even more so when she started shooting back, with a pistol as well.

"Ghost, move in," the static of the radio crackled before a grumbled copy sounded back. Price watched as Ghost snuck up behind her, his feet silent as he kicked her knees in and knocked her out.

"Well done Ghosty," The Scotsman, Soap, cheered over the comms, making his way down to the evac truck they scheduled.

She sat in-between him and Ghost. "No way she's with Nombre," Gaz announced after a few minutes of silence, "She's a child!" A hum left Soap's throat. 

"That's why we integrate her, Nombre or not, we can still use her to our advantage," Price concluded, sending the group back into quiet before she awoke.

-

Gaz was right. She was a child, barely reaching 16. Guilt hung heavy in his heart as he thought back to her crying. Cheeks red with tears and eyes puffy. 

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering a 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at the discovery. Eyes flicked across the room, every single soldier in that room seemed to suffocate in the amount of tension.

With a heavy sigh, Price spoke again. "How about we make a deal?" her head shot up at the words, a mix of emotions slathered across her features. From here he could tell she was picking apart his words.

"You, stay with us and get a place to stay," Price's eyes drifted to his team behind her.

"But - you have to help us catch our guy," The words cemented in her brain, slowly nodding along to them. It couldn't be worse to what she was used to, can it? Worse case scenario, she runs away again.

"Okay," it was final, "But I need to get my gear first."

-

The drive was quiet. The radio played some random pop song that she muttered the lyrics too, fingers drumming on her thighs. 

The boys seemed glad she accepted the deal. Although it may be the fact she was a minor and by the sounds of it, partaking in crime activity. Of course, this wouldn't be as different but at least all expenses were paid for by the government.

The car lulled to a stop, pulling up in front of the hotel. The door slammed shut before Price even registered her unclicking her seat belt leaving him to race after her.

A smile graced her lips as she greeted the lady at the front desk, who then proceeded to side eye Price. He would too if he saw a teenager going up to a hotel room with a 40-something-year-old man.

The pair continued to be silent in each other's presence, even when her fingers slipped together pressing and pulling on each one as a sort of fidget. The lift dinged at the second floor, Price hot on her heels to the hotel room. She muttered the number continuously under her breath, 105. 

Number splayed in gold, she struggles to get the keycard from wherever she managed to store the thing, like seriously, where did she put things? 

The door pushed open to the room. The white linen sheets still a mess from when she woke up this morning. What caught his eye was the absurdly bright duffle bag that sat on the middle of the hardwood floors, from where he stood he could make out the top of a pink sniper. 

'Jesus the girl knew how to stick to a theme, that's for sure..'

Diligently she picked up the weapons she managed to slide into nooks and crannies. Picking up stray plushies along the way. Price tried to help, but whenever he tried to pick up a cuddly brown bear he'd get holes burnt unto his head. So he eventually dropped it, opting to stand near the door.

Before long she came up to him, bag over her shoulder and a determined look in her eyes. The trip back to reception was awkward. The same tense atmosphere seemed to follow like a shadow. The lift dinged again, the robotic voice announcing their arrival.

She marched over to the receptionist, explaining she was checking out early (even though there was still two weeks left) and saying if anyone needed it to let them have the room for free. The soft spoken words melted the workers heart, promising to do as told.

-

Your POV

Price was awkward. Maybe the commanding aura around him clashed with yours of innocence. But - you both knew yours was fake. To some extent at least.

"Why did you make a deal? - with me?" It was a genuine question. The want of appreciation and validation flooding through your veins.

His eyes flicked down to you, noticing you already looking him in the face. He huffed a laugh at it. Soft, warm. "Well - I'm not just going to toss a kid out on the street, am I?" It was the truth. Voice of honey and liquid gold washing over you. Clouding your brain.

"Thank you, Price."

-

"Doll, wake up for me yeah?" a hum fell past your lips as you stirred awake, rubbing your eyes.

"Are we back already?" voice hoarse and scratchy, a yawn coming from you mid sentence.

Price chuckled at you. 'Glad someone finds this amusing.' 

"C'mon love - I'll show you to your new room and you can have a kip in there, kay?" His voice was soft, almost like the words would make you shatter and crumble like glass. Though it worked, pushing you out of the passenger seat of the car and onto the (now) familiar gravel plaza. Pink mary janes dragged behind you, sleep seeping into your bones.

That was soon rushed out of you when Mohawk appeared in front of you and Price. "Hi lassie, names Sargent John Mactavish but Soap is fine!" He beamed, pearly whites flashing down as you appeared wide eyed at him, stunned at the sudden (and quite frankly, loud) appearance. He threw a hand over his shoulder, pointing at the other figure you completely missed, "And that's Gaz." It was the shorty of the group, giving you a sheepish wave and a sympathetic smile at the loud Scot.

Price placed a hand on your shoulder, a slight apology maybe? You found yourself staring up at him before speaking, "Uhm.. thank- thank you Soap-?" cursing yourself for stumbling over your words. The nicknames getting caught on your tongue at its strangeness. "What kind of name is 'Soap' anyways?" He laughed at that, full belly laughed. Sort of high like a bell, although pleasant.

"M' Afraid I can't tell ya that, confidential," It was spoken with a wicked grin plastered across his face. The smile contagious and making the pink bands of your braces show. "Why don't Gaz and I show you to your new room?" A glance to Price and his nudge of the head allowed you to accept the offer, Soap instantly grabbing the bag from off your shoulder and pulling you along, going on to ramble about his hometown in Scotland.

-

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