#but I am always worried they’re going to fall off

[vindicated-truth]

“Noona!”

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor fills the eerily quiet corridor of the hospital as Jihoon skids to a halt in front of his sister.

He takes one look at the somber faces looking up at him, and immediately feels his body break out in a cold sweat as his stomach plummets. “Noona…?”

He hears how his own voice sounds small and shaky—not unlike the time when he was just a kid and he had just found out that he would be living with his big sister now as his legal guardian.

“He’s currently undergoing surgery,” Jihwa answers Jihoon’s unspoken question as she runs a hand distractedly through her hair, and Jihoon’s heart twists at how exhausted his sister sounds, not unlike all those nights she’d come home late from pulling double shifts to support them both because their mother had a new family.

The relief that instantly courses through Jihoon makes his body sag weakly as he falls onto the nearest seat, followed by the immediate dread that they’re not out of the woods just yet. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” Hyeok speaks up from beside him, and Jihoon can’t help but marvel at how calm the prosecutor sounds. Lawyers’ nerves must be made of steel, Jihoon muses.

He furrows his brows as the words sink in. “But…” Jihoon says slowly, “he always drives safely.”

“Yes. He does.” This time, Jihoon can detect the grim bitterness of Hyeok’s tone. “He wasn’t the problem.”

The seat across the hallway creaks as Jihwa flops down on it with a heavy sigh. “Drunk truck driver beating the red light crashed onto him at a crossroad. The other driver is also currently undergoing surgery at another operating room, and Dosoo-ya is conferring with the medical team there regarding the DUI case.”

“DUI…”

Jihoon trails off as his gaze finally lands on the lone man slumped over at the other end of the corridor. The fluorescent light directly above is flickering, casting the despondent figure in shadow.

“Dongsik-hyung…” Jihoon trembles. “Why are you here?”

He feels both Hyeok’s and Jihwa’s gazes turn to him in silent, outraged disbelief, and Jihoon swifty shakes his head.

“Why are you here—” Jihoon whispers as he gestures at the bleak corridor they’re all stuck in, “—and not in there with Joowon-hyung?”

He feels a hand on his knee, and his gaze snaps to his sister, who has reached across the hallway to touch him tenderly.

“Inspector Han is in critical care,” Jihwa tells him softly. “Strictly family only.”

Jihoon opens his mouth.

“And to answer your question, Jihoon-ah…”

The words die on Jihoon’s lips as Dongsik finally raises his head to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

Dongsik has never looked so—lifeless, like this.

Not since Yuyeon was finally cremated.

“According to the law, I am not family.”

A thunk beside Jihoon makes him jump, and he looks over to see the back of Hyeok’s head hitting the wall as Hyeok stares balefully at the ceiling, chuckling bitterly.

“And neither am I.”

—

The beeping pattern that has lulled her into a fitful sleep suddenly changes, and the sound breaks through the haze of her semi-consciousness.

Blearily, Jaeyi uncurls herself from the tiny sofa bed to peer at the monitors—and then at the patient to whom all of it is attached.

The drowsiness instantly disappears. “Inspector Han!” she gasps as she throws away the blanket draped over her legs and sways a bit on her feet from the dizziness of standing up too quickly. “You’re awake!”

Her instinct to go to him is immediately overridden by the memory of the nurses’ strict reminder to contact them as soon as the patient regains consciousness, and Jaeyi quickly reaches for the call button.

The fingers that curl around her wrist are weak, but insistent.

“Wait,” Joowon rasps, voice hoarse from being previously intubated during surgery. “Not yet.”

The herculean effort to speak seems to already drain so much out of Joowon that it makes Jaeyi relent. Instead, she pulls out a chair to sit close by his bedside. “How are you feeling?” she gently inquires, trying her best to mask her worry.

Joowon lolls his head to the side to look at her with a swollen face full of bruises and stitches, and manages to offer a small smile. “Like I was just crushed by a giant truck.”

Jaeyi smiles back tremblingly despite herself. “Your doctors don’t have to worry about psychological damage to your brain, considering your sense of humor remains the same.”

“Hilarious?”

“Non-existent.”

A soft gust of breath escapes Joowon’s lips before the laughter is quickly smothered by a grimace of pain. Jaeyi bites her lip anxiously. “Should I be calling the nurses now?”

“No,” Joowon repeats firmly, and Jaeyi is a little taken aback at how vehement he sounds. Joowon must have registered her surprise because he then quietly, shamefully confesses: “I don’t like being around medical professionals.”

Jaeyi’s eyebrows rise dubiously, but she holds her tongue, respectfully—smartly—waiting.

Eventually, Joowon takes a deep breath and, as if the admission pains him, closes his eyes as he explains:

“They were often at our house when I was a child. Their presence meant my mother has once again attempted to kill herself.”

Jaeyi doesn’t know if Joowon is keeping his eyes firmly shut for his benefit, or for hers. Either way, she is immensely grateful for it, because Joowon doesn’t need to see the cold waves of shock, rage, shared grief and unwanted pity that slams over her in quick succession, the vicious intensity knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Right now, Joowon needs her to be strong—so she will be.

“Would you like me to call someone else then?” she instead gently suggests. “Prosecutor Kwon has been waiting to hear from you.”

She pauses, letting the weight of her next words hold meaning as she softly adds: “And so is ahjussi.”

Joowon’s eyes flutter open.

And it takes Jaeyi’s breath away, the way Joowon’s entire countenance changes. His features soften, brows crinkling with concern, as he once again turns to her and worriedly asks:

“Has he eaten?”

And it says so much about how far Joowon has come in opening up his heart, because he now completely understands—and fluently speaks—the love language of Lee Dongsik.

She swallows against the lump that suddenly forms in her throat—and lies.

“Yes.”

—

“Ahjussi...”

“Jaeyi-ya? Why are you crying?”

“Ahjussi… I’m on my way to the hospital right now… please… you have to come…”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s—It’s Inspector Han.”

“… What? You—how—”

“I don’t know why, ahjussi, and I found out just now when the hospital called my number unexpectedly, but—Inspector Han listed me as his emergency contact.”

—

Not for the first time, Hyeok wonders how he somehow always finds himself sharing a table with all of these strange people.

It hasn’t been that long ago when they were all mere strangers to him—just another list of names in his ever-growing pile of case files.

Now, however…

Jaeyi arrives with a tray laden with so much food that it makes Hyeok’s eyes widen at how heavy it all looks. He scrambles to his feet and tries to help, but Jaeyi merely shoos him away, leaving him standing there awkwardly as she begins doling out the soup bowls.

“I can’t keep lying to Inspector Han,” Jaeyi proclaims resolutely, “so you all better eat.”

Dosoo peers at the huge serving bowl Jaeyi is ladling from. “Your budae jjigae looks much more appetizing than this, Jaeyi-ah.” He wrinkles his nose. “Smells much better too.”

“And no doubt tastes better too,” Jaeyi smoothly adds, which makes everyone at the table crack a smile for the first time in a long while. “But this is all the hospital cafeteria has to offer, and we have to eat this in honor of Inspector Han.”

Hyeok blinks. In honor of—

“It’s Joowon-hyung’s favorite,” Jihoon says softly when he sees Hyeok’s visible confusion. His voice is a little warbled, his eyes still red and puffy, shoulders trembling as he tries to stifle his silent sobs.

Tightly cradled in Jihoon’s hands is a letter envelope he’s clutching preciously close to his heart.

The sound of stainless steel scraping over wood pulls Hyeok’s attention, and he finds himself staring at a bowl of steaming budae jjigae that has been pushed towards him.

He looks up—and Dongsik smiles warmly at him.

“Eat, Prosecutor Kwon. Joowon-ie would have all of our heads if he finds out we’ve been starving you.”

No, he wouldn’t. He never used to care about whether or not I eat.

The bitter thought comes to him unbidden, and the sting of it makes his throat tighten.

He slowly returns to his seat as everyone at the table digs in, hunger finally overtaking worry and fatigue as the need to replenish their energy makes itself known if they are to continue their vigil.

It’s going to be a long night ahead for all of them.

Hyeok stares at the bowl in front of him as he cycles through his haphazard thoughts, desperately trying to reconcile what everyone else is telling him with what he knows.

Han Joowon hates any food with broth. He hates Korean food. He hates anything that has to do with Korea, because he has always hated coming back here.

Because all of it reminded him of his father.

When did all of that change? Do I even know him at this point?

Who even am I to Han Joowon?

“Don’t take it against him.”

Hyeok nearly leaps out of his skin—since when does Lee Dongsik have the power to read minds?

There’s a knowing glint in the other man’s eyes as Dongsik smirks at him.  “And don’t take it against her either,” Dongsik adds as he juts his chin towards Jaeyi, who looks startled at being singled out. “You know why Joowon-ie couldn’t have made you his emergency contact, Prosecutor Kwon.”

No, he thinks sourly, I don’t.

The table falls silent as Dongsik continues to slurp and chew with gusto, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. Unable to take it anymore, Jihwa lets out an exasperated sigh and Dongsik jumps beside her.

Hyeok’s mouth quirks despite himself; Jihwa appears to have kicked Dongsik under the table.

“What?” Dongsik grumbles as Jihwa tilts her head meaningfully towards Hyeok. “He knows he once worked for Han Kihwan, that’s why Joowon-ie is publicly distancing himself from Prosecutor Kwon.”

Chills run down Hyeok’s spine. Whatever he’s been expecting, it isn’t this.

Slapping him across the face would have hurt far less.

“Ahjussi,” Jaeyi says softly. “You should word that better.”

Dongsik looks up from his bowl and finally realizes all eyes are on him. He swallows the mouthful he’s been chewing and eventually fixates his gaze on Hyeok.

Beneath the table, Hyeok’s tightly balled fists are shaking.

Dongsik puts his chopsticks down.

“Emergency contact records are private data that can only be accessed in crises situations by healthcare providers or by authorized representatives. And that includes family.”

Dongsik pauses to let the weight of his next words sink in.

“Han Joowon’s actual family.”

Dongsik spits the word out like vile poison—and the realization slams upon Hyeok.

“The public records of you consistently meeting with Han Kihwan were plenty. Aside from the official logs at his office and the traceable calls and messages on both your phones, there were a significant number of CCTV cameras proving you had been meeting with him even well beyond office doors and office hours. You had even been spotted several times at the Han residence.”

Hyeok’s blood runs cold—because he suddenly, truly understands.

He does know Han Joowon. Far, far too well.

“Han Kihwan is currently undergoing appeals to lighten his sentence,” Dongsik is saying. “And one of the ways he can do that—“

“—is if he can prove he has an accomplice,” Hyeok finishes quietly.

Their table has become a silent, unwitting audience to the tense stalemate between them. The rigid set of Dongsik’s shoulders suddenly sags, and Hyeok knows, with a pang in his chest, that the hell on earth brought upon by Han Kihwan is still burning.

And at the center of the pyre—are Han Joowon and Lee Dongsik.

“Han Kihwan knows he can’t beat you, Prosecutor Kwon.” Hyeok’s gaze is arrested by the way Dongsik reaches for his water glass and lets out a humorless chuckle. “Nor can he defeat the son that you raised. He knows far too well that you are both far too smart for him. So instead, he’ll do the next best thing.”

Dongsik takes a swig from the glass, wipes his mouth with back of his hand, and slams the glass back down on the table, spilling water everywhere.

“Han Kihwan is going to bring you down with him, Prosecutor Kwon.”

There’s a reason, Hyeok abruptly realizes with terrified awe, why Lee Dongsik is Han Joowon’s chosen partner. Why Lee Dongsik has never feared the pyre Han Kihwan has lit.

“And Han Joowon will never let that happen.”

Those are the eyes of a lunatic who will follow Han Joowon straight into hell.

—

“Can I see him?”

“Name, please?”

“Lee Dongsik.”

“Relation to the patient?”

“I’m his partner.”

“… Han Joowon-nim’s business partner?”

“His partner. He’s listed as my dependent on my medical insurance.”

“… I’m sorry Lee Dongsik-nim, but unless you’re listed as Han Joowon-nim’s emergency contact, the hospital cannot let you inside critical care because the NHIS doesn’t recognize your claim.”

“The fuck am I letting you stop me from—”

“It’s alright, nurse, I’ll take it from here.”

“Get your hands off me, Prosecutor Kwon! I have every right to—!”

“She’s right, Lee Dongsik-ssi. According to the law, you are not Joowon’s family.”

—

Gwangyoung pulls a grimace as soon as he takes a sip from the styrofoam cup. “Coffee from vending machines always tastes terrible.”

Ohsub rolls his eyes. “Seoul has made you even more pretentious, Senior Inspector Hwang.”

“Caffeine is still caffeine,” Dosoo says tiredly as he drinks from his own cup. “God knows we all need it right now.”

Jihwa silently agrees as she feels the night’s exhaustion seeping through her bones. She turns to Seonnyeo and musters up the strength to offer her a small smile. “How’s Huimangie?”

“I dropped her off at my parents’ place before coming here.” Seonnyeo returns the smile, and once again Jihwa marvels at the calm and comfort Seonnyeo radiates; there’s no one else more suited to motherhood. “Dosoo-ya will pick her up tomorrow since his shift at work is later than mine.”

Jihwa’s features soften. “You didn’t need to come tonight.”

Seonnyeo’s own gaze is kind but firm. “I wanted to.”

“And we needed her expertise,” Dosoo pipes up, a note of pride in his voice as he beams at his wife.

“So,” Ohsub leans forward in his seat, and all the police officers gathered around the hospital vending machine instantly snap to attention. “What do we know so far?”

Seonnyeo flips through the case file in her hand and begins to explain. “According to the records of the company he’s working for, the truck driver had been going through his usual route at his usual delivery time, so there was nothing out of the ordinary in his routine tonight.”

“Except for the fact that his medical records reveal that his blood alcohol concentration was at 0.306% at the time of the collision,” Dosoo remarks dryly.

Gwangyoung whistles lowly. “That’s the highest ever recorded number for a DUI case in history. Even if he survives tonight’s surgery—”

“Gwangyoung-ah,” Jihwa warns.

“I’m just saying,” Gwangyoung raises his hands in appeasement. “After he recovers, he’ll definitely be going to jail.”

“There’s something strange about the truck driver though,” Seonnyeo murmurs, lost in thought as she peruses the case file; Jihwa has to prompt her gently with a hand on her arm to encourage her to share her theories.

“A BAC of 0.250 to 0.399% is a dangerously high level of intoxication. It can already cause alcohol poisoning and even loss of consciousness.”

She turns to her husband. “We’re going to need to access the truck’s dashboard camera to be sure, but with this level of BAC, it’s entirely possible that the driver actually fell asleep at the wheel.”

“Which explains why he didn’t stop at the red light,” Dosoo affirms.

“Doesn’t really help his case,” Gwangyoung mutters, “although the defense can lobby that at least he didn’t purposely beat the red light.”

Seonnyeo bites her lip.

Ohsub sees her obvious hesitance and sighs. “Just say it, Officer Im.”

Instead, Seonnyeo turns to Jihwa and wordlessly hands over the case file to her.

Jihwa skims through the company records. “The truck driver has been consistent in his routine,” she comments. “No previous records of any road violations whatsoever.”

“Exactly,” Seonnyeo’s relief shows on her face when Jihwa confirms her observations. “If he knew he had a delivery route to go through tonight, why would he purposely get himself drunk before his shift?”

“Not just simply drunk,” Dosoo grumbles. “It’s like he ingested a whole liquor store with that amount of alcohol in his system.”

“It’s almost suicidal.”

Everyone turns to Jihwa at her somber words.

“But if he wanted to kill himself,” she says quietly as she sees the alarming BAC numbers for herself, “why would he go through such a roundabout way of doing it…”

She looks up and catches Ohsub’s penetrating gaze.

“… through crashing into another vehicle?”

Ohsub’s eyes narrow. “Inspector Oh—are you suggesting foul play?”

Jihwa shakes her head slowly. “There’s not enough evidence.” Not yet. “But if it is, then…”

She turns to her partner, and it’s a testament to how long and how well they work together that Dosoo’s face immediately clears as the realization hits him at the same time.

“… it falls to our jurisdiction,” Jihwa concludes quietly.

A tense silence abruptly settles in the air.

“A case for the Violent Crimes Unit,” Dosoo confirms grimly, “for attempted murder.”

—

“Remember that highly controversial case that no one else is taking?”

“… You’re seriously calling me in the middle of the night to talk about this?”

“I’m taking it.”

“Why—you—first of all, they can’t afford you.”

“I’m taking it pro bono.”

“You’re—Prosecutor Kwon, you do realize what this will mean for your career?”

“Yes. I absolutely do.”

“This is career suicide.”

“Good. I’m ready to be reborn.”

“… What are you saying?”

“Tell the client I’m ready to meet them.”

“It’s the middle of the god damned night!”

“Wake them.”

—

Jaeyi blinks when she returns to the table she has just cleared and sees it devoid of its previous occupants—save for one.

“Where did everyone go?”

“Prosecutor Kwon went outside to take a business call.” Jihwa runs a hand through her hair distractedly as she offers Jaeyi a reassuring smile. “I think I saw Dongsik-ie following him.”

She steps closer as Jaeyi takes some paper towels and begins wiping down the table, much to Jihwa’s amusement; Jaeyi doesn’t really have to since this isn’t her restaurant, but Jihwa supposes habits are hard to break, and Jaeyi will always have a butcher shop owner’s penchant for sanitation.

“Everyone else hurried to Inspector Han’s room,” Jihwa adds as she takes a paper towel for herself and starts to help. “They were all way too excited to learn that Inspector Han is finally going to be relocated from critical care to general medical care and can now receive visitors.”

It makes Jaeyi crack a smile. “I can imagine Inspector Han may be annoyed enough to actually speed up his recovery just so he won’t have to deal with any more of their well-meaning nagging.”

Jihwa chuckles. “Well, if there’s anyone who can achieve the impossible, it’s Han Joowon.”

Her remark is only met with silence, prompting her to look up. She stops, tilts her head thoughtfully, and softly asks:

“You know why it’s you, don’t you?”

Jaeyi pauses. Her bun has become loose and her bangs are falling in front of her eyes, making it easy for Jaeyi to deliberately avoid Jihwa’s searching gaze.

“Of course I do. I was the only logical choice left.”

Jihwa raises her eyebrows when Jaeyi starts rubbing at a non-existent stain on the table with much more vigor than is necessary. “We all know it should have been Prosecutor Kwon or Dongsik-ahjussi, but Han Kihwan remains to be a fucking bastard even from behind bars,” Jaeyi bites out.

Jihwa’s mouth quirks; Jaeyi will find no disagreement with her there.

“But I also understand,” Jaeyi says quietly, “why it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

She stops and leans heavily with the heel of her palms on the table.

“It should’ve been you too, eonnie, but you and Jihoon-ie have to look out for each other too, and you’re already each other’s emergency contact. Everyone else is either affianced, married, has kids, or—”

The next words catch in Jaeyi’s throat. She takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Or has parents to take care of.”

There’s a profound sadness and resignation in Jaeyi’s eyes when she finally looks up to meet Jihwa’s gaze.

“So I understand why Inspector Han chose me, out of everyone. It couldn’t have been anyone else other than the only one of us who has no family left to lose.”

Just like him is left unsaid, but heavily understood.

There’s a soft intake of breath when Jihwa places her hand over Jaeyi’s, gentling the tightness of her fingers by threading theirs together.

“Inspector Han chose you,” Jihwa says softly, “because he knew without a doubt that it’s Dongsik-ie you would call first.”

Jihwa reaches out to tuck stray wisps of Jaeyi’s hair behind her ear, revealing Jaeyi’s beautiful eyes, shimmering with the tears she’s desperately trying to hold back.

“He also knew that you would not make any important medical decisions without consulting with Prosecutor Kwon first.”

Tenderly, she caresses Jaeyi’s cheek with the back of her hand; her fingers feel cold and wet as Jaeyi closes her eyes and the tears begin to fall from beneath those long lashes.

“And Inspector Han knew that just like you always have, you’d find a way to gather all of us here together—for him.”

Jihwa is ready for it, her arms already open to catch Jaeyi as she finally collapses against Jihwa, her whole frame shaking with broken sobs, the weight of everything she’s been carrying since receiving the call from the hospital finally crashing down on her.

Jihwa gathers her close; Jaeyi tightens her arms around Jihwa’s waist and buries her face in Jihwa’s neck to hide her tears.

“Uri Jaeyi. Han Jowoon chose you because you are our home. Because even someone like Han Joowon knows…”

Jihwa presses her mouth against Jaeyi’s hair and murmurs:

“Home is where he will always find his family.”

—

“Prosecutor Kwon.”

Hyeok stiffens at the all too familiar voice behind him. “I have to go,” he mutters quickly and ends the call.

He pockets his mobile phone, takes a deep breath, and turns around.

The lone, imposing figure at the top of the stairs is watching him, silhouette backlighted by the harsh, bluish-gray lights coming from the hospital doors from which he has just exited.

Hyeok swallows. “There’s—somewhere I need to be.”

Dongsik considers him for a long moment. “I know for a fact that you’re not going home,” he finally says quietly. “What’s so important that you need to leave in the middle of the night?”

“Work.”

Hyeok determinedly holds Dongsik’s gaze. He isn’t lying.

“I see.”

Dongsik makes his way slowly down the stairs of the hospital entrance and stops right in front Hyeok.

And it takes Hyeok’s breath away when Dongsik’s entire countenance changes at his next words—as if the weight of the world has finally been lifted from his shoulders as he regards Hyeok with a gentle smile.

“Uri Joowon-ie is finally transferred to general medical care,” Dongsik tells him softly. “He’s asking for you.”

The unexpected revelation sends Hyeok reeling as he sways on his feet. “Good—that’s good,” he stammers. “Tell him—”

Tell him he’s an idiot, tell him he doesn’t need to protect me because that’s my job, because I’m the big brother even though he has never, ever accepted me as his , because it’s my job to give him everything he needs and this, this is the one thing I can do for him, so tell him—

“Tell him… I have work to do.”

Hyeok adamantly tries his best to not flinch under Dongsik’s penetrating, piercing gaze.

Please, he silently, desperately begs. Please let me do this.

“Okay,” Dongsik assents, much to Hyeok’s surprise. “But before you go, Jihoon-ie asked me to give you this.”

Hyeok watches as Dongsik reaches inside his own jacket pocket. He takes something out and hands it over to Hyeok.

He immediately recognizes what it is—and his throat tightens when he sees his own name written on it.

“Uri Joowon-ie made sure you have one, too.”

Dongsik smiles at him.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us, Prosecutor Kwon.”

—

“Please make sure to feed that idiot too.”

Jaeyi’s mouth quirks, knowing she doesn’t need to clarify who it is. “I promise to feed them all. I think I saw some budae jjigae at the hospital cafeteria earlier.”

She pauses, considering. “Does he even like budae jjigae?”

From his position lying prone on the hospital bed, Joowon lets out a snort. “That man has ostentatious tastes. He’d do well to humble himself and expand his horizons.”

Jaeyi clamps her mouth shut as she tries not to smile at the absolute irony of that statement coming from Han Joowon, of all people. “He really is the one who raised you.”

She grins when Joowon glares at her the best he can from beneath all those bandages. “Speaking of Prosecutor Kwon,” she adds, “he told me something interesting about you.”

“Dear god,” Joowon mutters.

Jaeyi laughs. “He actually talks very fondly of you, you know,” she reveals, smiling a little sadly at the way Joowon looks at her in disbelief. “He told me that you’re eligible for citizenship in England.”

Joowon’s gaze is contemplative as Jaeyi lets the weight of the implication settle between them. “Why are you bringing this up?” he quietly asks.

Jaeyi hesitates. “It’s legal there, isn’t it?” She bites her lip. “If you and ahjussi ever were to get married.”

It’s the way Joowon’s expression remains impassive and unsurprised that tells it all.

This is not the first time it has occurred to him.

“Ahjussi fought hard to be in here,” Jaeyi tells him softly, choosing not to expound on how Hyeok had to physically restrain Dongsik from charging through the doors of critical care. “He fought so hard for his right as your partner.”

“But according to the law, he is not my family.”

Jaeyi swallows at the way Joowon tonelessly repeats Hyeok’s earlier statement nearly word for word. “He can be.”

Joowon turns his head on the pillow to look straight into her eyes. She holds his gaze as the smile she gives him is bittersweet. “He can be your rightful family in England. That’s why I’m bringing it up.”

“I’m not going to do that to him.”

That is certainly not the fierce declaration Jaeyi expects. “What?”

The wires and tubes connected to his body all jangle at the heavy sigh Joowon heaves. “I’m not going to bring Lee Dongsik to England.”

Jaeyi furrows her brows. “Why not?”

The smile Joowon offers her with his wounded and bruised lips is gentle and warm. “Because Manyang butcher shop doesn’t exist there.”

It feels like Jaeyi has been stabbed straight through her heart.

“I love him.” Joowon’s no-nonsense statement is powerful in its simplicity and sincerity. “And it is my sole purpose in life to make him happy.”

Whatever doubts Jaeyi had in the past about Han Joowon being deserving of Lee Dongsik’s love and devotion is now completely obliterated in the wake of this vow.

Because Han Joowon isn’t just someone who will move heaven and earth for Lee Dongsik.

“I will never take Lee Dongsik away from his own family.”

For Lee Dongsik, Han Joowon will go through hell.

—

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Gwangyoung. “Attempted murder?”

“Wait.” Jihoon finally speaks up in disbelief at the direction of the discussion and the unwanted gravity of the implication. “Why are we even considering foul play?”

His sister then looks straight at her boss, who’s startled by her sharp gaze.

Ohsub clears his throat. “As you may all very well know, as police officers, we have the duty and responsibility to avoid speculation without hard evidence.”

Jihwa crosses her arms—and Jihoon recognizes that look immediately.

It’s the look of his big sister—the woman of the house—not letting anyone get away with any bullshit.

Ohsub purses his lips and finally relents.

“Ever since I’ve been promoted to Superintendent,” he begins hesitantly, “I’ve been rubbing elbows with a lot of higher ups in the force, and I’ve been privy to a lot of their conversations. Even the ones they never meant for me to hear.”

He turns to face Jihoon gravely. “They all hate Inspector Han.”

Jihoon frowns, instinctively defensive. “Joowon-hyung is not a bad cop.”

“Inspector Han is indeed a very, very good cop,” Dosoo easily agrees; Jihoon furrows his brows, noting the austerity of Dosoo’s tone in what’s supposed to be praise.

“Inspector Han follows the letter of the law and enacts justice on everyone without exception,” Seonnyeo says quietly. “Not even his own self. Not even the one person he loves beyond all measure.”

They fall silent at her words. Dosoo intertwines their fingers together in empathetic solidarity.

“Not even,” Jihwa adds quietly, “his own father.”

“Not even the wealthiest and most powerful cop in the country borne out of a law enforcement dynasty spanning four generations,” Ohsub clarifies morosely. “The Han family network is a systemic power that’s vast and deeply rooted in the force. It’s how they kept the power in the family for decades.”

Ohsub looks grimly at them.

“And Inspector Han just dismantled it all.”

Jihoon’s gaze is arrested by the way Jihwa leans her head back against the wall at her apprehensive words. “It’s always been an open secret that the Han family dynasty had steadily built and strengthened their influence within the Korean National Police Agency until the third of their generation finally reached the very top.”

“Only to be brought down by their own fourth generation.” Dosoo presses his lips together. “The best and smartest of them all.”

Jihoon swallows. “Han Joowon,” he whispers.

Ohsub sighs and rubs his eyebrows tiredly. “Han Kihwan had his dirty fingers dipped in a lot of pies and had plenty of cronies in the force, most of whom lost significant power after his arrest.”

“I bet they lost a hell of a lot of money too,” Gwangyoung mutters.

Ohsub inclines his head in agreement at the point. “Which means Inspector Han has an ever growing list of enemies, and all of them are in the police force.”

“And word on the grapevine is that they’re planning to take him out.”

Jihoon holds his breath at his sister’s words as she looks at him straight in the eye.

“Through whatever means necessary.”

Jihoon’s hands curl into fists as he turns back to Ohsub. “Hyung—Superintendent Kwak—can’t you report them?”

“For what? Talking smack about a coworker?” Ohsub snorts bitterly. “I can’t even record their conversations because it won’t hold up in any court, and I have no evidence of them actually acting on their threats.”

“Until now,” Seonnyeo interjects quietly. “We don’t have any evidence for the act just yet, nor do we have any leads for an actual suspect, but we certainly have plenty of motive for the attempted murder of Han Joowon.”

Finally putting it into actual words makes the declaration weigh heavily upon all of them.

“Wouldn’t his father protect him?”

Everyone turns to Jihoon at his despaired whisper. “Joowon-hyung is still his family.” He looks at them all desperately. “How much of a monster would Han Kihwan be to allow his own son to be killed?”

His throat tightens as his sister leans forward and lets her face fall into her hands.“In the recording Inspector Han submitted, Lee Changjin can be heard asking Han Kihwan if he’s willing to kill his own son.”

Jihoon watches as Jihwa slicks her hair back, lips pressed tight at the mention of her abominable ex-husband. “It’s corroborated by Lee Changjin’s own statement afterward, when he confessed.”

“And later on, after Han Kihwan’s arrest,” Dosoo adds somberly, “Dongsik-hyung and Inspector Han separately submitted their own statements about what really happened that night at the Han residence.”

“And their statements matched,” Ohsub affirms.

Jihoon swallows.

“Han Kihwan pointed a gun at his own son’s head,” Jihwa viciously reveals, a quiet rage simmering beneath the bitten out words. “A loaded gun. With the safety off.”

She screws her eyes shut as she fights to calm her breathing. “We don’t know if Han Kihwan is the one behind this attempted murder—”

“Allegedly,” Ohsub firmly interjects.

“—on Han Joowon’s life,” Jihwa finishes anyway. “What we do know for certain is that even if he isn’t, Han Kihwan is the kind of father who doesn’t care whether or not his son dies, if it means saving his own ass.”

The resounding silence is suffocating.

“Dongsik-hyung should know.”

The loud, bitter laughter Jihwa lets out at Jihoon’s quiet declaration startles everyone in their seats. “No. Dongsik-ie absolutely should not know. There’s a very good reason Inspector Han did not list him as his emergency contact.”

“Emergency contacts are accessible by police authorities during criminal investigations,” Ohsub explains grimly. “Killing Inspector Han is like killing two birds with one stone, because it opens up a case.”

Jihoon feels like he’s going insane at how he can actually follow the deranged train of thought. “And it allows cops access to private records, including that of Dongsik-hyung, if he’s listed as Joowon-hyung’s emergency contact.”

“Yes,” Ohsub affirms. “Because everyone in the force also knows that Inspector Han didn’t bring down Han Kihwan singlehandedly.”

“He had a partner,” Jihwa says quietly, “in Lee Dongsik.”

Jihoon stares at them, unwilling to accept what they’re all implying. “Are you saying that Dongsik-hyung needs to be protected?”

“No,” Ohsub says wryly, “the problem is precisely the opposite.”

“Lee Dongsik brought down the most powerful cop in the country and put an end to a family dynasty just to bring justice to Lee Yuyeon.” The look his sister gives Jihoon is tinged with a strange mixture of bittersweet sadness and fearful trepidation. “How far do you think Lee Dongsik is willing to go this time just to bring justice to Han Joowon?”

Jihoon inhales sharply.

“The whole world,” Jihwa quietly declares, “might as well burn.”

—

“The damn truck driver is alive?!”

“Currently in surgery as we speak. Apparently that bastard Han Joowon swerved just enough in time to avoid most of the impact.”

“Pests really are such a headache to exterminate.”

“What are we going to do if the driver talks?”

“What’s he gonna say? He can’t prove that we drugged him.”

“And Han Joowon? There are so many other ways to get rid of that pest, why are we doing it this way?”

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? The father had been brought down by a DUI. It’s poetic that we bring down the son in exactly the same way.”

—

“Doesn’t Joowon-hyung deserve that?”

Jihoon’s hands are tightly fisted on his lap as he looks up at his sister. “After having a father who won’t think twice about throwing his own son into hell, doesn’t Joowon-hyung deserve to have someone who will instead burn the world for him?”

Everyone falls silent at his breathless question. Jihwa tilts her head to one side, watching him thoughtfully.

“Yes,” she finally assents. “He does.”

Jihoon stares at the way his sister unexpectedly smiles.

“Just—not right now,” Jihwa comments dryly, “while Dongsik-ie is still under probation.”

Jihoon blinks.

Dosoo grins wryly, backing up his partner. “Dongsik-hyung can’t protect or fight alongside Inspector Han if he ends up in prison.”

Whatever Jihoon is about to say next dies on his lips as everyone’s attention is arrested when the doors to critical care suddenly swing open—

—and out walks Jaeyi.

Everyone scrambles to their feet in surprise, anxiously watching her amble towards them with unsteady steps; Jihoon notes how she has her arms wrapped tightly around herself, the tremors in her frame betraying how she’s fiercely trying to control her quiet sobs.

Jihoon feels the ground reeling beneath his feet, dreading the absolute worst. “Noona…?”

Slowly, Jaeyi raises her head, and Jihoon’s chest twists achingly at the sight of her: Jaeyi’s clothes are rumpled, her hair is disheveled, her eyes are haggard and red from crying—

And she’s staring straight at Jihoon.

“Inspector Han is awake. You’re the first person he’s asking to see.”

From his peripheral vision, Jihoon sees the way his sister sharply turns to him in undisguised alarm.

“Me?” Jihoon breathes, heart in his throat. “Why me?”

With shaking hands, Jaeyi reaches inside her jacket and takes out a letter envelope.

The smile she offers Jihoon is trembling.

“He wants you to have this.”

—

“Did you even calculate the route correctly?”

“The timing of the crash was supposed to be perfect. We even planted the road detours they were both forced to take and timed the traffic lights to malfunction at the precise intersection.”

“It should’ve been enough to indict the truck driver for beating the red light. He was supposed to be our scapegoat.”

“Except the idiot actually lost consciousness. The spiked alcohol in his system was way too potent.”

“Go through the crash site and get rid of the dashboard camera so it can’t be submitted as evidence.”

“We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t?”

“Someone got to the footage first.”

“Who the fuck would want that footage?”

“That meddlesome fool from Team One of Munju Police Station’s Violent Crimes Unit. Assistant Inspector Kang Dosoo.”

—

This is what a heart attack must feel like, Jaeyi thinks as she rushes forward in a panic, heart hammering violently against her ribs.

“Inspector Han!”

She shrieks, a hand firmly on Joowon’s bandaged chest to stop him from rising from the hospital bed; the insistent warning beeping of all the machines connected to his body isn’t helping her already jangled nerves. “Please let me call the nurses now.”

“Officer Oh,” Joowon says hoarsely instead, and it makes Jaeyi’s gaze snap up to him in surprise. “I need to find Officer Oh.”

Jaeyi furrows her brows. “… Jihoon-ie?” Tendrils of worry color her tone as a creeping sense of dread begins to overtake her at the completely unexpected name.

“Please,” Joowon whispers as he lies back on his bed, and it’s a testament to how utterly weak his current state is that he can’t even put up a physical fight against Jaeyi.

It makes her simultaneously ache for him and feel utterly enraged on his behalf.

“Please find him,” Joowon is begging her. “I need to give something to him.”

Jaeyi squeezes her eyes shut. Calm. Inspector Han needs you to be calm, damn it. “Okay,” she relents, “but only if you behave and stay still.”

He has the absolute audacity to smirk at her. “All right, mother.”

“I am not—!”

Jaeyi takes a deep lungful of breath and lets it out slowly as she runs her hands over her face. “Dear god, ahjussi really is the only one who can match your insanity,” Jaeyi mutters between her fingers.

Joowon blinks at her innocently.

Jaeyi scowls. “Fine. What is it that you need to give to Jihoon-ie?”

“It’s in my coat—”

“I just told you to stay still—”

Joowon seems to finally take pity on her—that, or the way she inadvertently pitches her tone incredibly high with worry really does sound like a mother scolding her wayward son. “Forgive me,” he murmurs, looking appropriately chastised. “I just—need to know it’s there.”

Jaeyi sighs, heart softening despite herself. “I think the nurses put away the clothes you were wearing—”

—when you almost died and we almost lost you—

“—when they found you. I’ll see if I can find your coat.”

Joowon is compliantly quiet and still as Jaeyi turns her back on him. She rummages through the pile of clothes she vaguely remembers that the nurses have set aside by the bedside drawers when they first wheeled in the hospital bed—with Han Joowon lying on it deathly still.

Jaeyi firmly presses her lips together and staunchly refuses to let her attention linger on the bloodstains still caked on the clothes, refusing to even think about how much blood Joowon has actually lost.

She inwardly vows to get rid of the stains before Dongsik finds them. She refuses to think about what will happen if he does.

Maybe she should just burn the clothes entirely, before Dongsik ends up burning something else.

“Yoo Jaeyi-ssi,” Joowon speaks up softly from behind her, pulling her wandering thoughts back to the task at hand.

She finds the coat at the bottom of the pile, the dark color thankfully camouflaging whatever bloodstains still managed to splatter on the outer piece of clothing.

“It’s inside the pocket,” Joowon murmurs. “You’ll find a letter envelope.”

Jaeyi begins patting down the coat and reaches inside the first pocket she finds.

She ends up pulling out Joowon’s wallet. It falls open just as she fully intends to put it aside.

Jaeyi stares.

She recognizes the background with how often she’s been at Okcheon lake. She recognizes that it’s summer too, with how clear the skies are and how glaringly bright the sun is shining, as well as the thin tank top worn for the heat.

It’s the way Lee Dongsik is looking back at her that takes her breath away.

His curls are caught in a frozen summer breeze—it’s obviously been a while since this photo has been taken, since Dongsik hasn’t had his haircut yet in this one. The sunshine from above highlights the fond glow of his eyes as he looks lovingly at the camera, the corners of his mouth softened by a tender smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who has taken the photo. There’s only one person in the entire world whom Dongsik ever looks at like this.

Like he’s looking at a piece of paradise—his deliverance and salvation all at once.

Like Lee Dongsik has finally been allowed inside the elusive gates of heaven.

“Did you find it?”

Jaeyi drops the wallet on the bedside table as if it scalds her. “I—no—a letter envelope right,” she stammers, feeling weirdly guilty about accidentally discovering what she knows for sure is meant to be kept private.

“Yes.” Joowon sounds amused. “It’s in the other pocket.”

“Right.” Jaeyi responds distractedly. Pull yourself together, she silently admonishes herself. “Here, I think I found it.”

Her fingers close upon the envelope and pulls it out.

Behind her, she hears Joowon draw a sharp intake of breath. “Can you check if it’s all there?”

Jaeyi blinks. Check what?

She opens the envelope—and is entirely taken aback to see all of their names printed on each one.

Han Joowon. Lee Dongsik. Oh Jihoon. Oh Jihwa. Yoo Jaeyi. Hwang Gwangyoung. Kang Dosoo. Im Seonnyeo. Kwak Ohsub.

Her eyebrows rise at the last name she finds.

Kwon Hyeok.

Slowly, Jaeyi turns around to face Joowon once more, the envelope carefully cradled in her hands.

She’s thoroughly nonplussed.

“Concert tickets?”

Joowon looks relieved. “Music festival tickets, to be precise,” he clarifies. “Officer Oh told me that he once promised to take her when he was still an idol trainee, because he wanted to perform for her at a music festival when he debuted. Unfortunately his idol career fell through, so he wasn’t able to fulfill his promise to her.”

Jaeyi’s brows crinkle in confusion. “Her…?”

“I figured the timing is now right,” Joowon murmurs, “considering the date of the festival.”

Jaeyi’s gaze falls back to the tickets. She takes one out—the one with her own name printed on it—and inspects it carefully.

Her knees suddenly wobble and she falls back to her seat as soon as she recognizes the date. Her hand flies to her mouth to silence the shocked cry that threatens to burst forth.

“It’s a celebration,” Joowon says softly, “of Kang Minjeong’s birthday.”

—

“ Kang Dosoo? No wonder he sounds familiar. That’s one of the names.”

“What names?”

“On the tickets Han Joowon bought from me.”

—

“Lee Dongsik.”

Hyeok feels the other man’s eyes on him as he carefully pockets the ticket close to his heart.

His hands are surprisingly steady.

“Find the fuckers who hurt our Joowon,” he whispers fiercely, “and leave the rest to me.”

The iron grip on his arm is unyielding when he turns to leave.

“Hyeok-ah,” Dongsik hisses through gritted teeth. “What the hell are you planning to do?”

Hyeok’s gaze travels from Dongsik’s hand all the way up to his eyes. Privately he notes that the fire burning in that gaze is flaring much in the same way as Joowon’s eyes once did when he implored Hyeok to cut off the rotten rope tying him to Han Kihwan.

It’s almost like looking into the eyes of another brother.

“I told you inside that hospital that according to the law, you are not Han Joowon’s family.”

It satisfies Hyeok immensely to see Dongsik looking so unsettled and taken aback at the slow, wolfish grin that creeps across Hyeok’s face.

After all, Lee Dongsik may be forgetting who actually raised Han Joowon.

“It’s time to change the law.”

—

Supreme Court recognizes rights of same-sex couples to receive spousal health insurance coverage

Korea's Supreme Court recognized new rights for same-sex couples Thursday, saying the state must provide health insurance for a gay man's partner in a landmark ruling that left activists weeping for joy.

"National Health Insurance should recognize spousal insurance coverage for same-sex couples," the court ruled, with activists breaking into cheers as the verdict was read out.

The verdict, which cannot be appealed as it comes from the country's highest court, means common-law spouses of the same sex can now register as dependents on their partners' health insurance.

"It is discrimination based on sexual orientation to exclude the couple just because they are same-sex," the court ruled.

"It is a discriminatory act that violates human dignity and values, the right to pursue happiness, freedom of privacy, and the right to be equal before the law, and the degree of infringement is serious."

—

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Text Message

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Common-law spouses?

What happened to hi, hello, good evening? Do old men like you really forget your manners as you age?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hi, hello, good evening Prosecutor Kwon. I’m also only six years older than you, you little shit. Common-law spouses?

De Facto Marriage in legal terms, yeah

My client sued the National Health Insurance Service because it terminated benefits for his partner after discovering they were a gay couple

The NHIS is legally required to grant spousal coverage benefits even to common-law partners, and both the Seoul High Court and the Supreme Court mandated that the NHIS reinstate my client’s dependent benefits

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I didn’t know De Facto Marriage in our country was also applicable to queer couples

It is now

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I see

JOOWON’S LUNATIC So how exactly can a De Facto Marriage be legally established under the law?

(i) Mutual intent to form a marital relationship

(ii) The existence of substance of marital life

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Can you possibly elaborate on that without all the legal mumbo jumbo?

You know, normally I charge clients for consultations like this

By the hour

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Eh, just put it on your brother’s tab

The court looks into various factors such as the duration of cohabitation, the existence of a marriage ceremony, and relationship with other family members

My client already had a public ceremony with his partner three years ago, which was attended by all of their friends and family, and they’ve also been living together since way before the wedding

JOOWON’S LUNATIC So you’re saying the relationship needs to be publicized as akin to an actual marriage

Yeah, basically

JOOWON’S LUNATIC I see

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hyeok-ah

For the love of god Lee Dongsik it is three in the fucking morning and I have a court hearing in five hours STOP BLOWING UP MY NOTIFICATIONS I NEED TO SLEEP

JOOWON’S LUNATIC How do you feel about officiating our wedding ceremony?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Are you there? Yah, did you actually fall asleep on me?

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwon

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Prosecutor Kwonnn

JOOWON’S LUNATIC Hyeok-ahhhhh

I’m putting all of this on your husband’s tab

Also

It’s about damn time

—

“What made you say yes?”

“Technically, he said yes.”

“It’s not a competition of who loves the other more, you know.”

“I certainly don’t want to lose.”

“So that’s why you asked him? The last time we talked, you were adamant about keeping your distance to protect him.”

“That was before I made the unforgivable mistake of failing to be by his side when he needed me the most because of a miscalculation I made last year.”

“You mean when you almost died.”

“Don’t be dramatic, I made a full recovery in record time, according to my physical therapists.”

“Again—not a competition, Inspector Han. So what made you decide to finally publicize your relationship?”

“The law changes everything.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? What Prosecutor Kwon did for you.”

“He charges me by the hour.”

“Well, you and Dongsik-ie will legally have joint finances soon, so I’m sure you’ll be able to afford Prosecutor Kwon’s rates.”

“Dongsik-ssi is actually not happy about that. He said he doesn’t want access to my finances, and while I understand that it’s because he also doesn’t want to have anything to do with my father’s dirty money, the fact remains that he of all people deserves to be paid reparations by Han Kihwan. Why are you grinning like that?”

“Only you, Inspector Han, will blackmail Lee Dongsik into becoming filthy rich through a De Facto Marriage because he won’t accept your money otherwise. You two lunatics truly deserve each other.”

“… I’m trying to ascertain whether that is a compliment or an insult.”

“So—joint finances, joint custody of properties. You’ll also now legally be the co-owner of the Okcheon lake residence. It’s all just a formality anyway, since you two have been living together there for years now.”

“How did you—”

“Jihoon-ie talks. A lot.”

“Finances and property aren’t my main concern anyway, because unlike legal marriages, common-law spouses aren’t automatically granted inheritance should one of us die.”

“Pretty sure neither of you are going to let that happen in the first place.”

“I’m certainly not gonna die before him.”

“Not really a competition Inspector Han, considering you’re thirteen years younger.”

“What I mean is that I simply won’t survive without him. Because I don’t want to.”

“That’s—Inspector Han—”

“And because common-law spouses are still legally mandated to uphold the same vows of fidelity, I am looking forward to him keeping his vow to spend the rest of his life with me.”

“You’re—blackmailing him to keep himself alive for you.”

“That is the gist of it, yes.”

“Huh. Well, whatever works to keep him safe, I guess.”

“It is a grave lesson that the unfortunate situation last year—“

“You almost dying—”

“—has irrevocably taught me. It is better to protect him by keeping him close instead of keeping him at a distance.”

“And the privilege extended to common-law spouses in legally refusing to testify against each other has absolutely no bearing on your decision to ask for Dongsik-ie’s hand in marriage? Publicizing your relationship like this makes you even more of a target.”

“From what’s left of my father’s fallen network?”

“No, I don’t think Han Kihwan’s men will be a problem anymore. I’m more concerned about the homophobic vultures inevitably swarming you both because of your soon to be public marriage.”

“De Facto Marriage. The spousal privilege is not automatically granted in the same way as legal marriages, because every protection and privilege granted to common-law spouses will have to go through further legal proceedings to be granted by the court.”

“It’s a good thing you have a cutthroat lawyer on your side.”

“Whose exorbitant rates are preposterous.”

“It’s worth it though, isn’t it?”

“For Lee Dongsik? Always.”

“I’m really happy for you, Joowon-ah. Both of you. You’ll show me the photos, right?”

“Of what?”

“The wedding ceremony. I’m sure it’s going to be magical.”

“Why would I show you photos?”

“I—I just thought—I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Why would I show you photos when you can take them yourself?”

“… What?”

“You’ll be out on parole soon, won’t you? For good behavior.”

“How did you—”

“I have, shall we say, a ridiculously overcompensated lawyer working on it.”

“… But why? Why would he—why would you do this for me?”

“There’s a reason we set the date of the wedding ceremony after your prison sentence has ended.”

“I—Dongsik-ie didn’t invite me.”

“You’re not his guest. You’re mine, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

—

“I see,” Gwangyoung murmurs. “I’ll take note of that. Thank you for informing me.”

Jihwa looks up as Gwangyoung ends his call. She sees the way he frowns when he sees precisely who’s missing.

“Where’s Dongsik-hyung?”

“Where do you think?” Jaeyi looks incredibly drained but the smile she gives them all is much more weightless now. “It’s going to be an impossible challenge to pry ahjussi away from Inspector Han’s bedside from now on, unless someone has a pretty compelling reason.”

“Nothing less than the apocalypse happening,” Seonnyeo says amusedly as the tightness of her shoulders finally relaxes.

Dosoo grins at his wife when she lays her head on his shoulder. “Maybe not even then.”

“We’re going to have to ask the nurses to bring in two trays for every hospital meal,” Jihoon chuckles, puffy eyes still red-rimmed but brighter. “And two changes of clothes every night and day too.”

“The hospital bill will also definitely double,” Ohsub says wryly. “Too bad the NHIS doesn’t recognize Inspector Han as Dongsik-ie’s dependent, though I’m sure Inspector Han can afford to pay for everything anyway.”

“It’s not really the money that’s the issue,” Jihoon protests, “but the principle of equality. Especially in the eyes of the law.”

“Yeah well,” Ohsub shrugs as he leans back with a sigh. “The world has never treated everyone equally and that’s never gonna change, kid.”

“I am not a kid,” Jihoon grumbles.

Jihwa smiles and reaches out to ruffle her baby brother’s hair affectionately. Across from her, she notes the way Gwangyoung takes his seat with a sort of quiet tension, and it makes Jihwa pause.

“Everything okay, Gwangyoung-ah? Who was that on the phone?”

He looks up at her with uncharacteristic seriousness. “A friend from the force. Someone who has access to the traffic cameras.”

Jihwa feels her pulse begin to quicken.

Ohsub narrows his eyes. “Can this friend be trusted?”

“Yes,” Gwangyoung says firmly, “because I asked him to review the route Inspector Han had taken tonight before the collision.”

The mood in the hospital corridor instantly changes at his words.

“And what did he find out?” Jihwa prompts impatiently.

Gwangyoung presses his lips together. “We all know that Inspector Han is someone who sticks rigidly to routine. Whenever he gets off work, there’s only two routes he ever takes for either of two destinations: Manyang butcher shop, or Okcheon lake.”

“Wherever ahjussi is,” Jaeyi murmurs.

Gwangyoung tilts his head. “Tonight however, he made a detour.”

Jihwa’s eyebrows rise. “To where?”

“That’s where it gets strange,” Gwangyoung says in frustration. “The cameras coincidentally malfunctioned just as he started to break away from his normal route.”

That’s not a coincidence.

“The tickets.”

Everyone turns to Jaeyi in surprise; Jihoon clutches the letter envelope a little tighter against his chest.

Jaeyi meets Jihwa’s gaze. “Inspector Han told me that he went to pick up the tickets tonight.”

“Where though?” Dosoo pipes up. “Ticketing offices are already closed by the time his shift is over.”

“That’s not even the most questionable part.”

Jihwa turns at the way her brother hesitantly speaks up; his brows are furrowed in contemplation as he gazes at the envelope in his hands. He takes a deep breath and meets Jihwa’s eyes.

“The tickets for the festival were already sold out months ago,” Jihoon says quietly. “I’ve been wondering how Joowon-hyung got these tickets in the first place.”

“Some government offices actually get free complimentary tickets from entertainment companies who want to cut through the red tape,” Ohsub points out. “It’s technically bribery, but unfortunately it’s common practice for crooked officials taking advantage of the perks. Maybe Inspector Han’s department got a hold of these tickets.”

Jaeyi swiftly shakes her head. “No, Inspector Han definitely said he bought them.”

“Also—” Dosoo’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Han Joowon? Accepting bribery?”

“… All right, well, point taken,” Ohsub mutters. “It was just a theory.”

Government offices…

“Seonnyeo-ah,” Jihwa calls her out. “Can you go through the list of clients the truck driver delivers to, and see if there are any government offices along his route tonight?”

Ohsub furrows his brows. “What are you up to, Inspector Oh?”

“Gathering evidence,” Jihwa answer simply, startling all of them when she starts rattling instructions. “Jihoon-ah, if it’s true that the festival is already sold out, and Jaeyi says that Inspector Han only got the tickets tonight, it means he bought them secondhand.”

She gestures to the letter envelope in Jihoon’s hands.

“All tickets have corresponding control numbers that are unique to each one. You and Jaeyi should go through the secondhand market online to see if anyone posted photos or screenshots of the tickets with these control numbers and find out who the seller is. Ask Prosecutor Kwon to send you photos of his own ticket too. Dosoo-ya, I need you to get the footage of the dashboard camera from both vehicles involved in the crash, asap. And Gwangyoung-ah.”

Gwangyoung snaps to attention at being addressed.

“Your informant.” Jihwa narrows her eyes. “Who does he work for?”

—

“There’s just one thing I’d like to know, Park Jeongje-ssi.”

“Anything, Joowon-ah.”

“What exactly did you mean when you said my father’s men won’t be a problem anymore?”

—

Dongsik’s grip on Hyeok tightens.

“I know you won’t appreciate hearing this from me, Hyeok-ah,” he hisses, “but I will never forgive you if you make Joowonie go through the agonizing pain of losing the only sibling he’s ever known—”

Even through several layers of clothing, Hyeok feels the way Dongsik’s fingernails dig sharply into his skin.

“—because I know exactly what that feels like.”

Hyeok heart spasms.

“Then you’ll understand precisely what I’m about to ask of you.”

He grasps Dongsik’s arm with equal fervor, his gaze burning with equal intensity.

“I beg of you, Lee Dongsik,” Hyeok invokes beseechingly, casting away all of his pride for the one person he’s risking it all for. “Please don’t let me lose my brother.”

—

Jihwa stares at all the undeniable, irrefutable evidence in her hands.

It all points to a single entity.

Slowly, she raises her head—and sees her family, her team, all watching her.

Waiting.

Jihwa takes a deep breath and looks at her boss.

“Superintendent Kwak,” she says solemnly, “I formally ask for your permission for Violent Crimes to pursue and prioritize this case.”

She glances at her partner. Dosoo nods once—firmly.

Resolutely.

Ohsub’s expression is grave when Jihwa turns back to him.

“And I’m going to need a search and seizure warrant for—”

—

“The Community Safety and Traffic Bureau will be welcoming new employees today, so you all better be on your best behavior.”

“Why? These newbies are going to go through our hazing anyway.”

“What are their jobs?”

“Management changed agencies due to budget cuts, so there’s going to be new custodians on board.”

“You mean glorified janitors.”

“A lot of them are ex-cons who are out on parole or probation, so it’s not like they have the best career options to choose from.”

“Who would willingly choose a career in cleaning toilets, right?”

“Ah here comes one of them now. According to his file, his probation just ended, so he’s now a free man once again.”

“Free to once again commit crimes and land himself back in prison.”

“Who knows, maybe this one isn’t a lunatic for once. You over there, you’re new, right? What’s your name?”

The man in question stops. Slowly, he takes off the cap of his custodian uniform, revealing a wild mess of curls underneath.

Everyone takes an unwitting step back at the maniacal glint of those eyes as the man takes a deep, ninety-degree bow.

“My name is…”

The man straightens, his mouth stretching in a wide, serpentine grin of a psychopath, rivaling that of a serial killer—

—and they collectively feel their heart stop as they all instantly recognize who he is.

And somehow they know, without a doubt, that they’re all about to burn.

“Lee Dongsik, at your service.”

—

모든 게 다 타 버리고 남아있는 한 줌이여 Ash, ash, ash, ash 방주를 새롭게 지어 나아가 저 세계로 Ash, ash, ash, ash

Oh, the handful that's left from everything burning Ash, ash, ash, ash Let's build a new ark and go out into the world Ash, ash, ash, ash

—

Also posted at AO3

For @eonni92, whose multiple, precious gifts of artistry I wholeheartedly treasure, and for whom I can only humbly offer this story as my gift in return.

—

Title and lyrics from "Ash" by SEVENTEEN

References:

The landmark Supreme Court ruling recognizing the rights of same-sex couples is based on factual events in South Korea, as publicized in July 2024. A portion of the article from The Korea Times is lifted word for word for the purposes of this story. You can read the article in full here. The only fictional aspect in this story with regards to the actual lawsuit is who the prosecutor in charge was 😉

Both the Oh family background and the Han family background are all canon, based on the character backgrounds in the official script book by Beyond Evil writer Kim Sujin herself. You can read the English translations of the script book here, as translated by @rumpleteasa, who is a remarkable gem of a reliable resource for the fandom.

Thank you so much for your time in reading this story, and always remember:

It's not "blood is thicker than water" but "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb".

May you all find your own Manyang butcher shop, and may you all redefine what it truly means to be family.

[l3irdl3rain]

my mom got me two cloth cat diapers to put over Valentine’s actual diapers to help keep them from falling down. They are his hot pink pants

[imaginedisish]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life. 

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.  

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind. 

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway. 

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you. 

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying. 

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down. 

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle. 

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.” 

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.  

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh. 

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back. 

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway. 

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs. 

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance. 

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering. 

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself. 

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin. 

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it. 

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.” 

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.” 

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something. 

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile. 

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell. 

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall. 

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies. 

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest. 

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!” 

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth. 

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine. 

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you. 

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist. 

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest. 

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.   

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. 

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him. 

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter. 

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say. 

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes. 

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—” 

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.” 

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.” 

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.” 

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down. 

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck.  You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum. 

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. 

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks.  You, you think. 

“Me?” What? 

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.  

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours. 

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing. 

Everything is him. Logan. 

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you. 

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.  

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him. 

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.” 

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way. 

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other. 

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest. 

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower. 

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass. 

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.” 

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes. 

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core. 

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.” 

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit. 

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement. 

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt. 

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out. 

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again. 

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly. 

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.” 

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good. 

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper. 

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you. 

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air. 

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence. 

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” 

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.  

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 3 - something you need to hear right now.

Last day where the Sun is in Scorpio. First day where the Sun enters Sagittarius.

The month of November is always a tough month for everyone. This pick a card is aimed to give some guidance through these dark times. Scorpio energy can be sometimes overwhelmingly intense and gloomy, but it holds great power. Use this energy to die peacefully, and shed your old skin. Like a phoenix, we will all rise from our ashes.

Words of encouragement, healing messages and a tiny bit of reality checks are what this reading will bring you. Hope it resonates.

Pile 1 

The World, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands, Page of Swords, 10 of Swords (Rx), Queen of Pentacles (Rx?)

Top of the deck : 8 of Cups

Bottom of the deck : 2 of Swords

Life path 7 / Life path 11

“You don’t drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there.”

“Do what makes you fucking happy”

additional quote : “Do what makes your soul shine <3”

Right off the bat, there is a sense of urgency in walking away from something and making a firm decision. I think you have been in denial about something in your life, avoiding it by trying to live a “normal life”. You’ve been focusing on your day to day tasks as a distraction but something has been at the back of your mind for a while now. And when I say for a while, I mean at least two years, or one year. It is something that you have, overtime, subconsciously suppressed because at the time this thing, career, job, creative endeavor,.. was important to you, but you did not have (or thought you didn’t have) enough knowledge and resources to take methodical practical steps towards it. I am picking up that this might have been something that happened slightly before or during the pandemic (2019/2020). The World fell out of the deck, and this card indicates the completion of a cycle, an ending. After it, the 2 of Wands fell, which indicates future planning, progress, decision and discovery. I feel like the message you need to hear is that now is the perfect time to start this project of yours, or at least plan the practical actions you need to take over the course of the next few months to accomplish it. Don’t overthink over certain details and possible technical issues. There is a fire inside of you that you consistently turned off, thinking and hoping that the embers would eventually die out. The problem you are currently facing is that they never did. You might have an Aries North node. Being assertive and independent doesn’t come easy to you. Starting projects and following your instincts without second guessing yourself is hard. You tried to manage your truest and deepest desires but I feel like this past year, the desire to let it all out, probably influenced by the Lunar nodes being in the sign of Aries and Libra, urging you to just go for it, intensified to the point of suffocation. 

Your spirit guides are urging you to take this leap of faith, to walk confidently towards that goal like The Fool, without worrying if you run the risk of falling from a ravine in the process.

They’re telling you to start slow, to take a step by step approach while still keeping a strong mindset. You will come out victorious only if you’re able to keep pushing through the obstacles. What awaits you is a slow and steady marathon and growth. You can do it !

Oracle cards from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

16 - Memory / Rosemary => Leo energy

“Deeper levels of connection with people, concepts and plans are all areas that Rosemary works with. You are reminded to ensure you are in touch with your inner wisdom, paying heed to the past, and have cleared what needs to be released. Listen to your intuition as it is calling to you at present, but be wary of gossip or becoming tactless or too forceful.”

5 - Grounding / Potato => Virgo energy

“Explore the deepest, innermost areas of yourself and situations, as potatoes indicate energies that are calling you to look again at what you may have once missed and will help to bring stability. If you are looking for an answer, try pulling back a little to let things settle on their own first. Challenges at the moment may include ignorance, self-centeredness and forgetfulness, so make sure you are compassionate and focused.

You are called to use all the knowledge you acquired overtime to finally take action. You’re currently ending a cycle. You have enough wisdom to make a plan that will lead you closer and closer to tangible success. Trust your intuition and inner guidance. Don’t make rash decisions, but be decisive.

Just realized these two cards have the same message in the guide book ! This is a crazy coincidence. I used it many times and never paid attention. I didn’t even know two cards could have the same message. This is crazy lol.  Let me share the quote with you : 

 “When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden”

Pile 2 

2 of cups, 3 of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Ace of Wands, The Star, 2 of Swords, Page of Pentacles 10 of Pentacles

“The same light you see in others is shining within you too.”

(there are a lot of references to light, stars,shining,;. throughout the reading. Are you drawn to space ? or the galaxy ? You’re probably a huge astrology, and/or astronomy nerd. You are probably also a huge dreamer. Maybe drawn to the idea of being a starseed. You might have strong aquarius placements, or a populated 11th house. Pluto finally going in Aquarius this week is going to grant you so much luck and recognition ! You are about to step into your power for the next 20 years. Like a rocket, you are about to fly towards the stars. Are you ready for the take off ?  

“Don’t let the ugliness of others kill the beauty in you”

Something you need to hear is that you are about to be blessed by the universe ! Shooting Star by XG just started playing !

“Babe, if I give it my all, will it pay off?

Workin' overtime, no days off

All these shootin' stars in the dark (Yeah)

All these shootin' stars in the dark, make a wish (Yeah)

Takin' off from the ground, it's amazin'

So outta this world, I'm in space

Now I'm goin' up, headin' to the stars

Wouldn't trade it out for another life, no

Yeah, we ridin', ridin', ridin' on up (Woo)

So shinin', shinin', shinin' for sure

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish (Shinin', shinin', yeah)

Ooh, ah, put in work like it's a habit (I'm lookin' so lavish)

It's a big move, every day's like a dream

Makin' big moves as I should 'cause I'm a queen (Ooh)

Ooh, ah, I'm lookin' so lavish

Ooh, ah, yeah, I bet you can't imagine (Oh yeah)”

You are shining on your way towards the stars. You are currently in your Queen of Wands and Ace of Wands energy, (Million Dollar Baby just started playing, you’re really sure of yourself and goal oriented right now).

You are bursting with confidence and assertiveness. You are determined towards your goals. You are in a “work hard, play hard” type of energy. If it’s not currently happening, you are about to have a huge burst of popularity on whatever you’re currently working on. Could be any project, a youtube channel, a business : there are a few people that are well respected in the industry you're aiming for that are eyeing you right now and that are about to offer you a contract/ a deal/ a collaboration. They have been probably on a hunt for someone like you for a while now and they were probably starting to lose hope until they came across your page/work/profile. They see you as a Star, you’re unique and like The Star in the tarot, you represent hope and faith to them/to their business/ association/school/company. They see your raw potential and they are going to help you refine it. 

Right now, you’re probably more focused on your work/ career/ school and nurturing your friendships, going out. You’re basically active in your social circles and this is benefiting you a lot ! 

An additional message you need to know is that you’re attracting a soulmate! It’s not necessarily a romantic soulmate, could be a friendship, a mentor.. Whatever the nature of this relationship is, it is going to fill you up with even more joy and hope! Your spirit guides are so proud of you and of all the work you have been putting in lately. Even though it was hard, you stayed patient and worked diligently towards your goals and desired reality. You did a lot of shadow work, tried your best to let go of the limiting beliefs that were holding you back. The Universe wants to tell you they are about to reward you.

Oracle card from the Green With Oracle pulled for you : 

40 - Positivity / Marigold : Leo energy (again you are shining and radiating confidence! Your solar plexus chakra and sacral chakra might be in overdrive currently! You are the main character in the play that is your life.)

 “A better understanding is indicated and a reason to be more optimistic about outcomes and the roads to get there. There are opportunities for nurturing encounters and a general aura of happiness pervades. Marigolds help us focus on the positive aspects of even the most difficult events. Your inner child may need to come out for a play, and be sure to take creative invitations. Be wary of not having all the facts and of emotional blockages.”

Pile 3

TW : this pile is a bit sad and angsty.

Before I pulled any cards for you, I already felt your energy overlapping in Pile 2’s reading. Your energy was really intense, deep and melancholic. Sad songs started playing, which completely contradicted pile 2’s energy (which was overwhelmingly positive). You are probably going through a really tough period right now and your soul is desperately crying for help, praying for a hand to come and save you. You have been having really painful realizations regarding your past, especially your childhood. You’ve recently realized that the child inside of you was buried alive. You’ve recently realized that you lost your essence. While growing up, you accommodated to the world around you, what people expected of you, what was “normal”, what was acceptable. By bowing down to other people’s expectations, you let your true self die slowly. You’ve been on autopilot for a while now, completely numb and empty. There is a bit of mirroring between this pile and pile 1 of suppressing one's authentic self and desires. 

Right now, you feel that your heart has been almost rotting inside. You lost all of your passion and your spark of life. But, don’t worry, what you need to hear now is that this painful realization is what is going to set you free. It is the first step towards a really deeply healing period where you are going to reconnect with your inner child. I heard : “The truth will set you free, but first, it will piss you off”. Did you read my last reading by any chance ? I am getting the energy that you chose pile 2 and 3, both or just one, or that you would resonate with those two piles for some reason. Don’t hesitate to check it out, you might find some comforting messages I heard ! 

Now, let me pull some cards for you. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to use different decks than the ones I used for the first two piles. So, your pile will have different messages (no message from the Green Witch oracle for you)

 [took a little break before going to your pile. You probably need to slow down on your day to day tasks. I know it’s really hard in the productivity obsessed capitalist world we live in, and it is a huge privilege to be able to have enough time and energy to spiritually reconnect with ourselves, but this is what your spirit guides are urging you to do. You’ve got this.]

For you, I used the Occult Tarot and the Heavenly Bodies Astrology deck.

I only pulled 2 cards, one per deck (it was supposed to be like that but more cards sneaked in while shuffling haha) I feel like you need just a simple check up.

Cardinal - Instigation, Bravery and A pioneering spirit => your lost spark and childlike innocence will soon be reignited by a deep healing period. A new beginning is coming for you, but it will take some hibernating time before it comes. 

Sagittarius - Optimism, Exploration and Freedom

Trine - Angelic Support, Harmony and Perfect Flow

Reconnect to your higher self and spiritual side. Disconnect from the direct, yet understandable, dissatisfaction you feel towards life. Your embers that were slowly dying will relive, just trust the process, enter the deepest parts of yourself and keep exploring with positivity : your angels will guide you. There is a team of spirit guides and angels that are proud of your progress. Even if you don’t see it, they do and they want to tell you : There is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on walking.

The Hermit and the Ace of Swords :  The truth about your past came out, now is the time to meditate on those realizations and integrate them. Alchemize the pain in wisdom. You are about to come out stronger than ever. Isolate yourself, or at least try to keep your peace and have a lot of alone time (without completely stopping socializing altogether, humans are social creatures, connecting with people is important for our wellbeing) to ponder, analyze, decrypt all the patterns that you’ve been repeating. Reconnect with your inner child, look at photos of yourself when you were younger, delve deep into your childhood and childhood wounds. Maybe try to find what your attachment style is, anything that stems from your childhood that has been making you stuck in a rut these past years. Maybe, if you can, try to heal the relationship you had with your parents/parent or primary caregiver. Try to understand the nature of you guys’ relationship to see how it affects your self worth now. You've got this, trust me.

here is a link to my ko-fi.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[littlefluu]

𓍯𓂃𓏧 E N H Y P E N F I C R E C S

OCTOBER 2nd, 2024 RECOMMENDATIONS

WELCOME TO A SMALL LITTLE COLLECTIONS OF RECENT WORKS I ENJOYED For more recommendations check out my main masterlist ⤷ GO BACK TO THE MAIN ENHYPEN MASTER LIST WITH EVEN MORE RECOMMENDATIONS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

ALL OF THE MEMBERS / UNITS

i am bored we should kiss by @sunkittie f, sug. making out with Heeseung, Jay and Jake as their best friend! ᝰ making out , kissing , suggestive, best friends to lovers/??? .ᐟ₊ ⊹

just a bet & not a bet by @all4yoi a, f. after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet & upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship. ᝰ angst, fluff, reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, hyung line .ᐟ₊ ⊹

love paradise by @enhasparadise f. in which you suddenly ask your boyfriend if he loves you to see his reaction ᝰ enhypen member being a simp for their girl, really cute reaction from the member .ᐟ₊ ⊹

LEE HEESEUNG

prince charming's mismatch by @gyuuberryy a, f, sug. you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband. now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful? ᝰ prince!heeseung x princess!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au , highly suggestive content, kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee .ᐟ₊ ⊹

prada shoes and I love yous by @elix8r a, f, s. Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him.  ᝰ smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK JONGSEONG

still into you by @i2sunric f, a, sug. you’ve always thought dating a doctor was hot until you started realising his job was taking your place— but don’t worry, being a doctor meant jay could always stitch your broken heart up! ᝰ doctor!jay x reader fluff, early 2000s au, childhood friends to lovers but they’re already lovers, angst (with comfort) cuddling and kissing, a little suggestive (no smut), they grow up together, mentions of stress and fainting, mentions of pregnancy, fighting .ᐟ₊ ⊹

book lovers by @yeonzzzn s. when your book loving boyfriend has you read a specific part of the current book you’re reading out loud to him. ᝰ booknerd/bf!jay x booknerd!afab!reader, book reading shenanigans, swearing, SMUT .ᐟ₊ ⊹

half return by @heesdreameryour a, f. small towns yearly fall festival was your biggest pride and joy but getting your friends to help volunteer was nearly impossible. luckily one of them was stupid enough and too secretly in love with you to help himself from offering. ᝰ akward!jay x golden retriever!y/n, small town romance, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

confessing to his mute crush by @jaysng f. jay and deaf reader both seem to like each other, just when he thinks that his confession was a pure failer the reader does something surprising ᝰ jay x deaf!reader, pure fluff, friends to lovers .ᐟ₊ ⊹

opposites by @ikeuverse f, s. jay was the most serious ceo anyone could meet and remember, but not when you were around. while he had a difficult smile, you captivated anyone with your cheerful and relaxed manner. one night, he decided to take you into his world, the business dinner, but you didn't know if it was a good idea. ᝰ ceo!jay x fem!reader, fluff, smut, a little angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

birthday surprise by @ikeuverse f. jay didn't think he'd make it home in time for his birthday, so he didn't bother celebrating at all. but he didn't expect his best friends and you, his girlfriend, to prepare a lovely surprise. ᝰ jay x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SIM JAEHYUN

hybe boy by @onlyjaeyun a, f, s. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ Social Media Hybrid AU - 50 Chapters , single parent!au (Jake is raising his brother), neighbors/strangers to lovers, college!au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

sims anatomy by @021894s f, a, s. you, a top cardiac surgeon, find yourself increasingly frustrated by the distraction over the hospital’s new head of neurosurgery, Dr. Jake Sim. Despite your initial annoyance, you can't help but notice Jake's charm and undeniable skills. As you keep running into each other, Jake’s persistent yet respectful flirtations begin to break through your professional exterior. ᝰ neurosurgeon! jake x cardio surgeon! reader, workplace romance, situationship .ᐟ₊ ⊹

melodies of heart by @yyawnjun drunkenly making out with Jake after him just being a good listener! ᝰ jake x fem!reader, friends to lovers, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK SUNGHOON

fixed comfort by @paarksunghoon f. typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you. or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much. ᝰ sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

REACTIONS

ENHA REACTING TO YOU SUDDENLY STUFFING YOUR FACE IN THEIR NECK by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, fluff, established relationship, skinship, kissing, pet names .ᐟ₊ ⊹

HYUNG LINE REACTING TO YOU SINGING ALONG TO JUNO by @tsukiflwr ᝰ hyung line! enha x f!reader, slightly suggestive, fluff, humor, skinship, kissing .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MY FAVORITE AUTHORS @tsukiflwr ★ @ikeuverse ★ @gyuuberryy ★ @sunkittie

[zzencat]

Your Person When They Realize They Want More With You (+ character traits) - Timeless ⏳

From left to right. Choose the one you can’t take your eyes off of.

Applicable to a current or future person. This is someone that wants to be someone more to you. Warnings: tooth-rottingly sweet. Some suggestiveness. Some angst.

BEFORE YOU CHOOSE. Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You may now begin.

———————————

Pile 1. “If we’re both still single by 30, let’s get married.” “Deal.”

•you could be coworkers OR someone who goes in the same direction as you in the morning

• one day, a thought will cross their mind when they’re ordering your favorite so-and-so, maybe coffee, maybe favorite pastry, OR they randomly keep remember weird details about you(?) like “oh y/n likes this…”—cuz they’ll be like “wait…why do I know that? lol why did I just randomly rmr that…” they’ll laugh it off,,,,and then they see you again later and their heart beats a different way…

• they honestly did not see you like this before…

• ear muffs and black sweaters…puffy jackets…perhaps it’s cold/snowing when it hits them how radiant you look

•honestly a very sweet fs. if you’re okay with vanilla people, this is def for you. if not, let’s spice it upppp (you gotta do it)

• it’s weird bc it hits them gradually too. like thinking “why are you still single…why am i still single?”

• you guys have a mature vibe. ^^(relating to previous point) a lot of this pile’s fs will realize their feelings too late or will realize when you’re both financially stable

• maybe you give the vibe you’re not interested in them or you don’t have the intention of getting married—at some point you may have mentioned this to them, sober or drunk, and they rmr it so their being cautious and gauging how you could feel about them, if you feel anything for them at all

• childhood friend kind of energy. I really don’t think you see them in this way either, not until they start acting weird around you. All of sudden, they’re not smiling as much anymore and maybe they’re averting their gaze more

• it sucks bc you’ll question why and will feel weirded out when they start avoiding you, turning down your requests to hang out…

• I’m getting a very empty feel. Either you feel empty without them or they’ve been on dates with other people in the past (you’re wondering how tf they still haven’t settled) and it’s bc they’re not feeling that “unidentifiable”…spark. Like the one they should be feeling on dates with new people, but no…it’s just…dry. They don’t know what it is tho. All of these people are attractive and share the same interests, yet there’s just something missing…

• if you give this a try, you will fall very fuckin hard

• ^^ having thoughts like “how tf do they know how to cook? were they always this hot?” lawd…noticing the small things about them and it’ll get you blushin

• honestly…there’s gonna be a huge difference in communication. you’ll probably be a bit pissed- like “why are you acting so weird? have you been avoiding me?”

• they’d give you all these excuses of why they can’t hang out, and that’s bc they wanna be a lone with their feelings. They’ll try to suppress it at first because there’s just no sign that you like them back, no indication of you even feeling anything romantic towards them, and it kills them…

• I honestly see this person suffering alone from it. They’ve got all this worry and bad energy and it’s not even your fault, so the energy is just going inwards. They can’t express it- they don’t even want to verbally acknowledge it bc they’re THAT sensitive to the fact that they like you and the potential of you not liking them back. It’s really just their own mind and doubts being the bad guy

• why is this happening in a car? 😳 you might have to conjure up a little ruse to get them in one place bc they are definitely avoiding you

• I’m really getting the feeling that you were oblivious. Like it had NOT occurred to you once that they could’ve had feelings for you. The most you would’ve thought of your relationship with them is a friendship

• ^^ bc ngl a prominent portion of this group think the fs is too good for them, like out of their league—both in physical and status

• they could be tall and wear glasses, or fit and good facial bone structure

• if you mention another person (that you could possibly interested in) they’ll purse their lips and play up that they’re happy for you (but trust me, it’s fake as hell and you’ll see it). Like they won’t even be able to hold a real smile bc they’re already hurt by the possibilities. OR they just go quiet and say “oh, really?” *looks down, hands in pockets* if you’re both standing up. If you’re one of the oblivious bunch, you’ll notice their tone change but you won’t understand what’s wrong. (there’s also a split amount of you that would ask what’s wrong and others that won’t)

• BUUUT there’s also a handful of fs in this pile that will look down at their feet, hands in pockets, maybe even wearing a beanie, and will avoid your eyes while passive aggressive shooting down the other person. For example, if you compliment this other person, they’ll quietly be like “well, they’re not THAT good…”

• if you’re not giving any signs STILL? then this person will try to suppress their feelings even more and will start going on dates again. this person isn’t the most optimistic when it comes to this—which I can’t blame them for bc I think you treat them TOO much like a friend or family and joke around too casually with them that they think it’s permanently stuck like that—EVEN THO you haven’t even rejected them. there’s also a chance you’d never even friendzoned them. Perhaps when you two were younger, you were like “ewww 🤮🤮🤮” to the prospect, but now that things are different, you’re not totally opposed to it…maybe it’s crossed your mind once or twice, but you didn’t think much of it really…

•hella puppy vibes from this person tho. either they look the part or act it

•I feel kind of sad for your fs only bc some of you could friendzone them or at least have given off that vibe to them. you would go out to events with this person, even 1-on-1 and not even think of it romantically while your person is feeling this one-sided love

• it’s up to you guys if you want to date this person or not, but if you do, they will literally do EVERYTHING for you- esp the planning

• very strong cold weather, scarves, hot drinks, cold region

•this person tries to invite you out often

• i will also mention, this pile is more likely to date this person than pile 3 is to date theirs

• if you do end up dating, in the beginning stage of this relationship, they’re just shy as hellllll and you’re like “what? 😃” when you catch them staring at you — in the beginning stage, they’re prone to laughing/giggling a lot when yall make eye contact and looking away so you don’t see how flustered they are

• you could be an extrovert OR if not, you just really enjoy being around this person. their personality and presence balances out yours

• you might be unsure of what you want in a romantic partner, open to different cultures/people, kind of in your own world(?) —> like not fixated on one thing or it’s easy for you to get caught up with multiple projects/easily distracted and this person keeps track of you/keeps you grounded

• if you figure out that they have feelings for you, you’ll start to feel bad for not seeing it earlier, you’ll start to hella ruminate about it and the more you think abt them, the cuter and more appealing they seem to you

Points of Interest: infj? overthinker for sure, introvert but still good with people, the color gold, “we’re just hanging out,” going to dinner often, getting mistaken for a couple, 7:43 pm, *shrugs* “idk maybe” (from your side), unwarranted sass (from both sides), no hookups—this person wants a genuine relationship with you, “you have shit taste in love interests”(lmfao???), car fights, “wifey” *takes Snapchat selfie while sitting in the passenger seat with the more feminine energy driving*(…nah listen, if the more masc energy be saying this? dude is immediately submissive), curly hair or FLUFFY hair, lots of thick hair, you make this person feel like a kid…like you bring them back to when they didn’t have to worry about jobs and taxes, financial stability, maturity, miscommunication, amusement park dates, trench coats, “I’m feeling kind sick. Sorry 😞”, excuses, excuses, excuses, “why haven’t you been answering my texts?”, catching them try to shamelessly avoid you at the parking at their workplace, going to movies with this person and them treating it like a date (even when you don’t see it that way), when will they make an actual move??

——————

Pile 2. “What are you looking at?”

• yooo have you been to this person’s house before? 😳👀

•idk if you realize this pile 2, but if it was just the two of you, alone, with some dimmed down lights and faint jazz in the background? it could get down and dirty real quick. but only if you’re not sober and not a stubborn person. otherwise, this person isn’t who you’d initially think of as spouse-material

• I’m pretty sure this person has thought abt it before. 200% sure. Not sure if you’ve caught this, but they check you out a lot. They’ve had their eyes on you for a while…

• idk if they’re a huge flirt or just really gives off sensual vibes, but this person is hot…damn

• something about their eyes. They always look so sensual? Or they look really seductive? They’ve got *those* eyes ykwim? They’re also very laidback so that adds to their sexiness

• I think I lot of people wanna sleep with this person, so you’re in an unsaid “competition” — or at least the people around you see it as such. you might get a few dirty looks or sneaky glances your way from jealous people and it’s honestly tiring. you won’t care but it’s just an extra bug on your shoulder

• an issue tho is that you could find this person untrustworthy or not ready for commitment. they’re just hot AND THEY KNOW IT, so if someone asks them for a piece, they’ll easily give themselves — BUT what you don’t know is that a lot of the fs, NOT ALL, in this pile are very picky with who they want

• if you’re smart, this person could tease you for it. only bc they find it super sexy tho. You’re not exactly friends, just acquaintances/partners in business? People who know of each other because of mutual things or people. They know you secretly want them tho even if you try to keep composure

• I’m sure a lot of this pile thinks this person is conceited as hell or you could even cringe at how they are, and you wouldn’t admit in front of them (not even to yourself) that you do find them attractive

• if you’re stubborn, possess a lot of self control, or perhaps hold yourself and others to a standard, maybe it’s just hard for people to get into your pants in general—but this person will like that. they think you have substance to you and you’re not like the rest

• This person likely has a bunch of yes-men around them. It’s a pretty privilege thing

• pretty mysterious and even prettier eyes

• smth about those eyes man… you’d blow up if you look too long or steam might start coming outta your ears

• a lotttt smarter than they play out to be

• if you’ve never been with this person sexually, they’d be so down. if you’ve hooked up once, they’d hit you up again

• even tho this person seems noncommittal, once they commit, they REALLY do

• this person might be wealthy or has grown up in an affluent space

• OR they’ve grown up playing sports

•I don’t think they view people as “pawns” necessarily. I think you perceive them as super popular but in reality, they only consider a handful of friends, real friends. this person isn’t dumb and they know who kisses their ass

•your deviance will intrigue them. not conforming to what they want and what the people around them are like. you do what you want and they like that. they like that you also don’t settle for less.

•but I have to say, these people don’t chase. If you end up with this person, it’s bc you grew the balls to ask them out and they, impressed, agreed to it. Outside, they LOOK the same- like carry the same expression on dates, but inside, they know there’s something more to you

• it’s most likely an ego thing. They don’t do the asking out if you’re someone minding your own business

• both of you guys have an ego thing tho. This person beats you by a smidge but you think they get too much credit for just…existing.

• they’re thinking how people usually try to get with them, but bc you haven’t yet, that kind of…tugs their attention a bit. (Their spirit doesn’t want me to make it obvious that they’re lowkey affected by it lmfaoo). It’ll hang in the back of their mind, yes, but it’s not something they think about randomly in the middle of the day

�� this person has found or will find success early in life…in their 20s or even before. Some of it may be due to their looks getting them the opportunities, but they haven’t done modeling. At least, not for the sake of modeling. I don’t think it’s an interest of theirs. Heavy on business person tho or someone pursuing a profession in business/finance/economics

• this person’s jaw is nicely shaped. they don’t have too much fat around their jaw

• weirdly, they can be smart for their age. I think they feel a bit of pressure from being praised for so long for looking so good that they have to perform at that same level

• there will be chances for you to actually speak to them regularly, but they will seldom make the first move. they want you to pursue so it doesn’t hurt their ego. if they can’t take it anymore, they’ll approach you (preferably at an event or somewhere where youre kind of…disillusioned? stood up, standing alone somewhere feeling insecure abt something…not in the right state of mind/unbalanced mind

•i’m not getting too many extroverts here. high chance a lot of you are introverted and would rather not be at this event. you either pushed yourself to be here or you HAD to be here. the people at this kind of event are not for you…you don’t like a lot of them and some of them feel the same towards you. you don’t care too much tho (maybe a little but not to the point where it hurts your self esteem)

Points of Interest: suits, symmetrical face, blessed features, POSSIBLY MIXED RACE, hazel colored hair, brown or tan skin, hair that compliments skin color, eyes with soul, kinky as hell, realllly good looking, switch in bed, there’s a lot of emphasis on this person’s looks, “don’t try to fight it,” 50 shades of grey (😂?!?), “if you want me, just say so”, any slow Chris Brown song, some fs here has stubble, laidback, single hand in pocket, isn’t scared to make eye contact with you, will leave a conversation with their friend midway to talk to a potential lover/partner in bed interest, zayn malik is not leaving my brain, very slow and sensual vibe, the color black or darker shades, tons of eye fucking (from them to you), intense gaze and especially intense eyes (the staring into your soul type, full of desire and curiosity type), black clothing, mysteriousness, unable to look away, intj vibes

———————

Pile 3. Best friends forever.

• This one feels more sad than the other piles bc it’s just straight up unrequited love (from you). they’ve got the fattest crush going on but you may not feel the same way.

• ^^ damn yeah…i’m getting a mixed bag for this. some of you are open towards it but the other half of you are really not interested

• This person has to have started out as a friend first and then started making subtle, almost too subtle and friendly, gestures that they’re interested in you

• similar to pile 1, you won’t be able to tell that they like you. UNLESS, they get super (very obviously) shy when asking you to go somewhere with them, like a movie or something — and you’ll be able to tell with the stuttering and head scratching and fidgeting, might struggle to make eye contact but will try

• ^^^ The biggest distinction between this pile and pile 1 is that this person is a full on FRIEND. pile 1 is more of friends that fell apart and are reconnecting, while not considered to be a part of your friend group or close friends. in pile 3, there’s an obvious disconnect, like some kind of veil between you two, and it’s really bc they only see you, but to you, this person is a ghost. someone that you really only feel platonic towards.

• they could be soft spoken or has a very… “non-aggressive” voice when speaking to you specifically

• tries to send you funny stuff or make conversation on text — 50/50 answering you right away bc they don’t wanna seem desperate/obvious, but they’ll remember to respond in the same day

• i think they hold back a lot tbh. like they have to sling back to composure whenever you’re around

• stares at you a lot in a group setting

• this person is sooooo similar to pile 1, but more…masochistic? lmfao I mean as in…wanting to be around you even when they know that they don’t have a chance or even after you’d straight up rejected them

• to be honest, there’s a chance you don’t like them that way because of their looks? the personality is perfectly fine but they’re not the type of person you’d go for if you’re looking for someone super attractive (this might be a bit harsh, but maybe a big part of why you’re comfy around them is bc they’re not someone that has model type looks? like it makes you less nervous around them than you would be around someone crazy good looking)

• stalks your social media a lot, doesn’t look at other people. you literally occupy their mind around the clock

• some people here might date this person, only for a little time tho bc there could be someone else you’re interested in, so you end up breaking up. for everyone else, you’re just really unlikely to date this person bc they’re too far from what you consider a romantic partner

• in a monogamous relationship, these are the type of people that would forgive you and welcome you back into their lives if you cheated on them

• an extremely SMALL portion of you, and i mean very small, will actually see this person for who they are and will decide to stay with them. idk if this is out of pity, “oh it’s bc I feel bad for them 🥹”, or possible regret- like “if I don’t date this person, I might regret it”—looking at it like a missed opportunity?? if you genuinely like them and grow fond of them, it will come later and like I said, an extremely small amount of you (~99.9% nonexistent)

• in rejection, this person takes YEARS to get over it. even if they try dating someone else, they’ll think about you and will show care towards you — some will try to be less obvious like “it’s fine i’m over it 🙂‍↔️” but nah, you can feel it. at some point, you could feel annoyed about this

• there’s a small chance that they believe you’ll give them a chance after rejection so they won’t date easily—unless you end up dating someone else and they know abt it, then they’ll do the previous bullet point

Points Of Interest: emotionally masochistic bc they keep wanting to be around you even when they’re hurt (if rejected, this person NEEDS to take some months away from you. idk if they’ll do that right away or not), “nothing else to say”, “that’s okay, I can wait”, awkward, unrequited love, unbreakable loyalty, “aww you’re so sweet”, this person is super rebound energy, gets their heart broken and welcomes the heartbreaker in again, snapback, acne, crooked smile, possible mbti involved (you or them): enfj, enfp, infp, isfj, esfj

———————

Teddy Note: Enjoy this one guys!! As always, thank you for reading. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t :)

Teddy outtt 😎😎😎

[allllium]

I really love your fics!!! They’re seriously just 10/10. Could you maybe do something with Jason Todd getting a crush on the new vigilante in town? Or him meeting his childhood best friend after being resurrected (possibly him saving them as Red Hood) and just SIMPING over how much they’ve changed since last time he saw them. Like, his mind just going “minemineminemine” and “Yes, I am now a married man”

Love your work!!! ❤️❤️

Miss You

~ Fluff, WC: 1,119

~ Jason meets you again

Jason had a best friend, before he died that is. Ever since he came back he's felt alone, no one being able to fill the hole left when he lost you. Lost you isn't the right word. He can go to you at any time, replace the friendship he craves to have again, but he won't. Call it pride, call it self-doubt, call it whatever you want but he'll never do anything to fix it. Not unless he has too.

You're walking along a strip of dark buildings. Not a smart choice but definitely the fastest to take after a long night shift. The only thing you want to do is fall into your bed and sleep a whole day away. Living in Gotham means you are no longer surprised or scared by the constant yelling and booming noises. Most of them are made by teenagers doing dumb things with their friends or random people deciding to fight in the streets. They don't last too long considering the millions of vigilanties that are always running around.

But tonight as you walk by multiple allies, on a dark street, near where you know multiple self declared "gangs" hang out, everything is silent. Somewhere else, anywhere else, that'd be a good thing. But right now it gives you the chills. Every step you take feels like it's being watched, no, like it's being analyzed. Like something or someone is trying to memorize every move you make. A gaze you somewhat recognize.

Jason doesn't mean to be a creep. He really doesn't. But he can't look away. After he died he never thought he'd see you again. Everyone told him you stopped showing up to dinners and didn't answer any of their calls. It was hard for him to think of never seeing you again, he didn't know a time in his life when he didn't know you. Now he finds himself sitting on a windowsill on the opposite side of the street, unable to look away from you. You've changed a lot since he last saw you, but somehow you still look exactly the same. Jason has never had a crush on you before. Of course he always wondered what being with you would be like, and he's thought a lot about how amazing it would be to kiss you, not to mention the hundreds of times you've had him blushing like a crazy person. But he's never had a crush. That'd be insane.

You continue walking around as if nothings bothering you. The last thing you want to worry about is someone watching you. It's probably nothing. On the other side of the street you can hear thumping every couple of feet. It doesn't take a genius to know the sound is coming from someone jumping from roof to roof. You look over just in time to see someone land on their feet. It's obviously one of the vigilanties, guessing by their size and stature.

Jason feels his heart almost stop when you look directly at him. He knows you don't know it's him, how could you after all this time and in the dark, but it makes him panic just a little bit. You'd think after everything he's had to deal with he wouldn't freak over such a small thing. It's not until he sees you raise your eyebrows expectantly that he starts making his way off the roof and towards you in the street. He can't believe how much you've changed, how amazing you look.

You watch intently as he comes closer. It only takes a moment before he's standing face to face with you.

"You better have a damn good reason for following me."

He doesn't answer.

"Hello? If you're going be a creep at least explain why."

All you can here is heavy breathing through his mask.

"Okay this is just weird." You begin to walk away but he grabs your arm to stop you. "Did you really just grab me?"

"I'm sorry." You don't recognize his voice but something is pulling at you. You let out an angry breath.

"Are you gonna explain yourself yet?"

"I wasn't trying to be a creep I promise." He starts to defend himself but trails off. "You walked by some bad people earlier and I wanted to make sure you got home safe."

"Mhm. What else?" You cross your arms over your chest, not believing he gave the whole explanation.

He pauses again. For a second you believe he won't answer. "You look good."

"I thought you weren't trying to be a creep, what the fuck?" You take a big step away from the man standing to your front.

"No no no no that's not what I meant." He tries to come closer to you but you take another step back.

"I don't care what you meant, that's weird man."

"Where do you live?"

"Okay I'm leaving now."

"No wait, again not how I meant for that to sound. I just mean I can give you a better explanation when we're not standing in the middle of the street." He rambles.

"Fine, but I expect no more excuses."

You reluctantly show him to way to your house. Now that you've been closer to him you recognize him as Red Hood, a newer vigilantie. He's a good guy, he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Here we are." You announce as you step up to unlock your door. Red Hood follows you a little too close.

"It's nice." He says quietly, almost as if he's unsure of his voice.

"Thanks. Now explain." The second the door is shut you demand to know more.

"I'm not really sure how to say this."

"Well you don't really have a choice do you?"

"No I guess not. I've never been able to say no to you." He makes a sound that almost seems like a laugh.

"Never? Do we know each other?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna need more than a single word."

Instead of saying anything he takes off his mask Suddenly every makes sense. Or as much as it can when you're dead best friend is standing in front of you.

"Jason." You smile.

"Hi. This isn't how I wanted to do this."

"No? How did you?" You take a step closer to him.

"Well to be honest I wasn't. I really didn't expect you to know I was there."

"You aren't very quiet." You turn away and take a seat on your couch.

"I should probably work on that." He sits next to you. You look amazing."

"Thank you Jay."

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

"I will later. Right now I just want to sit, I've missed you."

"I miss you too."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

[leighsartworks216]

Christmas Suprises

Zayne x AFAB!Reader

When I say I don't enjoy pregnancy fics or proposal fics, I NEED you to believe me cuz WHY did this fester in my brain until I put it down in a doc

Warnings: Christmas, fluff, domestic fluff, unplanned pregnancy, marriage proposal, crying, literal sleeping together, cuddling, anxiety

Word Count: 2,514

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare down at the little white stick, mouth falling open in shock. You can’t even hear the grating alarm of your phone going off anymore, or the eager knocking on the bathroom door. It’s like your mind hasn’t caught up to your body yet. You don’t think about reaching out and opening the door; your body just does it.

“Well?” Tara asks excitedly. “Yes or no?”

The world around you comes back into focus. You blindly paw at your phone screen to hit the button to shut up its alarm. You think your hand is shaking when you look up at your friend.

“It says… I’m pregnant.”

She squeals and throws her arms around your neck, bouncing on her feet, bursting with joy. “Congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

You cling onto her. She doesn’t seem to mind, even as you wipe your eyes over her shoulder and sniffle by her ear.

You can’t believe it. You’re actually pregnant. You really, really are. You’re going to have a baby. You’re going to have a baby.

Tara pulls away with a gasp. “How are you gonna tell him?” she asks conspiratorially.

“God, I have no idea.” You stare at the two pink lines on the stick. Pregnant. “He doesn’t even know I’m late for my period, Tara. How am I-?”

“Oh, oh, I know! Tell him on Christmas!”

“On Christmas? Are you sure? I mean, what if he doesn’t want kids? We’ve never talked about it before.” You scoff, rubbing your eyes at the mounting worry welling up within you. It swirls around in your stomach, growing larger and larger as your panic bleeds into it. “We’re not even married! What’re his parents going to think? Shit, what about his career?!” You grab Tara’s shoulders, jostling her slightly with the force. “What if his reputation is ruined because he had a kid without being married?!”

Tara grabs your shoulders in turn, rubbing them sympathetically. “Calm down first, okay? You don’t have to do my idea, but I think you’re overthinking this.”

You sigh. Slowly, you let go of her. “No, no, you’re right. I- I’ll think about it. Thank you for helping me out, Tara.”

“Of course! Just keep me updated, okay?” She giggles. “I need to know how he reacts!”

Even as you’re led to her couch and offered a soothing cup of tea, the panic doesn’t untwist from your guts.

-

You’re awake first. This doesn’t usually happen, but it’s only fitting that the anxiety that kept you from falling asleep easily last night also wakes you up earlier than needed. You study Zayne’s face in the dim moonlight.

He looks utterly at peace. There’s no tension in his brow. His eyes are relaxed, fluttering under his eyelids to watch a dream play out. Lips slightly parted with soft breaths.

His parents called yesterday, wishing they could be here and apologizing for their gifts being sent late due to the inclement weather where they’re stationed. Zayne always got this childlike sweetness to his expression whenever they were involved, smiling without restraint and allowing himself to be more outwardly affectionate. You’d seen it before when you recorded a video of him on his birthday to send to his parents, but seeing it now, picturing that same happiness on his face with his own child… He’d caught you staring at one point. You’d smiled and tried to play it off. You’re not sure he bought it, but he didn’t say anything about it after the call ended.

You really can’t sleep now. Your heart is beating too fast, tight in your chest with worry. You slowly roll onto your back. The white ceiling stares down at you. You stare right back, chewing mindlessly on your bottom lip.

Time passes by in a blur. You’re not sure how much has gone by when a finger carefully frees your lip from your teeth’s assault. You turn your head to see a freshly-woken Zayne. His hand falls to rest on the bed between you.

“What has you so worried?” His voice has a quiet rasp to it in the morning, especially when he whispers. You could listen to it for hours.

You shift to lay on your side, facing him once again. You distract yourself by playing with his fingers. “Nothing,” you lie with a placating smile. “I’m just hoping you’ll like the gifts I got you.”

He hums, but he doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he captures your restless hand and brings it to his lips. Those pretty hazel green eyes of his close with the kiss he places on your knuckles. “I’m sure you chose the best gifts,” he says. “You know me too well to get me something I wouldn’t like.”

“True…”

He guides your hand to rest on his face. He’s warm from sleep, the barest hint of stubble starting to come in along his jaw.

“Can we open the gifts first today?” He opens his eyes to look at you again. You can feel the way he studies you. You try not to falter as you add, “I know we usually have breakfast first, but…”

A flicker of confusion, gone in a flash. “Of course. But it’s still early. You should try to get some more sleep.”

Maybe he can sense the exhaustion underneath your anxiety, or maybe he can see the bags under your eyes in the dim light. Or maybe he just knows you better than you think he does.

He reaches under the blankets to grab your hip, drawing you toward him like he has on so many restless nights before. You’re powerless to refuse the silent request. So you scoot closer, forming yourself to fit perfectly against his chest. He slips his arm under your head, letting you use his bicep as a pillow. You tuck your head under his chin and press your face against his neck.

Arms wrapped around each other, holding one another close before the breaking dawn of Christmas Day. He traces soothing shapes against your spine. You count his heartbeat as it thumbs by your ear. Somehow, you’re able to find sleep again.

-

Wrapping paper - neatly undone or carelessly torn - sit in a pile on the floor. Various gifts sit stacked or folded in neat piles on the coffee table, organized by Zayne. There aren’t many gifts in all. Really, you both had most everything you could ever wish for.

But now it’s time for the final gift. You jump up from the couch with a smile. “I have one more gift. Lemme go grab it.”

He shoots you a look. “And why isn’t it under the tree?” he teases.

You wish that simple question didn’t pour gasoline into the firepit of anxiety in your stomach. You wave him off, covering up your uncertainty with playfulness. “It was too important to go under there. I’ll only be a second.”

He hums, but doesn’t say anything more about it, watching silently as you retreat back into the bedroom. You pull the present out from your nightstand drawer. Is it the most secure place to keep something? Well, there’s nothing else really in there; nothing you’d need on a daily basis, anyway. And Zayne would never go in here without your permission. So, you trusted it more than your other idea of hiding it in your jacket pocket.

You hold the box tightly to your chest. God, please, please, please, let this go well.

You almost want to curse Tara for convincing you to go through with this. If the news ends up ruining Christmas and your relationship with Zayne, you’re going to unleash hellfire down on her.

With one last, steadying breath, you head back out to the living room.

Zayne is still waiting patiently, taking this opportunity to look at the cases of the games you got him. He sets them back down when you round the couch and sit down beside him once more. You hope he doesn’t notice your hands shaking when you pass it over.

The gift is small and thin, rectangular and lightweight, he turns it over to find where you’ve taped the decorative paper down to begin unwrapping it. You readjust to sit on your feet with your knees to your chest. Your body screams for you to hide, to escape all the possible outcomes of this situation you’ve forced yourself into. But you want to watch. You need to see his reaction.

He pauses in his unwrapping to look at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning as he wraps a hand loosely around your ankle to rub soothing circles into the jutting bone there.

You force a smile you hope isn’t as strained as it feels and nod. “I’m okay,” you lie. You nod toward the present. “Open it.”

He doesn’t let go right away. You think for a moment he may not even continue. But, thankfully, he pulls away to finish removing the paper. He drops it onto the pile with the rest.

The box itself is a blank white. There are no marks, no labels, no details of any kind that could give away what lay inside.

You hug your legs to yourself. You can’t bear to look away from his face, not even to watch as he unfolds the tab at one end and slides the little stick out. It’s ultimately more rewarding, you think, to see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. To see him lean forward as he flips the test over in order to read the results. To see the way his mouth falls open with a quiet breath.

He turns his whole body to face you. “You’re pregnant…?”

You nod shyly. “Are you upset?”

He sets the test on the table quickly, but as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world, before holding your face in both of his hands. “Why would I be upset?”

God, he looks at you so earnestly, so tenderly, you’re tearing up before you can stop yourself. Choking up over words that have suffocated you since you were hiding away in Tara’s bathroom.

“‘Cause we never talked about it before and-” A whimpering sob cuts through your words. You inhale shakily. “And we’re not even married or anything, and your job-”

“Hey, shhh.” He brushes away your tears with his thumbs. He leans forward to brush a soft kiss to your forehead, ducking down to stay close to you as he meets your eyes once more. “I have one last present for you, too,” he whispers. “Can I go get it?”

You sniffle and wipe your face with your sweater sleeve. You probably look like such a mess; you can’t seem to get the tears to stop now that they’ve started. “Why isn’t it under the tree?” you tease.

He smiles. “It was too special. Wait here, okay?”

You nod. He presses another kiss to your head before he gets up and disappears down the hall.

While he’s gone, you try to collect yourself. You lower your knees, wipe your eyes until they burn from the friction, and try to even your breathing. Right now, each breath comes in little hiccups, jittery and broken up and unproductive. You haven’t improved much by the time he gets back.

He sits down close to you, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders to pull you even closer into his side. A small velveteen box rests in his hand. He offers it to you. “I didn’t expect to be giving it to you today,” he admits bashfully, resting his cheek against your head. “But I can’t think of a better time than right now.”

You don’t have to open it to know what’s inside. All the fear that suffocated you for the last couple weeks goes up in a puff of smoke. Instead, it’s like a soothing orb of light has taken its place, healing the burns left behind and filling you with immense happiness. You turn your body into his and wrap your arms tightly around him. He rubs his thumb methodically over your shoulder.

“Should we start talking about children now?” He kisses your head. “Assuming you agree to my proposal.”

A choked, relieved laugh jostles out from your chest. Your tears get on his shirt as you nod stupidly against him. “Of course I agree!” You pull away just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re really okay with this? You… want kids with me?”

He smiles warmly, openly, as if his parents have just called and he’s already given them the news of your engagement. “I couldn’t imagine a better partner to raise a family with.” He brushes the back of his fingers across your cheek, still holding the ring box. “Are you okay with it?” he asks softly, brows pinching together slightly and eyes sharpening. “We never did talk about it. Are you comfortable with carrying a child to term?”

“It’s scary,” you admit. “But… I want this. I want a family, with you.” Your smile feels sure and solid as you whisper, “I love you.”

The seriousness in his expression fades away, replaced with contented joy. This conversation isn’t over, not by a long shot. You know there are still so many things to ask about. Questions about your future together. But they can wait a few more hours.

He sets the ring aside, right next to the pregnancy test. Both hands free, he pulls you into a secure hug, head lowered to rest on your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. He absolutely envelops you. All you can see, feel and hear is Zayne.

He presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. It’s not feverish and seeking. It’s soft, reverent, grateful. It pours out every emotion that wells up inside of him that can’t seem to fully escape. “I love you, too,” he whispers back.

You slide a hand along his back until you can tangle your fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head. He releases a shuddering breath, heavy with the relief that this is real.

Struck with an idea, you drag your other hand from his back down his arm, gently coaxing him to let go of you. Even in his confusion, he does what you want, slipping his hand from around your body. You guide it to rest over your belly, holding it there with your own. He buries his face further into your neck with a shaky sigh. “How long have you known?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to go into Dr. Zayne mode,” you tease. You press a sweet kiss beside his ear where you can reach.

You feel the grin that curves his lips. “Alright,” he relents quietly. “I’ll stay in fiancé Zayne mode for a bit longer.”

You release his hair in favor of wrapping your arm around his upper back, squeezing him closer, as if such a thing is even possible with how you’re already holding one another. “I’d like that.”

He squeezes you gently in return. “Me, too.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi

[jellofish-plant]

Caught in the Crossfire

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: Being best friends with Nightwing means you're no stranger to chaos, but falling for Jason Todd, the Red Hood, takes danger to a new level. When a mission involving a dangerous gang puts you squarely in harm's way, the tension between your loyalties and your feelings boils over. Will your bond with Nightwing survive, and will Jason let you in despite his walls?

Warnings: Mentions of violence, injury, light angst, fluff, mild language

[Masterlist]

The sharp snap of a grappling hook echoed through Gotham's empty alleyways as you swung toward the rendezvous point. Another long night assisting Nightwing your best friend on patrol, and you’d already broken a sweat fending off a gang of thugs who apparently had more muscle than brain cells.

“You okay?” Nightwing’s voice crackled in your comms, concern lacing his tone.

“Fine. Just some bruises,” you replied, landing on the rooftop where he waited, leaning casually against a vent.

“That’s my partner,” he said with a grin, ruffling your hair playfully. You swatted his hand away, rolling your eyes.

“Your partner? More like your babysitter.”

Before he could retort, a familiar voice interrupted from the shadows.

“Am I interrupting this heartwarming moment, or should I come back later?”

You turned to see Jason Todd Red Hood approach, his helmet tucked under his arm. His leather jacket gleamed under the moonlight, and his signature smirk was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Jason,” you said, trying to sound neutral.

“Y/N,” he replied, his voice lower, smoother, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Why are you here?” Nightwing asked, crossing his arms and stepping slightly in front of you, the protective older brother act kicking in.

“Intel,” Jason said, holding up a USB drive. “Thought you might want to know the gang you just took down has ties to a bigger fish—one that’s gunning for Y/N.”

You froze. “Me? Why?”

Jason’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a rare seriousness. “You’ve been on their radar since you broke up their weapons shipment last month. They don’t like loose ends.��

Nightwing immediately turned to you, his face dark with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you admitted, guilt creeping in. “I can handle myself.”

“Clearly not,” Jason muttered, earning a glare from Nightwing.

“Enough,” you snapped, stepping between them. “If they’re coming for me, we deal with it together. No macho posturing.”

Jason’s lips twitched as though he wanted to argue but thought better of it. “Fine. But you’re sticking with me tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Nightwing said, stepping forward.

“Relax, Goldilocks,” Jason said with a smirk. “I’m better at keeping people alive when they’re in the crossfire. You can’t argue with that.”

The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I’ll go with Jason. We don’t have time for this.”

Nightwing looked like he wanted to protest but relented with a nod. “Fine. But you call me the second anything goes wrong.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “She’ll be fine, Dick. Trust me.”

Hours later, you and Jason were staking out a warehouse where the gang’s leader was supposed to be hiding. The silence between you was tense, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Why do you always do that?” you asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Do what?” Jason replied, not looking at you.

“Push people away.”

He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I don’t push people away.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you’re such a social butterfly.”

Jason finally turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “I push people away because it’s easier than watching them get hurt because of me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. You softened, stepping closer. “Jason… You don’t have to do everything alone. You don’t have to protect everyone by shutting them out.”

His gaze flickered to your hand, which had unconsciously reached for his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he took your hand in his, his grip firm but hesitant.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, “you’re the exception.”

Your heart fluttered, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. Jason immediately pulled away, his gun in hand as he scanned the shadows.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his tone all business now.

You nodded, pulling out your own weapon as the two of you moved into the warehouse.

By the end of the night, the gang was neutralized, and you’d escaped with only a few minor scrapes. Jason had been relentless in keeping you safe, his protective side both frustrating and endearing.

As he walked you back to your apartment, you found yourself smiling despite the chaos.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, glancing at you.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Just thinking about how Nightwing’s going to give me an earful for trusting you.”

Jason smirked, his confidence returning. “Let him. You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

You stopped at your door, turning to face him. “Thanks, Jason. For everything.”

He hesitated, then leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, Y/N.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving you with a heart that felt impossibly full.

[gublernatural]

Hiii! I absolutely love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something about Spencer reid and reader who have just started dating and they get into their first ever argument and it’s a bit angsty but cute(?) cause he gets all worried while reader is more experienced in the relationship department so she (or gn!reader, your choice) doesn’t worry as much cause she knows it doesn’t mean they’re over? And then he gets all pouty and clingy when they make up cause he hated being far from her sm🫶 I know its very specific and idk weird so its totally okay if you don’t wanna write it but I’d really appreciate it!!!

as an insecure certified lover girl i love this request and i am so sorry it took me so long to get to <3

spencer was not expecting you to leave. to argue, to complain, even to berate, but to leave? the thought the didn’t even cross his mind.

the argument had started over something stupid, probably like a teasing remark that had gone too far, or the fact that he had been nagging you about doing the dishes. he wasn’t sure. all that filled his mind now was the fact that you walked out the door and slammed it behind you. he wasn’t sure where you went to, or if you were coming back.

yet, he was frozen in place. his knees had begun to shake as tears started to well up in his eyes. for a genius, you are really fucking stupid, he thought. he couldn’t believe he blew things with you, already.

you two hadn’t officially been together long. only around 3 months, but had spent much more time together prior to that. he was truly falling for you, something he wasn’t expecting to do. he loved the way you laughed and the way you listened to him. he loved that you were always there to greet him with a wide smile and a tight hug when you he came back from cases. he loved being around you and he loved the positive energy you put out.

and he just ruined all of that over some stupid argument.

spencer was rarely one to be unsure. after all, he is a genius, so there wasn’t many things he didn’t know. but, standing alone in front of his apartment door, he was clueless. should he run after you? should he wait it out? should he start packing up all of the things you’ve left at his apartment over these three months? he didn’t know.

so, like with most things he didn’t know, he was going to research. sure, to the common person googling “what to do after a fight with your girlfriend” would be corny, maybe even a little dumb, but not to spencer. when he couldn’t figure stuff out, he found other sources that could. so that’s what he was trying to do now.

much to spencer’s dismay, he was met with a whole bunch of editorials. not a single academic paper, dissertation, or research project had been conducted on the topic. so, he took what he could get and began reading over the newest People Magazine article titled “steps to making your girlfriend happy after being a bad boyfriend”.

he wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading, or how many different pop culture magazine websites he’d accidentally signed up for on his old desktop by the time his phone rang. it startled him, but he moved quickly to get it, assuming it was hotch calling him to come in for a case.

his heart sped up but his stomach dropped when he saw your first name, with the little otter emoji next to it. you had picked it, spencer didn’t even know there was an otter emoji.

his thumb slid over the answer button as quickly as he could move it, but once he brought the phone up to his ear, spencer couldn’t find any words.

the line was silent for a minute. you weren’t sure if he was even breathing on the other side. you wanted to give yourself time to cool off, separate from spencer. his little remark about your poor cooking skills had gotten to you, and you didn’t want it to become a massive argument. you didn’t know that spencer had spiraled after you left.

“are you going to come over or what?” you couldn’t help but let the residual anger you were holding slip out. despite this, spencer’s breath caught in his throat. you heard him take a deep exhale before saying, “you want me to come over?”

the desperation in his voice was so apparent, it broke your heart. any anger you were holding onto, or any bitterness about the comment he made completely wiped away when you heard spencer’s voice. you guessed that he had probably been crying. you softened your tone, and spoke slowly as you answered him, “of course i want you to come over, spence. we don’t get to have two sleepovers in a row very often.”

spencer’s hand was shaking as he listened to your words. he thought for sure you were going to break up with him. all he said was, “i’m on my way.” before hanging up.

you shouldn’t have been surprised at spencer throwing himself in your arms when you opened the door for him. he always craved physical touch, despite his fear of germs. he knew you and he cherished you, and all he wanted was to be close to you.

your hand snaked around his back as he buried his head in your shoulder. you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tears escaping from him. he wasn’t sobbing, there was just other way for him to have the emotional release he needed than to allow his tears to fall. your hand rubbed lovingly over his back, letting him adjust to being back with you.

“i’m so sorry,” he muttered against you. his hands were balled up between you two and you could feel him nervously squeezing his fists tighter. “spencer, it’s okay,” you assured.

you pulled away from him, only to wipe his tears away and move his hair out of his face. despite his height, he looked so tiny and vulnerable. “i didn’t mean to upset you,” he whined. “it’s okay,” you repeated, grabbing his hand to move him to the sofa.

you sat across from him, but he stared at the floor. “i thought you were breaking up with me,” he muttered. his voice was quiet and gentle. you couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “why would i do that?” you moved closer to him, tucking his hair behind his ear to get him to look at you. “i-i don’t know! you just left and you were angry and i thought you weren’t coming back,” tears were filling up his eyes again as he finally met your gaze.

“spence,” you cooed, “couples fight and sometimes they need space. a little argument like that is nothing. we’re okay,” you promised him. he nodded, then reached out to pull you into his chest. “i don’t like when you storm out like that,” he said. “‘m sorry,” you mumbled against him. he just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

[seumyo]

tokoyami taking care of you when you’re sick.

“You look like you’re ready to ascend to the afterlife,” Tokoyami said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“Maybe I am, Fumi. Maybe this is it for me.”

“You have a mild fever and a sore throat. Hardly fatal.”

“But it feels fatal,” you whined, your voice scratchy. “I’m so weak. I don’t even have the energy to do my nails!” You wiggled your bare fingers in the air for emphasis, looking utterly defeated. “Ugh, they’re naked.”

He tilted his head, his beak twitching in what might have been amusement. You could hardly tell. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not. I can feel my soul leaving my body, Fumi. I’m… so… cold.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the extra blanket folded at the end of your bed, draping it over you with a sigh. “There. Better?”

“Thank you. I felt like I needed to tell you about my last will and testament.”

“Your sense of drama is impressive,” Tokoyami replied, his tone dry.

“It’s a gift.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry, Fumi. I’ll haunt you lovingly.”

He reached for the tissue box and handed it to you. “You’re not haunting anyone. Blow your nose.”

With a pout, you accepted the tissues and complied. “Ugh, even my sneezes aren’t cute right now,” you muttered, your cheeks flushed not from embarrassment but from your fever.

“Your sneezes are rarely cute,” Tokoyami pointed out.

“Rude,” you sniffled.

Just as you were about to unknowingly fall into a deep slumber, Tokoyami reached for the small tray he’d brought with him, holding a bowl of soup he’d made earlier.

“You need to eat first,” he said. “Eat, then sleep.”

You stared at it like it was the most daunting task in the world. Plus, your exhaustion most likely killed your appetite.

“I don’t think I can lift the spoon.”

He sighed again but didn’t argue. Instead, he carefully picked up the spoon and held it to your lips. “Open.”

You paused. “You’re feeding me?”

“Would you rather starve?”

“No?” So you did as told.

Tokoyami fed you a spoonful of warm soup, a recipe he had to call his mother for, satisfied that you’re complying. “See? Not so hard.”

“Thanks, Fumi. You’re the best nurse ever.”

“I aim to serve,” he replied dryly, though you could tell he was pleased.

Such dramatics.

“Fumi?”

You looked at him with bleary eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light illuminating your room. “Fumi,” you said again just as he finished setting the tray aside.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t make it… promise me you’ll keep my sticker collection safe.”

Tokoyami stared at you, his expression utterly unamused. “You’re going to make it.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“I’m not ready to take responsibility for your sticker collection. That is a big responsibility, even for me.”

You laughed, though it was a weak and raspy sound. “You’d love it! There’s so much glitter.”

“Glitter is not my aesthetic.”

“Well, maybe it should be.”

“Well, you should rest,” he shook his head, gently adjusting the blanket around you. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

As the hours went on, you grew quieter, your usual energy completely sapped by your cold. Tokoyami stayed by your side, of course, reading quietly while you dozed off just to make sure that there wasn’t anything too concerning with your cold.

He wishes that your sickness would go away sooner because he can’t stand seeing you like this. Though you can always count on him to take care of you, just like in the future vows of, “In sickness, and in health.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[mywritersmind]

DOOMED FOR ONE ANOTHER - LN4

summary : Forced to never forget. He loved her, she loved him. It seemed easy but the moment those words met the cool air, everything changed. They had the type of love that wasn’t in story books about romance, it was the type that was in horror stories.

listen up : crazy moody today ig. hope u like bc it’s actually interesting and deep for once. dual pov!!

word count : 2040

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time they met, he saw her sitting at the bar.

She was alone, in a cocktail dress with her legs crossed, sipping on a martini. There was a faux fur coat hanging over her chair. She wasn’t on her phone, or listening to music, she was just sitting with the world around her.

Lando Norris was well acquainted with the female species. He’s met pretty woman, he’s dated pretty women, he’s fucked pretty women.

She wasn’t just a pretty woman.

“I’m Lando.” She didn’t shake his hand, didn’t smile or giggle… she just nodded.

“I know who you are.” She brought the martini to her lips again and Lando felt his mouth open a bit, “Do you know who I am?”

He slipped into the seat next to her, “No. Should I?”

Then it happened, the corners of her perfectly lush lips tugged upward. “Nope.”

And thus started a beautiful friendship. Yes, I say friendship because neither of them expected to fall in love with each other. Even if everyone seemed to hope they would.

⋆༺

Her apartment was a mess like usual. I pushed open the door with two coffees in my hand, house keys, and the purse she made me bring all the way from Monaco to New York.

I managed to get to her room without stepping on any of her loose clothes, books, or instruments. She was lying on her bed, her head hanging off the side and her hands lazily strumming her guitar.

She was wearing a pink nightgown that scrunched up on her thighs, a faux fur coat, and headphones. Her head finally tilted back far enough to see me standing there, staring at her.

I used to worry about her a lot because of her reaction time and how she never realized I was staring. Yet I stopped thinking about it after it allowed me to watch her before we would hang out.

That sounds creepy, I know. But just like the first time I met her, I could get a read on her body language or emotions, I would look at her outfit and how much jewelry she would be wearing, I would just look at her for one quiet moment.

“Lan!” She screamed far too loud and stood up at lightning speed, hugging me. “My angel, you’re back!” She grabbed the coffee she knew was hers from my hands and spun around, hopping back onto her bed and sitting on her feet.

I pushed the clothes off her chair and sat on it, “Someone came up to me and asked if I was your friend today.”

I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee, “One day, we’re going to be walking around and people will swarm around you and ask who the idiot next to you is.”

She sighed, sipping her coffee, “And I’d tell them that if they’re true fans, they’d know who my best friend is.” She leaned back on her pillows and stuffed animals.

“Right!” I let out a laugh, “You would definitely say I'm some freak following you.”

Her eyes got serious for a second, “I’d never pretend to not know you, Lando.”

I shook my head, “How’s the writing coming along?”

“If you’ve come here just to bug me about my music, then I will kick you back onto the streets.” She’s a musician.

I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know her… but she had just put out her debut album and I had just officially become an F1 driver.

She claimed she wasn’t a fan of the sport, yet would text me non stop about ‘gossip’ she heard from her ‘credible’ sources. Her sources were F1 twitter.

She let me listen to her music, humming along to the songs without lyrics and singing without any instrument to the songs without background music.

I don’t remember when I fell in love with her. It wasn’t a specific time or place, I just sort of knew one day.

⋆༺

I always loved him in a suit.

I liked his hair and the way the curls just fit with something so neat and tailored to him. Lando looked bored, an expression I didn’t see on his face a lot when he was with me.

But that day and that banquet… it was so slow and I was so off my usual game. I had secrets and Lando could tell. I thought he was going to confront me about them when he brought me outside.

“Lan, there’s a speaker!” I whispered to him as he took my hand.

“When have you ever cared about shit like that? Come on.” His hand was cold, I remember that. I actually remember everything from that night.

We slipped out the back door and he started laughing. I didn’t know why, but I also didn’t ask a lot of questions.

The banquet was in a stuffy hall, but the back garden was beautiful and miles long. I laughed with him, hurrying down the steps as fast as I could in my heels.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “I couldn’t breathe in there.” He runs a hand through his curls, tilting his head back so his Adam's apple is more pronounced and his eyes are looking to the sky.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked because I was getting cold and could tell he needed a change of scenery.

That’s when I noticed a difference. The way he looked at me just then, it was like everything I had dreaded came true in one singular moment. “No.” He had said it quietly but I felt like he had a megaphone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Lando…” I said his full name that time because I wanted him to know that for once in my life, I was being serious. I was warning him.

“I love you.” He was breathless and I'll never forget the look on his face. It was almost as heartbreaking as the look he gave me five seconds later, when I didn’t respond.

I loved him, of course I had.

But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for a relationship or for him. I wasn’t ready for everything to change or for him to suddenly start kissing me instead of hugging.

I wasn’t ready to be loved.

“Please…” He was holding my hands now, “I can’t not love you. I know you love me too.” That made me feel nauseous.

How could he know?

I kept everything close to me and had never tried to kiss him, I never even joked about it!

“I can’t…” Is all I said before pulling my hands away.

His face turned sullen, his arms limp at his sides, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not!” I didn’t mean to say it as defensively as I did.

“Bullshit.” Lando never raised his voice at me, but he did then.

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings!” I stepped farther away, ignoring every instinct to get closer.

His eyes were piercing me, “Tell me you don’t then.”

I was shaking my head as he begged, “Tell me you don’t love me! Say it to my face.” I couldn’t say anything, and he knew me too well because of it. “Break my heart, then. Do it.”

“Lan…”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me!” He stepped closer, his hands going to my arms again, “Fucking break me or never talk to me again! I can’t pretend I don’t love you and I know you can’t stay friends with me when you know that I do.”

His voice broke and my tears started. Lando Norris knew every part of me. He watched my facial expressions, my body language. He watched me get dressed and he watched me break a million guys' hearts.

He watched me loudly do what I love but that was always music, and never him.

That’s why I had to walk away. It’s why I couldn’t admit loving him. It’s why I cut all contact, It’s why I hated myself. It’s why I pretended I didn’t know him, even though he haunted everything in my life.

⋆༺

I love my friends. But I think I'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

Carlos forced me to come to his girlfriend's party. Rebecca is nice and all but as I watch Franco get surrounded by models and Charles whispering in Alexandra’s ear, I’m seriously regretting saying yes.

I’m in a suit and zoning out with champagne in my hand, leaning against the bar as the noise around me gets louder.

“Lando!” I already know it’s Carlos, glancing back to see him hurrying over to me, “Lando!”

“What?” I ask, tired and wishing I was more drunk.

“Rebecca has a girl for you!” my immediate instinct is to run but he slaps his hand onto my shoulder and grips it tightly, “Hey! You’ll love her! She’s a musician and very pretty!”

I groan, “Carlos, no.”

“Mate, come on! You never date and I think you’ll actually love her!” He’s right. I don’t date. I have sex, I hook up, I have benefits but no friends. “It’ll be good for you.” And for a second, I believe him.

Maybe it would be good for me. It’s been over a year since my heart was ripped apart and stomped on by a type b, adhd, singer.

“Just meet her.” He says and I hesitate before shrugging, “Yes! Oh, here they come!”

I stand up straight and sip my champagne, hoping the alcohol will hit me fast. The moment I turn, The moment Rebecca smiles and starts to speak, I can’t breathe.

“Lando this is-” I don’t need to keep listening to know. She’s right there. In front of me.

The girl who ripped my heart out is right there, wearing the same shoes she stomped on it with. I’m not prepared for this, for her. Her face tells me she feels the same way but is far more calm than I am.

When she holds out her hand for me to shake, I feel sick. I shake it, not saying anything. She looks the same… but different.

Her hair is longer and her makeup is done differently. She’s wearing barely any jewelry but I can smell her perfume and I just know it’s the same one I got for her at some corner stone in brooklyn.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” She sounds strong. She sounds like she’s lying, but maybe that’s because she is.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” No one else would be able to tell, but after years of examining her, I don’t miss the way her mouth quirks. I say it because I would never pretend to not know her, no matter how hard it was to make eye contact with her today.

I know Carlos is horrified, “Norris!”

But I don’t care.

For once, I didn’t see her coming. I didn’t get to have that moment of peace where I could revel in her.

I avoided her, mostly. We never ran in the same circle… except for now, I guess… but I saw friends of friends posting about her concerts or new music. I saw her on Dominic Fikes album and I saw her kissing his cheek two days after that.

I heard the rumors and the second that one of the guys called her pretty, I clocked out.

I never saw her in person though. I would be paranoid every time I was at a music festival or even saw someone wearing close to the same faux fur jackets she adored. But I haven’t seen her for over a year, until now.

Rebecca looks uncomfortable and Carlos looks straight up scared. I’m lucky that they get pulled away but I'm unlucky that she gets closer to me. She used to tease me the same way she’s looking at me now.

I expect her to say something profound, maybe even an apology. But then I remember who she is. That Cheshire-like smile greets her lips again as her thick lashes blink, “I’ve always loved you in a suit.”

[janeyseymour]

Ease My Mind

Summary: Life hasn't always been easy. Melissa is there to help ease your mind. (With a cover of the Ben Platt song attached because @countrygalbitch asked for it :))

WC: ~2.85k

Life hasn’t always been easy for you. No. Between your home life being an absolute disaster, and then your own mental health being down the drain, it can be exhausting being you. Sometimes you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the day- whatever those other powers above you may be, they are not working in your favor.

In your later years, someone comes along to help ease your mind, but it hasn’t always been that way. There is one thing- one person you should say, that gets your mind to calm, your shoulders start to loosen up, your heart start to feel a little lighter: your wife, Melissa Schemmenti. You haven’t always had her though. And before she came out of nowhere, your days and nights were long, wondering and worrying about every little thing that could potentially come at you in life.

Most days, I wake up with a pit in my chest. There are thoughts that I can’t put to rest. There’s a worry that I can’t place. Most nights, I am restless and quiet won’t come, so I lay there and wait for the sun. There’s a trouble that won’t show it’s face. 

After finally falling asleep around three in the morning, only to return back to the waking world at approximately 5:30, you wake up with a pit in your chest. And immediately, your mind is whirring to life. There are about a billion thoughts in your head at once, and yet you can’t seem to make a single worry out. Why can’t you place what has you so anxious today? Could it be your mother? Your father? Maybe your work? No. So, why are you feeling this way?

Last night, you were sure that it was going to be another sleepless night. Your body was restless, your mind was restless. Quiet in your head seemed near impossible. So you had tossed and turned, waiting to eventually see the sun rise and start another day filled with copious amounts of coffee and attempts to keep your mood in check at work with your students. The thing that was troubling you just refuses to show its face- only leaves you with small thoughts that lead you in circles as you try to figure out exactly what has you so upset in your subconscious. Eventually though, your body had given into complete and utter exhaustion. Your mind went blank, and you slipped off into a restless sleep.

Today is going to be a shit show. You can feel it in your bones. It’s going to be deeply and truly a hard day to get through. Your mind only continues to torment you as you drive to work and walk into the staff room, only to realize that you had left your lunch on your kitchen counter. And for whatever reason, this absolutely sets you off. 

You came out of nowhere, and you cut through all the noise. I make sense of the madness when I listen to your voice. Darling, only you can ease my mind. Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind. When they pull me under and I can feel my sanity start to unwind, Darling, only you can ease my mind.

Your head is foggy, you don’t quite remember where you are, and your lungs feel like they’re both filled with water and on fire simultaneously. Your chest is incredibly tight. Your eyes screw shut, your knees give way, and you find yourself in a heap on the floor as you try to pull yourself together. It feels impossible. It feels like you’re going to-

“Hun?” a voice cuts through all of the noise in your head. “Y/N?”

You know that voice- that’s the last voice you want to hear right now in the midst of the chaos that you’ve found yourself in. That’s your new girlfriend: Melissa Schemmenti. She doesn’t know that you deal with these attacks. You suppose now she does though. And that throws you for a tizzy in of itself.

“Oh, hun,” the redhead deposits her bag on the empty chair next to you before lowering herself to the ground. “Y/N.”

You can’t quite find it in you to respond verbally. It would take too much effort that you simply don’t have at the moment. You only screw your eyes shut tighter. It’s when you feel that warm hand on your girlfriend’s slip into your own that something gets through to you. You’re safe; you’re okay, or you will be. She squeezes your hand gently.

As opposed to trying to snap you out of this episode you’re in, or attempt to calm you with those stereotypical ways of trying to pull someone out of an anxiety or panic attack, Melissa simply speaks. She tells you of what she’s going to do with her students that day, lunch for the day, what she’s going to make the two of you for dinner tonight, how her commute was getting into school today. And in just listening to her voice, you start to make sense of all of the madness. She begins to ease your mind in a way that no one else had ever done before. Instead of making it worse, she’s able to get you to see a bit more clearly again.

You aren’t aware of it, what with your eyes still being closed as you continue to attempt to ground yourself, but each time a coworker comes through the door, Melissa just gives them a look that tells them to leave and grant you some privacy while continuing to speak with that soft and warm tone that she reserves for only her favorite people.

And when you feel that you’re safe to open your eyes again without being flooded with the thoughts that have been swirling through your head for the last… ever, you see those beautiful green eyes filled with such love and care for you.

“Hey,” Melissa’s voice is smooth like honey. “There’s my girl.”

You just quirk your lips to the side and wipe at the tears that had fallen during your attack with the hand that isn’t in your girlfriend’s.

“You’re okay,” she says quietly as she squeezes your hand softly again. “You’re alright.”

When you sit there for a few minutes, the only thing interrupting the silence of yours being your sniffles. And then when you feel strong enough, you whisper out, voice rough, “I’m good.”

Emerald eyes look into your own. “Are you?”

You bite your lip nervously, but you nod. “Yeah.”

“You were having quite the episode when I walked in,” Melissa tells you gently. “I don’t know if I would call that ‘good’.”

You shrug. “Gotta be. Kids are coming soon.”

“Yeah,” your girlfriend sighs. “You ain’t teaching today. I’m takin’ you home.”

“I- I have to teach,” you protest weakly as you lean against the cabinets behind you. Panic attacks always leave you utterly exhausted.

“There’s no way you can teach after that,” the redhead tells you. “Not to the degree that your students need you to be at. It’s okay- I’ll have Ava watch our classes while I take you home, and then she can cover your classes. Okay?”

Any fight that was in your body leaves as you sigh and hang your head softly. “Fine.”

You feel a gentle kiss being pressed to your temple, and then you feel her guiding you into a chair so you aren’t on the floor of the staffroom anymore. The second grade teacher promises to be back as soon as she can before she walks off in search of the principal.

It only takes her a few minutes to return back to you. You’re exactly where she left you, and there’s a vacant look in your eyes. It’s clear to your girlfriend that you may be there physically, but mentally you aren’t.

“C’mon, babe,” Melissa whispers as she forces you to stand. You lean against her as she grabs your things for you, and then she’s taking you out to her car.

You close your eyes as soon as you’re in the car. Her hand slips into yours again, and she squeezes every few seconds to keep you as grounded as possible. You’re only aware of where you are when the car is in park.

“Lis,” you sigh quietly. She had brought you to her house, not your own.

“I told you I was takin’ you home, didn’t I?” Melissa smiles gently. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside and comfortable, and then I have to head back to work.”

Once you’re changed into a pair of your girlfriend’s sweatpants and your favorite sweatshirt of hers, Melissa gets you to bed. She kisses your head softly with quiet words of affirmation before slipping out and back to the school.

You must fall asleep at some point, exhausted from this morning’s episode, because the next thing you know, you’re waking up to your girlfriend climbing into her bed with you.

“Hey,” you say numbly.

Melissa doesn’t say anything just yet. She only continues to climb into bed and wrap her arms around you before planting a kiss to your shoulder blade.

I’ll admit, for a moment I felt so afraid, just to show you the mess that I made. There are pieces I usually hide. But when you collect me with your steady hand, with a language that I understand, I feel put back together inside.

The two of you lay there for longer than you probably should, but Melissa isn’t forcing you to speak; isn’t making you talk about what happened today. And you know you should. You owe her the explanation and apology. But in doing that… you have to admit that you’re a mess. You have to show her the pieces of yourself that you usually hide. 

You aren’t even aware that your breathing gets slightly shakier and more shallow until your girlfriend pulls you against her and begins to take deep breaths in hopes of getting you to follow.

There aren’t any words. It’s just this unspoken language that the two of you have down to a science that grounds you.

You turn to face her when you’re ready. “I- I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’,” she tells you with conviction. “I get it. I’m still here for you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you kiss her softly. “But you do deserve to know what happened today, and what’s been happening since… as long as I can remember. And then you can decide if this is something you signed up for or not.”

You tell her everything about your past. How you grew up, how all of the things that had happened affected you, what you deal with in terms of anxiety disorders and insomnia. How… how most days you can’t get your mind to rest, and nothing can quite cut through the loudness in your head.

When you expect her to tell you that this isn’t what she signed up for- that she was expecting the usually bright and bubbly woman that she thought you to be and not this hot mess, she just smiles sadly and kisses your head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were struggling,” Melissa mumbles into your hair. “But thank you for telling me everything.”

“I- I know that this isn’t what you were expecting, so if you want me to leave… I will. Just say the-”

“It might not be what I was expecting,” the redhead tells you. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere, hun. I’m staying right here.”

And she did. Melissa stayed by your side through that episode and the next draining few days just as she promised. When you were feeling more like yourself again, you almost expected her to leave you. But she didn’t. Instead, the two of you grew closer. Eventually, you marry her. You’re Mrs. Schemmenti now.

Life as Mrs. Schemmenti tends to be a bit easier than life before this red-haired angel came out of nowhere and into your life, but you still have moments. And each and every time, she’s there for you- just as she had promised you the first time she had witnessed you in the midst of your mind, and then again when she read her vows to you. 

You came out of nowhere, and you cut through all the noise. I make sense of the madness when I listen to your voice. Darling, only you can ease my mind. Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind. When they pull me under and I can feel my sanity start to unwind, Darling, only you can ease my mind.

Your daughters are running amuck through the house as they usually do. And while normally you can just take a deep breath and attribute it to the fact that they’re four and this phase won’t last forever, today is not a day that you can do that. Not with everything else going on in your life right now. Not with how you’re hosting the entire Schemmenti family on top of your family for Christmas, along with Barbara and Gerald, and the house is an utter disaster despite the fact that you’ve been cleaning for the last week. Not with the way that you spent Monday and Tuesday at Abbott all day for parent-teacher conferences when you should’ve been preparing for a feast.

You don’t know what exactly sets you off, if you’re being honest. One second you’re mashing potatoes, the next you’re hyperventilating on the floor of your kitchen.

“Mi amore?” Melissa calls from her place in the basement, trying to grab any last minute ingredients the two of you may need.

When you don’t respond immediately, perfectly sculpted brows furrow, and your wife climbs the steps. She can hear your labored attempts at breathing before she can see you. And when she does, she can only sigh. Melissa knew that this was a lot on you, but you had insisted you would be okay.

“Ellie,” your wife calls for one of your twins. “Get Mommy’s phone, and call Aunt Barbie for me?”

Your oldest comes flying into the room with the cell phone and a grin, but she freezes upon seeing you in such a state. “Momma?”

“Momma just needs a breather right now,” Melissa tries to placate as she reaches for the phone with one hand, and your body with the other. “Go play with Millie.”

“Hello?” Barbara answers the phone.

“I need you to come over now,” your wife gets straight to the point. “Entertain the girls while I take care of Y/N for a little bit.”

“Is she okay?”

“N- not really,” Melissa mumbles as she props you against her and begins breathing deeply. “Found her on the kitchen floor in one of her attacks.”

“Gerald and I will be there in ten.”

“Doors unlocked. Thanks.”

The girls’ Uncle Ger takes the girls out of the house on a walk while Barbara swoops in and begins cooking the way that she knows the Schemmentis like. Your wife takes you to the couch, where your eyes are finally starting to look like they’re coming back to life.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Melissa promises you quietly. “I’m here, Barb and Ger have everything with the girls and dinner handled, you’re okay.” She continues to just speak those words to you softly until you lunge forward and hold her as though she would disappear if you let go.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You- you always know how to cut through all the noise in my head.”

“You wanna talk about what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” the redhead asks as she repositions the two of you so you’re laying on the couch.

You shrug. “Just… everything lately has me questioning my sanity. I can feel it starting to unwind, but then… I don’t know how you do it, Lis. You come out of nowhere every time I start to spiral, and you cut through all the noise. It’s like… as soon as I can hear your voice, I can start to make sense of all of the madness in my head.”

“What kind of wife would I be if I couldn’t help you?” Melissa teases gently as she rakes her fingers through your hair. 

“I- every time I start to feel lonely and my thoughts begin to pull me under… you’re right there.”

“I’ll always be here to help ease your mind, mi amore.”

And she is. Melissa is always there. She’s the only one who can ease your mind in such a way that brings you back to Earth when you feel like you’re six feet under. You don’t quite know what you did to deserve her, but she’s your saving grace. 

Darling, only you can ease my mind. Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind. When they pull me under and I can feel my sanity start to unwind, Darling, only you can ease my mind.

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