#but i am dreading for the ending seeing all situation of current scenarios

[trendingdrama]

QUEEN OF TEARS 눈물의 여왕 (2024)

BONUS :

[chaolie]

FWT Week 2022, Day 2 - Fraternize with the Enemy

Well. Uh. Yeah so this is another thing for @fwt-week's fwt week but uhhhh I got a bit carried away I guess? So don't be surprised if the next one is going to be a bit late. Anyway, you can also find this on my Ao3!

I wrote 2 more fics that continue this story! [2] [3]

Characters: Fundy, Dream, (Mentioned) Wilbur Words: 4.4k (I am so sorry I do not know how this happened either) Summary: Fundy and Dream get caught in the rain, and neither is up for a fight. That does mean they have to share their shelter, though…

Well, Fundy had clearly made a mistake.

“Oh, I’ll go for a walk!” he had decided a few hours prior. “A nice evening stroll through the woods, what could go wrong with that?” he had reasoned. Not in those words exactly, and maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe saying “What could go wrong?” would’ve reminded him about the monsters that roam the forest at night, or made him check the sky for darker clouds at the very least.

It was too late to reminisce, though.

He was currently too busy running for his life from countless monsters through the heavy rain, slipping on the muddy ground and stumbling over roots every couple of steps. He really should’ve just stayed home. Now he was soaked, his uniform would probably forever be stained by at least some mud, and if he somehow didn’t get shot by a skeleton or eaten by a spider any moment now, he’d end up catching a cold either way.

Or maybe he really wouldn’t get that far. Death became a much more likely scenario when he stumbled over another root, but failed to catch his balance and found himself tumbling down a small hill this time. He spotted a creeper in his way and barely had enough time to swear before he crashed into it. For a moment, they both tumbled, but then the dreadful hiss came…

And then, the monster jerked violently before going still, the noise slowly fading out. That still left Fundy lying on the ground, sore and muddied, but it was better than exploding for sure. Except, something must’ve killed the creeper, and the silhouette standing over him didn’t resemble any of the monsters he knew-

“Are you okay?” the person, person standing over him asked, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He could barely hear them over the rain, but they were here and they probably just saved his life. He nodded.

“...Yeah, thanks,” he responded after getting a bit closer to catching his breath.

“Good,” the stranger nodded, briefly pausing to look around. Finally, he leaned over Fundy and offered him a hand. “We need to find a shelter,” he declared, and Fundy knew he was right, so he took his hand. He was pulled back onto his feet within seconds.

…The stranger’s hands were warm, that was the first thing Fundy noticed. So was his voice, he thought, warm and reassuring. It was hard to make out his face, but there was a certain glint in his eyes that Fundy simply couldn’t miss while the man looked around, checking for any dangers. Lastly, Fundy finally acknowledged just how strong the stranger was.

Well. Getting rescued in a situation like this was always welcome, but getting rescued by such a handsome guy-

“I swear there was a cave somewhere around here, we could take shelter there,” the stranger turned around while he tried to see through the darkness and the rain.

That was the moment that Fundy noticed something at the side of his rescuer’s head. An eerily familiar mask-

Oh. Oh no.

His life flashed in front of his eyes when he realized that the handsome guy that saved him just happened to be Dream, of all people! Dream, the man in charge of the nation L’Manburg was at war with! The one person who, the moment he’d recognize him, would probably kill him before Fundy would know what was happening.

…Was it too late to run? Maybe with the weather, Dream wouldn’t bother chasing him?

“There it is,” the man’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Fundy cautiously followed his gaze and sure enough, something that looked like a cave wasn’t all that far from them.

He wanted to run, but… Dream hadn’t recognized him yet, and if he could get somewhere to hide from the rain for a moment, it was really tempting. Besides, it was dark, so the man probably couldn’t see too many of his features, not to mention his now-muddy L’Manburg coat, and…

“I’m right behind you,” he said, and that was enough to have Dream start walking to the cave.

For a moment, Fundy eyed the sword in Dream’s hand. His grip didn’t seem tight, so he felt safe assuming that the man was under the impression that he too belonged to the Greater SMP. Normally, he’d be offended, at least to some extent, but in this situation, that clearly worked in his favor, so he said nothing.

He wouldn’t stick around for too long, just enough to catch his breath and maybe dry a bit. He’d see if the rain would let up, and if it didn’t, he’d probably leave in less than an hour either way. Maybe he’d lie, say he’s off to look for firewood or… something, or maybe he’d just get up and bolt without an explanation.

Or he’d just sneak away! Dream could barely see him as it was, so inside the cave, there was a high chance he wouldn’t notice him at all! So if he was just quiet enough- The moment that Dream made it into the cover the cave offered, he attached his sword to his belt and took something else out of his pocket. Fundy stopped in his tracks, just a few feet away from that sweet shelter from the rain…

With dread, he watched Dream light a torch with a flint and steel that he quickly slipped back into his pocket.

Well. This was as far as Fundy was getting, wasn’t it?

“Are you-” Dream turned to face him, and he fell silent. With a squint, he lifted the torch to light up more of their surroundings.

The light easily reached Fundy’s uniform, and even if the mud coating it was thick, it was still easily recognizable. They both spent quite a while just staring at each other, Dream slowly going over the new information in his head while Fundy desperately tried to find an out from this situation. He briefly looked himself over and spotted his old bow dutifully hanging at his side. 

He took it with him out of habit, he didn’t even bring any arrows along… but now, it could be enough.

He jumped back and quickly lifted it, pretending to pull back an arrow he really wished he had. Dream, in turn, staggered deeper into the cave, but paused after only a couple of steps. Fundy tried to come up with an “intimidating” way of offering to turn tail and run, but before he could get those words out, Dream… lifted his hands in surrender? His expression was intensely unreadable, but it clearly wasn’t mocking.

“...Well,” the man started. Fundy stayed silent, focusing on not making it obvious that he had no projectiles. The moment Dream realized, this would be over. “...How about a truce?”

This was not… Did that mean Fundy could still take shelter in the cave? At least for a moment?

No, this was a trap. It must’ve been a trap. He’d be foolish to even consider-

“...Okay. Leave your sword by the entrance, then,” he demanded, trying to put on an intimidating voice and failing miserably. Still, he watched as Dream slowly lowered a hand, lifted his sword, and rested it against the cave wall before stepping away.

“There,” he answered, and now that was an intimidating voice. “Your turn.”

“...Fine,” Fundy nervously mimicked the motion of sliding an arrow out of a bow and slipping it into some imaginary container again. He finally stepped into the cover of the cave and rested his bow on its other wall. “Truce.”

Dream finally lowered his hands and held one of them in Fundy’s direction, inviting a… handshake? To seal the truce, Fundy supposed. Still cautious, he approached and offered his own hand. Dream’s grip was firm, but he didn’t use the opportunity to throw Fundy against the nearest wall or pull him close enough to stab him, so it was… fine, Fundy supposed.

“You don’t have a sword?” the man asked once their handshake ended. He started walking deeper into the cave, and, not wanting to lose sight of him, Fundy followed.

“No,” he confirmed. “It’d be too dangerous,” he mocked his father’s words before realizing that it was not what he should be telling his enemy. “...For your side. We’re not… that cruel,” he clarified, and oh, it wasn’t any better, was it?

Dream laughed.

It wasn’t a mocking laughter, but a genuine wheeze followed by a few light chuckles, as if Fundy had just told the greatest joke ever. The cave’s echo carried the noise and for a moment, Fundy felt surrounded by it, as if it was the only sound that mattered in the entire world, drowning out the noise of the rain with that sweet-

Yeah. Yeah. It was the echo. Nothing more. He collected himself fast enough to convince himself of that.

“Sure,” Dream nodded, and he thankfully didn’t seem to have noticed anything off about Fundy’s reaction. “So they have you shooting a bow instead?” he asked, and Fundy reluctantly nodded before realizing that he was being interviewed for information about L’Manburg’s defenses. “Is that why your… coat is different?”

“Oh, no,” he shook his head. “It’s a… personal choice,” he declared, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. “But what about you? Do you only do sword fighting?” he asked before Dream could continue his questioning.

“...No,” the man shook his head. “I also use axes. Crossbows, sometimes. They’re more reliable than bows, in my experience,” he elaborated, and that was… a surprising amount of information to volunteer? “I’m still surprised your president lets you add your own touches to his great uniforms, though,” he steered the conversation back.

“Well, it’s not like he can kick me out, and he prefers this over my jacket,” Fundy shrugged. He kind of hoped Dream would ask about that jacket. It was a nice jacket Fundy wouldn’t mind describing.

“Right. Too low on people to kick anyone out, huh?” Dream raised his eyebrows, and oh, he was absolutely interrogating him with this. Even worse, that slight worked.

“No, we have plenty,” Fundy replied, but Dream continued to look at him with anticipation, expecting more of an explanation. An explanation Fundy didn’t owe him in the slightest, it didn’t matter if the man believed him- “...I’m his son,” he admitted.

“Alright,” Dream nodded. “That explains things,” he added, and Fundy frowned at him. “Why he doesn’t want you on the actual battlefield,” he clarified.

“That’s not-” Fundy cut himself off. “Believe what you want,” he muttered instead. He was not giving Dream any more information, he refused.

“I will,” the man nodded, sitting down and placing the torch in front of him. Reluctantly, Fundy sat down on the other side, keeping further away from the light just in case.

Neither of them spoke after that. What else was there to say? Fundy had figured out Dream’s little plot to get information out of him, so he wouldn’t answer any more questions, and there wasn’t really a reason for Dream to volunteer any information.

Their truce might’ve left them in a slightly awkward situation, but at least they were both dry. At least they were out of the rain and safe from the monsters. Their clothes were slowly drying, and it was almost… nice, Fundy thought. If he looked past the fact that it was Dream sitting in this cave with him, it was basically a nice situation. And he could easily look past that one inconvenient fact by simply looking away for what must’ve been at least an hour.

“...Fundy,” Dream was the one to break the silence. His voice sounded stern, almost upset, so Fundy decided against ignoring him.

The moment he looked at Dream, it became obvious that he was the only one finding this situation remotely comfortable. The Greater SMP’s ruler’s clothes still looked absolutely drenched and he could swear there was a slight shivering motion he could see.

“How aren’t you cold?” the man asked in a way that made the question sound more like an accusation. Normally, Fundy would’ve been absolutely horrified, but right now, he was honestly doubting that the man could do him any harm.

“Well, our coats are really well made,” he answered. “Thick, warm, good at keeping you dry,” he named, keeping an eye on Dream’s reaction just in case he’d need to run. The man didn’t appear too angered by the answer, though… maybe annoyed? But not furious, so Fundy figured he could take this just a bit further. “Do you want to borrow it?”

The stare Dream gave him was piercing, but the man didn’t bother moving from his spot. This was… strange. Fundy honestly expected to be forced to start running halfway through his first sentence, but… either Dream really respected their truce or he was very tired.

“No,” the man answered sharply, and the tone of his voice convinced Fundy against trying to do anything else that could annoy him. Who knew, maybe one more snide remark would push him over the edge, and then- “...Or…” Dream continued.

Now when Fundy looked at him, he found him looking down in what he could only assume was something between embarrassment and shame.

“...Wait, do you actually want it?” he asked, making sure his offer sounded at least a bit more sincere. For the sake of the truce, of course. He wouldn’t be doing this in any other circumstances.

“...Yes.”

This was certainly… something.

Fundy doubted that this was a trick of any sort. Sure, Dream was apparently good at being a few steps ahead of everyone, but what good would borrowing Fundy’s coat do him? What, would he try to steal it? What would that give him?

“...Okay,” he nodded, carefully sliding his coat off of his shoulders and approaching Dream. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Dream mumbled while he took it. He looked at it for a moment, and judging by his expression, Fundy was beginning to think that the man in front of him was absolutely freezing. Otherwise, there was probably nothing that would make him sigh and reluctantly try it on.

He paused almost instantly, though. He put the coat at his side and looked down at his hoodie, tugging at its neck opening for a moment. Then, without much of a warning, he pulled it off and threw it aside. It landed with a loud, wet thump. Well, at least he had a shirt under that hoodie, Fundy thought while the man picked the coat back up and finally put it on.

They were silent again, but Fundy could swear he saw Dream glancing at him every once in a while. He supposed he was waiting for him to start shivering without his coat, maybe? So that he could get the last word in, a “Who’s cold now?” or “Do you want the soggy hoodie?”. Well, assuming that he was still putting together that great final line, Fundy decided to interrupt him.

“What?” he asked the next time Dream turned his gaze to him. “Still cold? I don’t know what else I can give you. A hug?” he offered.

As teasing, of course. Teasing for some… truce-related reason. He couldn’t quite figure out what that reason was, but he had one for sure.

Maybe it was to see that glare again. To remind himself that Dream wasn’t a friend, but an enemy. Someone who could not be trusted.

That glare looked just like the one Dream gave him when he offered him the coat. Angry, almost vicious… but at the same time, reluctant? Not to mention, no “No” followed the expression. Huh.

“...If you want one, then, uhh…” Fundy hesitantly lifted one of his arms. “...Since we have that truce, I think that’s… fine?”

“Right,” Dream nodded. “The truce.”

For a moment, they stayed still. Then, very reluctantly and slowly, Dream moved closer.

It was awkward. Gods, it was so awkward. Dream was stiff, and his shoulder dug into Fundy’s side painfully. He wasn’t all that much better, though, he was still trying to keep his guard up during a hug and most of his face was still coated by some mud that he was surely getting onto Dream now. It wasn’t horrible, though. It was warm. Very warm, in fact, and Fundy started to wonder if he actually wasn’t cold before. The embrace also let him, well… judge Dream’s physique better, as he’d prefer to say it. Not in a weird way, of course, but that hoodie did absolutely hide-

Okay, no, weird. Fundy stopped his thought process right there and tried desperately to focus on something else. That led to his thoughts wandering, and that, in turn, slowly made him relax as his current situation was pushed into the back of his mind. He could worry about it later. In the morning, preferably.

===

He fell asleep. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but he absolutely fell asleep right there, on the cave floor, with Dream’s arm over his shoulders and his own wrapped around Dream’s waist. He fell asleep.

Apparently, so did Dream.

And now the torch they were by was nearly burned out, his side was sore and stiff, and Dream was still lying on the ground. Unfortunately, Fundy’s attempts at sitting up and moving away to look more casual lacked a lot of grace and were more than enough to disturb the man’s sleep. While he was waking up, Fundy couldn’t help but look at him. At first, it was to know when to start shooting off explanations, but after a moment he found himself just… staring. Looking at this confusedly-handsome man wearing his coat, slowly turning onto his back and rubbing his eyes halfway through a stretch.

Dream was cute, and Fundy felt no shame in admitting that. The regret of letting himself think that hit him just a few moments after, though, and he didn’t dare to continue the topic in his mind. Other than that, it was a fairly… peaceful morning, he supposed. After a very awkward brief talk they were both obviously desperate to end and returning all the clothes they had to their rightful owners, the tension seemed to drop, and slowly, they made their way to the entrance to the cave, where they could collect their weapons.

“...Is the truce still… you know?” Fundy asked once the first stroke of sunshine caught his eye.

“I won’t try anything,” Dream assured him, and there was something in his voice that Fundy couldn't quite place. It's been there the entire morning, but still, no actual description came to mind. 

Well, there was no time to dwell on that. Soon enough, they were at the entrance to the cave, Fundy's bow and Dream's sword resting against opposing walls. They didn't go for them immediately, but instead took a moment to see the world outside of the cave. It wasn't raining anymore and the sun shone down on them brightly, but the ground was still muddied. Some skeleton bones and rotten flesh were skewed all around the place, too, which meant it was probably safe to leave.

Fundy crouched down by his bow and took a moment to praise it in his mind. He hadn't shot it in days, they were too low on arrows for that, but it still managed to save his life. Probably. It definitely got him a shelter at the very least, along with an interesting "truce". It was a good bow.

“Oh, Fundy, here,” Dream said. When Fundy looked at him, he was already standing outside of the cave, sword firmly at his side and a few slightly-muddy arrows in hand. Offering him the arrows.

“...Why?” he asked, but he still took the arrows. They were useful, even if they were probably dropped by some skeleton.

“So that you can actually shoot something if you need to,” Dream answered casually. It didn't sound like a joke, and Fundy froze. “We're quite far from L'Manburg.”

“...So you know about...?” Fundy let his voice trail off just in case Dream didn't know. Maybe those were meant to be extra arrows or... something?

“That you have no arrows. Yes,” Dream responded, and there went all of Fundy's hope. Well, at least the man didn't seem angry. Frustrated a bit, probably bitter about getting fooled so easily, but... not murderous amounts of anger. “I noticed you didn't have any on you back there,” he explained, motioning back into the cave.

“What?” Fundy followed Dream's gesture. When would Dream notice that? The only moment they were close enough was- “Did you search me in my sleep?” he demanded.

“What? No!” Dream was quick to shake his head. That was surprising, honestly. Even if he didn't, Fundy half-expected some strange mind games to follow. Not a clear answer. “I just assumed they would have dug into me while we were, you know. But you were very sof-” the man cut himself off. “...Arrow-less?”

Sure.

Sure, yeah, if Fundy ignored at least half of that statement, it seemed fine. It seemed understandable. It was something he could go ahead and forget about immediately.

“Sure,” he shook his head. He wiped the mud off of the arrows and slipped them into the designated arrow pocket his coat had. “Sure. Thanks for the arrows,” he mumbled.

He picked up his bow and secured it at his side again. He could forget about this entire night, maybe even convince himself that he imagined it? It wasn't like he'd ever find himself in Dream's arms again, he wouldn't even want that, even if Dream was actually really warm and nice, even if that embrace felt much safer than it had any right feeling-

...Yeah. He needed to stop thinking about that fast, or at least pause the stream of thoughts until he was far away, so that Dream couldn't see his expression anymore.

Thankfully, this was over. This was goodbye. Fundy was thankful, not sad.

“Quick question,” Dream said instead of 'Goodbye forever, if you even mention this I will have you killed'.

“Yeah?” Fundy responded, ignoring the slight relief that came with the realization that this was not, in fact, over just yet.

“Do you even know how to use a sword?” Dream asked, and Fundy's hopeful expression fell into a frown. “They're more convenient than bows most of the time,” he pointed out. Fundy stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he should take offense to Dream's question or just settle on honesty to make this probably-last-conversation-between-them a nicer memory.

“...I know,” he sighed after a moment. “But they're too dangerous for me, so... no,” he mocked the last excuse his father gave when he wanted to learn. Dream nodded with a thoughtful hum.

“I could teach you,” he... offered? Or was that just him calling himself oh-so superior when it came to sword fighting. Fundy couldn't tell, but... one option seemed much more probable.

“Yeah, and then I can kill you the next time there's a fight,” he rolled his eyes, and Dream laughed.

“I doubt your father would let you get nearly close enough to use a sword on me,” he crossed his arms, and... Fundy had to admit that he was probably right. “It's just so I'll feel less guilty if you get mauled by a monster if you're out at night again. I gave you arrows, taught you how to use a sword... not my fault anymore,” he shrugged, and Fundy sighed. Sure. Great reasoning. “...So?”

“Wait, is that a real offer?” Fundy asked when it became apparent that Dream was waiting for an answer. The man gave a half-nod along with another shrug. “...Sure, yeah, that sounds nice...?” he agreed after a moment.

Well, he said yes. That meant he wouldn't get to forget about this situation anytime soon, because there'd still be consequences. More meetings. Meetings with Dream. With Dream. Should he go back on his word immediately, and resign? 

That sounded sensible.

That also sounded like not something he'd do. Not after this meeting. This "truce". Now he found himself... curious? He wanted to see where things would go next.

“Great! I'll get the swords,” Dream declared, and Fundy nodded half-absentmindedly. Sure. Might as well happen.

Sneaking out to meet with Dream. Why not? His mind immediately provided at least 7 reasons, but he quickly countered them with "At least Dream's handsome, and his smile looks really cute right now", effectively shutting down his entire brain by the sheer embarrassment using that "reasoning" brought him.

“Alright, I can probably sneak out tonight…?” he suggested because he couldn’t just stay quiet.

“Sounds good,” Dream agreed.

At first, Fundy just smiled, but then his mind wandered to a certain realization. He paused for a moment, thinking back to how all the decisions since they met were made. It was Dream who suggested the truce, Fundy only got to accept and request they leave their weapons. Then it was Dream implying he wanted to borrow the coat or huddle for warmth, Fundy only got to put those requests into words and agree. Now Dream suggested meeting again, all Fundy could decide was the time.

That was probably making Dream more comfortable, being more or less in control of the situation. Well, that was going to change one way or another at some point, and Fundy decided he’d rather know what happens then sooner than later.

He just had to suggest something himself! See how Dream would react to something unpredictable! If it was a bad reaction, he could just never turn up at their next “meeting”! Now he just had to come up with something unexpected!

Not much came to mind. Something about that meeting, maybe? But what? It was technically Dream’s idea, but if he could change something big…

“Great! Maybe let’s make it a date, too?”

Well. Apparently, a part of his mind booted back up. The wrong part.

“Sure,” Dream nodded.

…Was that it? Was that all-

“...Wait, what?” Dream turned to face him.

Well. That was Fundy’s cue to turn tail and run, as he should’ve last evening.

“...Yeah, I need to go, don’t want anyone to notice I was gone- Bye!” he backed away cautiously. Once he was a fair few feet away, he waved his hand before turning and speed-walking away.

Dream didn’t chase him, so… he supposed it wasn’t a bad reaction? He supposed he could still try to sneak out the next night.

He also supposed he had a lot of things to think about until then. A whole bunch of thoughts and feelings to go through. That'd have to happen when absolutely no one could see his face, though. He was not giving anyone an opportunity to tease him about blushing after all he's been through.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, nor promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Suggestive themes but nothing too explicit, scenes containing violence and kidnappings.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong could already sense that something was off the moment he noticed the door wasn't locked and even more worrying was the fact it was slightly ajar. Quickly taking out his gun just in case, he kicked open the door and widened his eyes as it appeared like some struggle took place. Chairs were turnt over, busted picture frames and glass scattered across the floor, and even more terrifying, droplets of blood were seen.

"Y/N!" He quickly remembered about his spouse.

Running into the bedroom, it was in an even bigger disarray than the living room. On the bed, there was a note folded for him to read. Carefully opening it with trembling hands, his eyes took in each letter. Furiously, he crumbled up the paper and quickly dialed his most trusted friend.

"Get the squad ready."

Although you expected that sooner or later you'd be targeted just for the fact you were married to Hongjoong, nothing could have prepared you for it. After all, Hongjoong didn't seem to care much about you, treating your marriage strictly like a business deal and hardly interacting with you. It wouldn't have surprised you if he didn't even care enough to show up and save you.

But you were wrong when he broke in himself and got you safely out of there, despite having suffered quite a few injuries that had you worrying.

"Stop fretting over it, it's just a scratch." He told you when you tried to wipe the blood trickling down the side of his head wound.

"I'm sorry......you're hurt because I-"

"No one is to blame here but me. I chose to go after you and rescue you because I wanted to. If anything, I should be apologizing for getting you in this situation in the first place."

Sighing softly, you tugged at the dirtied sleeves of your shirt.

"It's not like it's really your fault. We were thrown together and naturally they thought they could get the upper hand if they captured me. And to be honest.....you didn't have to save me. I know you don't care about-"

With a loud gasp, you shut up when Hongjoong unexpectedly sat up and kissed you. You were stunned to react and even more shocked by his next words.

"I always cared. And that's precisely why you were kidnapped. From the start, I acted as if I didn't care about you to protect you. They would have never taken you if they thought that I had no regards for you whatsoever. However, I obviously couldn't hide my feelings that well, given the taunting letter they left me. As soon as I read it, I knew I had to get you back to me as soon as possible."

Kissing the top of your forehead, Hongjoong smiled at you for the first time in your marriage life.

"And I'm happy to take you back to our home, where you rightfully belong."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Putting the finishing touches on your makeup and fixing your hair, you beamed with joy at your reflection in the mirror. You felt truly beautiful and walked out into the living room, where your handsome husband was currently on his phone, no doubt talking about some business things with Hongjoong. He seemed to always be busy, never having any time for anything else.

Including you, which somewhat hurt you.

"I'm ready." You told him, shyly tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you hoped he'd like the dress you were wearing, choosing a blue color since you knew it was his favorite.

"Ok. Go wait out in the limousine, I'll be there shortly."

Barely even giving you a glance, he dialed Hongjoong up and continued to further discuss some matters. Sighing softly, you walked rather disappointed out to the car, slamming the door behind you. When Seonghwa joined you a few minutes later, you didn't even care to hide your anger and frustration at him. You still had a scowling look on your face when you arrived at the party, not bothering this time to stick by Seonghwa's side like you usually did other times, playing the role of a perfect and loving wife. And Seonghwa neither noticed nor cared about it. In fact, he never really hid how little your marriage seemed to matter to him. Perhaps he treated it as any other business he owned.

"Such a pity to see such a beautiful lady look so down during such a lovely evening."

Recognizing the voice as Minho, a friend of Seonghwa, you forced a small smile.

"Not really much to be happy about really." You merely stated.

"Is your oh so loving hubby being the usual prince charming he is?" He rolled his eyes, knowing full well just like everyone else how he really treated you.

"What difference does it make? He'll never even look at me."

Unable to let the opportunity go to waste, even if it was his friend, Minho gently caressed your cheek.

"You know....... maybe you should stop trying so hard for a jerk like him....and maybe open your eyes to someone who actually knows you exist."

You were frozen when he leaned in to kiss you, then gasped loudly when none other than Seonghwa pushed him off you, sending Minho crashing onto one of the tables behind him.

"She is my wife! And the next time you touch her, I will cut your hand off!" He warned him.

You didn't even have time to process what was happening as Seonghwa dragged you outside, his grip on your wrist tight and fierce. When you reached the car, you were going to ask him what was going on but you had no time as he pressed you against the car and began to kiss you fervently and hungrily. You were left speechless and breathless, with your legs getting weak as he let out low snarls in between his kisses on your neck.

"Mine.......you're all mine."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Both Yunho and you were beyond nervous at this point, hell you actually felt somewhat terrified. You knew exactly what his parents wanted when they organized this 'family vacation'. This wasn't a getaway to spend time together and they made it obviously clear at dinner when you came back from the bathroom and overheard him arguing with his parents.

"You know I can't ask her to do that!" Yunho adamantly said.

"You've been married for over a year Yunho. It's time and you know it." His mother insisted.

"I will not impregnate her. Have you ever considered her feelings? Maybe she doesn't want kids. Maybe I don't want kids, have you ever thought of that?" He asked them, voice getting more agitated.

"It's both of your duties to produce heirs to keep control and stability in the organization. Your life is at risk on a daily basis. If you die with no children it'll only cause chaos and disruption." His father reminded him.

That was the one thing you dreaded facing since the day you said "I do", having to be forced to become nothing more than a baby maker. Yunho knew from the beginning how uncomfortable you were during your first night together, that's why he ended up sleeping in another room, as he had done every day afterwards, not wanting you to freak out and giving you your space.

But now you both stared at the single king sized bed in your hotel room, reality staring you in the face. Neither of you said a word as you took turns changing and getting ready to go to sleep in the bathroom, Yunho letting you go first. As you crept into the bed, your hands tightly held onto the blanket, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, unaware of anything until you felt the bed shift next to you. You inhaled sharply when you felt Yunho's fingers caress your hair.

"Y/N-"

"Just get it over with will you?! Just knock me up and make your parents happy. I don't care anymore."

Although you tried to sound strong, the tremble in your voice gave you away. You could feel tears starting to well up in your eyes. When Yunho moved to hover above you, you instantly shut your eyes, tears lightly spilling out. You could feel his breath ghost over your lips and then suddenly they moved as he planted the gentlest of kiss on your forehead.

"Good night my dear. I promise I won't take up too much space."

Confused you open your eyes and watched as Yunho turned on his side, facing away from you as he scooted to give you as much room as he possibly could.

"I don't...I don't understand why..." You didn't even know what you were asking at this point.

"I'm not going to be that asshole that will make you do something you're not prepared for. I respect, value and admire you too much to make you go through that. I'll just wait until you're ready."

You weren't going to deny that your heart fluttered at his words.

"But your parents-"

"They can suck it. I've lived this long, I think I'll be fine. They can wait like I'm willing to wait. The only downside is putting up with their bullshit and nagging for disobeying them...."

You could tell he was falling asleep by the way his voice started to mumble and lower in tone, and his tiny yawn made it more obvious. You were prepared for his cute tiny rambling but you didn't expect what he said next.

"But that's what I get for falling in love with you..."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang stared out the spacious window of his office, the glittering city lights looking as splendid as they did every night, bustling with sounds of the inhabitants coming out to party and overall enjoy life. They seemed to be mocking him, mocking him for being happy while he felt miserable and empty inside.

It had been hours since you had already left, your plane had probably already landed back to your hometown and you were now ready to settle into your new life....away from him. He couldn't stop replaying the argument you had just a day ago:

"Can't you at least pretend to care?" You spat out, dropping your fork against the plate of food in front of you.

"If you know what I'm like, why even ask?" Was his only reply.

"Yes I know what you're like! You're cold, stoic, soulless and have no regards for anyone's feelings but your own! Being married to you all these years, I know you better than anyone! But I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you not caring enough to even try." She could feel her voice starting to crack.

Letting out a deep sigh, Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"From the beginning, you knew what you were getting in to. We didn't get married because we were a couple of lovestruck fools wanting to vow our lives to each other. Our parents arranged it and we had no choice. If you were stupid enough to catch feelings well then..."

Finally lifting his gaze to look at you, his eyes were unwavering as he coldly declared:

"That's not my fault. And you can't expect me to reciprocate your feelings when I don't even have any to begin with."

Not taking anymore, you began crying tears of heartbreak, anger, frustration and indignation all at the same time. Standing up, you firmly declared your intent of going back home, not willing to put up or stay with him anymore.

"Ok."

Not even a goodbye, a farewell or even another look at you. Those were his final words before you stormed out and made preparations to leave as soon as possible. Yeosang had spent the entire day pacing back and forth, unable to think or do anything except look at the clock almost every hour. He had been counting the seconds since your flight was scheduled to leave, that's how he knew you were home by then.

He cursed himself for being a coward. For not speaking up and telling you how much you actually meant to him, how scared he was of his feelings for you, and most of all, he hated himself for not running out to stop you. Now you were gone from his life forever........ unless....

"Get my plane ready."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San and you didn't even meet each other until you were both standing at the altar, families ready to join together two criminal organizations to grow their power even further. Both of you looked at each and instantly felt what the other was feeling: shock, denial, insecurity, but most of all, fear. Both of you were afraid of what was going to happen. Though he was trembling just as much as you, San made sure to reach for your hand, squeezing it in his own. With that small gesture, you knew and felt what he was silently saying:

"We're going to get through this together. Just trust me and believe in me. I'll take care of you. You're not alone in this and I'll be right there by your side."

You two got along fairly well, even if there was still awkwardness between the two of you. You were both also still shy around each other that you wouldn't talk unless it was necessary or because something caught one or the other's attention and wanted to share their thoughts out loud, which the other one would try to enthusiastically add on to converse more, but it always ended in awkward laughter.

Yeah. It was extremely awkward. But at least there was no hostility between you two and you guys did enjoy watching movies together at times, hardly speaking a word, but there was no silence at all. You could read each other's minds and feelings all the time. It was truly strange how in tune your thoughts seemed to be at times and scary too. Your mind began to recall times when strange things happened like the time you were craving a certain food and coincidentally, San came later with the exact same food because he got a feeling you wanted some. Or the time you were supposed to go visit extended family but in the end didn't get on the train and went straight home because you felt San needed you. He thought you were crazy, but later that night he was burning up with a fever and you spent your weekend nursing him back to health.

"What did this all mean?" You both thought to yourselves.

"A soulmate is someone that just gets you. It's a connection of minds, a mutual respect, an unconditional love and a total understanding. It's about being yourself and knowing, not only that person is following and understanding your thoughts, but is right there with you, side by side." The actress in the movie you were watching said.

Suddenly everything seemed to click. At the moment both of you felt like the answer to your questions were finally answered. Slowly you both turned and faced one another. Giving you a warm smile as he read your thoughts, San leaned in to cup your cheek with one hand, his thumb drawing circles around it. Brushing his lips against yours, he sighed blissfully as he looked in your eyes.

"My lovely soulmate..."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

When Mingi met you, he was sort of put off by how different you were from him.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, your soon to be wife but please don't think of me as that if you don't want to. Think of me as your friend. I just know we'll get along!"

You were actually squealing and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, almost bouncing up and down with joy while Mingi just stood there stiff as a pole, wondering what the hell made you be so happy and cheerful like that.

"Ok.....ok got it, you can let go now." He tried to squirm out of your embrace, but you merely tightened your grip on him causing him to let out a harsh "oof!" at your strength.

"For such a tiny person, you sure aren't weak." He pointed out.

Married life with you for Mingi was...... different to say the least. He was used to such a gloomy, dark and hostile environment that having a tiny bubble bursting with energy was unusual and not something he was accustomed to. You always greeted him with such enthusiasm and happiness, not to mention you were such a caring housewife, always feeding him and taking care of him. Sometimes Mingi questioned whether you've ever seen the harsh side of the mafia world. Judging by your love for life and others, he guessed no.

And his assumptions were correct when you both were at a party held by some of his other mafia friends. Taking advantage of the occasion, rival gangs infiltrated the building. Storming in, explosions went off in several places, and gun shots were being fired at all directions. Mingi quickly jumped up and tackled you onto the ground, covering your body from the bullets that were being poured out. Taking your hand, he told you to stay down as he safely guided you out of the hall. Once you guys were far away, he quickly sprung up, pulling you up with him as he began running towards the nearest exit, pulling out his hidden gun just in case. You were in shock, even more when you guys passed a couple of dead bodies in the hallway. Feeling sick, you don't even remember how Mingi managed to get you both out of there alive and in one piece before the entire place burst into flames. Staring at the raging fire, you felt like you couldn't breathe, desperately trying to gasp for air.

"Honey, look at me. Look at me ok? You're safe. You're all right and you're going to be all right. Nothing is going to happen to you ok?"

You nodded, trying to choke back tears and forcing a smile on your face, but ultimately failing. Seeing you break down, Mingi immediately pulled you into his arms, his fingers running through your hair as he felt his heart break. You were such a fragile, sensitive and extremely precious person to him. He couldn't bear to see his ray of sunshine and hope in his dark world break down in front of him. He knew had to protect you at all costs and take care of you.

"It's ok my darling angel. I won't let any harm come to you. I swear on my life I'll protect you."

Wiping your tears away, he kissed the top of your head and smiled warmly at you.

"Come on. I'll take you home and have one of those cuddling sessions you always enjoy having."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

You wanted to die, and that wasn't an understatement. You felt utterly humiliated at the fact your parents actually sold you into marriage to some mafia lord's son to pay off their debts. You didn't even have time to process anything, one day you were just bound and stuffed into the back of a car and soon found yourself inside a grand old mansion. You felt alone and scared, unsure of what was going to happen to you. And you were beyond trembling when you met your future husband, expecting some evil and sadistic man when in reality:

"Hi! I'm Jung Wooyoung, your soon to be husband and I can tell we're going to be really happy together!"

He greeted you with just a charismatic enthusiasm, eyes practically beaming when he first saw you.

"Hi, I'm L/N Y/N, the girl that's going to be caged to you for life......or death. Whichever comes first."

He laughed at that, coming closer and squeezed your cheeks.

"You're so cute, I'm already in love with you."

Love? You seriously thought he was insane. You certainly didn't fall in love with him at first sight. And even after months of being married to him, you still didn't felt love towards him, even though Wooyoung tried anything and everything to not only make life easier for you, but in hopes of getting you to reciprocate his feelings.

"Hey Y/N. Look! I got you a present! Open it. I know you'll love it."

You groaned at the thought of another expensive present being given to you. You felt bad that he went through all these troubles when they'd all end in vain. Peeling the ribbon off the huge box, you didn't even get to open the box since the Welsh Corgi inside jumped out and tackled you to the ground. You couldn't help but giggle when it began licking your face, its tail wagging out of joy.

"I knew you'd like him. Now he can keep you company so you won't be lonely while I'm gone."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't let the opportunity pass to poke fun at him.

"Who said I was even going to miss you?" You chuckled, petting the dog's head.

"You never know." Wooyoung insisted.

Leaving you for 5 months, you couldn't believe you actually started to miss his obnoxiously loud presence. Sure your puppy kept you complaining and cuddled you, but it wasn't the same. You hated to admit it....

But you actually wanted Wooyoung to come back and smother you with what you always referred to as his annoying affection.

Opening the front door, Wooyoung called out that he was home. He smiled when he was greeted by his furry friend rather enthusiastically. But he was not expecting for you to run out and jump at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Although he stumbled slightly, he made sure to catch you, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"Y/N are you-?"

He widened his eyes when you crashed your lips on his, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Once getting over the shock, he had a smug grin as he kissed you back.

"Told you you'd miss me."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho terrified you. From day one, you were intimidated by him. He always had a blank expression, hardly talked and he had a reputation for being brutally strong. Obviously you felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, afraid to piss him off. Anytime he called out to you or came near you, your body would jump.

"Y/N..."

Shrieking, you turned around when you felt his hand brush against your lower back. Tilting his head, he raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

"I needed something from the cabinet."

Without breaking eye contact, his hands gripped your waist as he slightly moved you to the side, fingers digging into your skin. After having gotten what he wanted, his thumb poked your nose as he winked at you.

"Thanks doll."

You swore he was teasing you. He'd purposefully use any occasion to show off his strength to you, his favorite being cutting up wood in the yard with an axe. You couldn't help but stare at his arms that were visible due to him wearing a sleeveless shirt. When he noticed you staring, he sent a smug smile your way which caused you to blush and you immediately retreated back inside the house.

There was also the time he accidentally walked in on you changing. There you were, standing in nothing but your lacy underwear set, for some reason not embarrased or hiding yourself as Jongho inhaled deeply as his eyes raked your body. Subtly biting his lips, he apologized before reluctantly leaving the room.

Both of you were frustrated by that point, tired of the light teasing. Jongho was the one who decided to put a stop to it one night he came home from a mission. He had been badly hurt and you, worrying about him, sat him down to tend to his wounds. It was a struggle since he had to remove his shirt and you were blushing violently, eyes always looking away.

"It's ok doll. I'm your husband...you can look at me."

His hands that were holding onto your arms began caressing your elbows, subtly pulling you closer to him without you noticing until you were firmly planted on his lap.

"Do you want me my little doll?" He asked you, voice in a low whisper as his breath fanned over your lips.

"Cause I've wanted you since the first day I laid my eyes on you."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[thishintoflove]

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

[writingonjorvik]

Can We Discuss Game Hiatuses?

I want to preface this enter post with the comment that I am absolutely not saying "Oh, if you're not enjoying SSO, you should just leave the community." That's a bad argument used against criticism that I do not promote. However, I am going to talk about how if you're not enjoying SSO, why you should take a pause from playing.

I'm going to generally credit @centeris2 on this topic, because while I'm not using direct quotes (because private convos aren't exactly the style I want to use for Can We Discuss), we had a long conversation about this topic and she made a lot of good points for this that I wanted to discuss. Some of these points are based on her opinions, a lot of out thoughts blurred together so it's hard to directly credit, and she gave me the ok to talk about it and use her thoughts.

In any case, let's start with the fact that it is perfectly normally to like something and still drop it for years at a time, or to not directly engage with it. For instance, I adore the Legend of Zelda franchise (were it not obvious from my recent to be rescheduled event), but I haven't personally picked up a LOZ game for a year-ish now when I replayed Minish Cap. That doesn't revoke my LOZ fan card, that's a perfectly normal thing to do. Most of you will have done this throughout your life, more and more recognizably as you get older.

This however can get blurred by fandom. It is very often that folks with hyperfixations on a thing, who may or may not engage with something more regularly than other media, will get involved in fandom and make a lot of content for that fandom. These people can produce loads of content on a piece of media and this can fuel a community, even if the rest of the community isn't actively engaging with that media. It also doesn't specifically mean that people with hyperfixations are constantly engaging with that media. Going back to that LOZ example, I wrote LOZ fanfic for years without actively playing more than one LOZ game maybe a year or two. Content can be queued, be entirely original outside of the media, and still last a long time and engage with the fandom at large.

The point is to say, even if you make content and enjoy a piece of media, you don't have to actually be playing/reading/listening/watching it constantly. In fact, normally modern fandom culture makes that pretty easy to do, though it can sometimes make us feel like we're still engaging directly with the media even if we're technically not. But it's good to take a step back and acknowledge that. A lot of younger fans in fandom have a hard time with this, which is why I'm taking the time to point it out. A lot of young fans will hyperengage in a fandom because they want to be involved in this fandom they love, only to burn themselves out and be turned away by their frustration. It's important then to acknowledge this scenario to encourage better, healthier involvement with fandom. Still, in this situation, you can easily bow out of a fandom if you need to take a break and then come back when something new happens in it, like a new release or update. This may feel like a fandom "dies" when a piece of media ends, but for active media, it's a normal and healthy thing to do.

SSO on the other hand does not encourage the ability for people to take a break, or at least it does it at the detriment of the player. Because of the weekly updates, players are constantly checking for the chance that there is something interesting coming out. This is somewhat addressed by the monthly roadmaps the team has been putting out, but that also just extends the period of time people are waiting for news and they're still staying in the release cycle for more clarification. For instance, we know Silverglade Village is getting an update at the end of the month, but knowing SSO's release cycle, are they going to tease some more of the changes? Are they going to reveal how wide the area of update is going to be? Will any NPCs get updates with it? This is still in the weekly cycle and it keeps players from building up actual suspense for updates if we know when content is coming out. It also takes away a lot of suspense when the content isn't main content, like new areas or story. While the suspense for the Fripp quests I would say were quite large, I wouldn't say that any of the other updates have shared the same attention. This is why most companies will release roadmaps for quarters or for a year.

And this isn't to say that SSE as a company shouldn't be releasing media content weekly, they should. That's good social media. But there are ways to engage with fans that don't drag out a reliance to engage weekly, things like community contests, highlighting fans, or promoting fanmade content. But when every update is super in the eyes of social media, fatigue and apathy are going to start to kill actual excitement unless it's something major.

I don't think it's a secret that I think the weekly updates aren't good for the game on the development side. I think it creates a pseudo-crunch culture on the developers so that they can't work on larger projects that players are asking for, like an engine overhaul (it took FFXIV two years to do theirs, when are the devs supposed to have time on SSO to switch now). But, I also don't think it's good for the players. Yes, there's something every week, but how are players actually engaging each week and how much time can we build up anticipation or get excited when each week that gets diffused by something that's not super exciting the majority of other weeks? Which doesn't mean that that content is bad, but it clearly builds frustration in the community to have "filler" content. When's the next story quests, when's the next map expansion, when's the next major mechanic being added, etc. We're constantly discussing the next big thing and then finding reasons to be excited in the meantime. This does not spark joy.

But in order to take a break, either you need to be on top of your Stable Care (likely to pull you back in), or just stop caring about your horses while you're away (unlikely considering the horse girl is strong in this community). The first requires Star Coins, which is arguably saying "You have to pay real money to take a break," and the second is actively punishing you mechanically for not being committed to playing. Neither of those allow the player to take healthy, normal breaks from the community to engage in other things. And that's an issue.

Yes, MMOs need regular engagement. Active servers and participation are a part of what makes them more marketable. But there are ways to do that without penalizing players. And I'm not suggesting that the care system needs to be entirely removed, but it does need to be entirely reworked so players can leave the game without coming back penalized. Things like the care system not affecting stats, but increasing your RNG for finding doubles of crafting items, or doubling your shilling rewards from dailies. WoW's inn system rewards players for taking breaks by double your exp gain longer depending on how long you were away. Others like Guild Wars 2 will give you log in rewards that build up to bigger prizes over time. There are ways to do this.

And I understand that a lot of folks like the current care system because it's realistic. But there has to be a line in game development where enjoyment in a game is prioritized over the realism of the game, not to mention the health of the player. Yes, the daily care system is more realistic, but if it is developing an obsessive habit of play to enjoy content that is, realistically, months to years down the line, that's not good for the player and should be changed so players can break from the game without coming back to punished controls. There are better systems that can still be realistic, things like crafting feed schedules to recover health boosts faster instead of having to see the vet, increasing how often the mood goes up so it doesn't take a whole week, changing it so when taking a horse for a ride the mood will increase every 10 or so minutes by engaging with a horse you like. Rewarding players for getting on and playing the game instead of making them dread missing when they should be coming back with excitement for the game.

All of that said, I want to encourage all of you to play more games where you can. I know there are system limitations, restricted budgets, and sometimes regional limits because of limited languages or just straight regionlocks. But in the same way reading makes you a better reader and writer, gaming makes you a better gamer (and developer/designer if you go that route). It helps you identify what you like in games and in the same way that reading other things makes coming back to your favorite all that much better, so does playing other games. I'm going to reblog this in a bit with some games I'd recommend with links to Steam and Epic and I'd encourage you all to do the same.

The takeaway I hope to give is that it's normal and healthy to take a break from games. You can still engage with media without directly engaging with it through fandom. SSE can do more to not penalize players for wanting to take a break, and should. And where you can, you should play more games and break for the health of your relationship with a piece of media you like.

[lazyliars]

Tubbo for the character breakdown? :D

How I feel about this character

c!TUBBO MY BELOVED.

The Sidekick. The Yes-man. The Pawn. The Child Soldier. The President. The Government. The Revolutionary. The Fool. The Scientist. The Husband. The Best-friend. The Leader. The Follower. The Underestimated.

Tubbo is a man with many titles, and as the situation calls for it, he can wear any of them comfortably.

Tubbo is defined, more than a lot of characters, by those titles, and by who calls him by which ones. The roles that he has played over his tenure on the server have left a more dramatic impact on both how he is perceived by others, and his own self-image.

He’s Tommy’s Sidekick and Best-friend - but he’s also Ranboo’s Husband, and Snowchester’s Leader, and A Scientist with Jack Manifold, and an (ex) President to Techno, and a Pawn to Dream.

What's interesting is that this relationship with titles is one he shares with Technoblade, and it's a unique way in which they foil each other. None of either of their other foils really share this dynamic, and to add to it, they both propagate this in each other. The difference is in how they deal with, feel about, and utilize it.

Techno is “The Blade” and “The Blood God,” and he hates it. He feels used, objectified, and reduced to a weapon by these titles. At the same time however, the actions he ends up taking only reinforces the way the average people perceive him – violence, blood and anarchy. The reputation Techno has aqquired often overshadows the person who might prefer to be seen as.

Tubbo on the other hand, tends to slip into the these titles without much resistance. He accepts them, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. He's happy to be Tommy's sidekick; He takes on the role of President of L'manberg; He accepts Dream's metaphor for himself as a Pawn. But to his advantage, his flexibility within these roles and the ability to put them on and take them off as he pleases gives him a uniquely wide arsenal of social tools.

There is so much more to say about c!Tubbo but If I keep going I could be here for hours...

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I am an enjoyer of his marriage with Ranboo, although I wouldn't call myself a shipper really.

I think their dynamic as two people who value kindness, but who also possess the capacity to be surprisingly ruthless, makes them an unusually dangerous and honestly, somewhat thematically opposed pair.

Tubbo is one of the people on the server who has the longest and most consistent relationship with what Ranboo would consider “sides” which automatically sets him up as a foil. Before even L'manberg, it was Tommy and Tubbo vs. Dream, and Tubbo has always held that loyalty close to his heart, and likely wont be cutting that off anytime soon. As a consequence of this, he naturally adds Ranboo to the list of people “on his side,” quietly, but surely.

Ranboo's somewhat correct, somewhat misidentification of “sides” as the root of all conflict on the server, in contrast to Tubbo, drives him to be more individualistic, “choosing people over sides.” And accordingly, it would be a stretch to call him a member of Snowchester, despite how deeply entrenched he's become in it's founder's life. At the same time, it's clear that Tubbo is one of, if not the most important person to Ranboo out of everyone on the server, and he's willing to do anything to protect him.

All in all, Ranboo and Tubbo end up being an odd couple for a multitude of reasons, who, despite some very core differences in personal philosophy, both end up caring for each other ferociously.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I would love to be contrarian here, but I just can't. Clingy Duo 4 LYFE!

Tommy and Tubbo's friendship, from the start of their time on the server to the current day, has been one “thing” that I continually return to, and that the story over all returns to. They are the emotional anchor of the server in a lot of ways – both a representation of it's innocent, idyllic past, and it's forward march into a darker future. Whenever the narrative wants to make a story beat feel strong and impactful, they'll often end it by echoing the scene on the bench that started everything, whether or not it's Tubbo and Tommy specifically; their Bond resonates so strongly throughout the DNA of the story that their Bench has become a Symbolic Archetype all in itself, and is something that no longer even requires the two of them present to recall it's power as a representation of Attachments, Loyalty and Platonic Love.

TLDR; Clingy Duo is the glue that keeps the core of the story together, and intentionally or not, most important friendships will end up either paralleling or foiling them by the sheer fact of how impactful their relationship is to the greater narrative.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don't know how unpopular or not this opinion might be, but I do consider Tubbo to be a darker character than a lot of the content for him I see produced.

One way this expressed: he's incredibly pessimistic. He's a person who lives his life hyper aware of how easy it is to die, and with a full acceptance that, if a worst case scenario should arrive on his doorstep, he would die without hesitation, if he had to.

That isn't to say he isn't invested in preventing that, far from it – but there is an undercurrent of absolute certainty that he is living on borrowed time.

One interesting development on this is how he's expressed this – during the Disc Finale, Tubbo has already accepted his own death. He tells Tommy that he's “done enough” and that he should let him die so that Tommy can have his disc back. He tries to get Tommy to resign, to not fight Dream in the end because he can tell that they've already lost and he doesn't want him to have to die too or suffer more.

Contrast this to Snowchester now – as we've learned that the Nukes have dead-mans switch; a suicide button, that only Tubbo knew about. It's a far more proactive expression of this mentality, a final ace up his sleeve, so to speak, so that if an unwinnable situation should occur again, he can turn it from a loss into sick kind of pyrrhic victory.

It's important to note that Tubbo has not yet projected or pressed this mentality onto others; this is self destruction only, and I do think that says something about him, although it's less positive and more tragic.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

VILLAIN ARC. VILLAIN ARC. VILLAIN ARC.

Okay, as a specific example, there is sooooo much missed potential for Egg!Tubbo (and Egg!Tommy) and I will die on this hill.

Imagine, in a world where Tommy isn't immune: Tubbo gets trapped and infected by the egg, as it offers to grant him the one thing he wants most in the world.

The vines grow around Snowchester, seeping into the cracks in it's walls and then hardening into a scaly form, creating a shell around his home. The ambient radiation causes the egg to grow faster in this area, and form odd spikes that loom outwards from the heart of the town, like blades pointed at anything that gets too close.

Tommy realizes too late what's happened, and when he tries again and again to convince Tubbo to just come with him, please come with him to Church Prime, he’s sure that they can find a way--

--he ends up letting Tubbo lead him, and follows him down to the depths of the egg.

When the doors behind them are covered in thick vines, and the humidity of the room increases, and every breath feels like it draws in clouds of dust, it’s already too late to run.

Tubbo stays with Tommy for the two weeks it takes for his will to break and the egg to infiltrate his mind; it's offers of wealth and vengeance and rebuilding L'manberg and resurrecting Wilbur and making people love him and making him powerful and giving him the whole world--

--all rejected, until finally, in the sickening red haze of Tommy's mind, a single scene; a clear blue red sky, the sun high and bright, a warm breeze blowing in, a bench, the sound of good music, and there--

Tubbo moves and the vines around him creak, having been undisturbed for days. He places his hand on the mass of crimson where Tommy is trapped waiting.

--Tommy grins and rushes forwards, all of the weight in his heart, all of the dread and responsibility and fear and anger and hurt and pain, all of it suddenly gone on the breeze as he takes his place next to Tubbo on the bench.

The Eggpire grows. The vines begin to appear in more vulnerable places – peoples secret rooms, near their pets, wherever they keep their most sentimental objects.

Tommy loves causing harmless mischief, and the feeling of being accepted, of being cared for? It's perfect. Nothing can touch him now, where everything is simple and easy and just the way it should be.

Tubbo knows. It's not a deep feeling, it's not a secret part of himself still in there, still fighting. He knows, and when he sees Bad staring him down, piercing through him, he knows that Bad knows too.

There is no kinship for them. There can't be. That would be too close to rebellion against The Crimson. That would be too close to comfort.

But Tubbo knows quietly. He's not a follower by nature, but he'll follow now, simply because he's seen the most logical way to attain what he wants.

And he and Tommy will make a kinder, safer world then the one the Crimson is eating now.

[taeescript]

IV. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 9.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. sexual content present. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> another long chapter. sorry! the oc is as opposite to me as day is to night, but i have always enjoyed writing characters who are different. i feel like i’m being challenged to expand my own writing skills. as always, enjoy (: feedback and comments always appreciated. (i am curious: do you prefer long or short chapters?) 

previous part || masterlist || next part 

The taxi arrives much earlier than any of you anticipate. Jungkook is halfway through telling you about the unfortunate event of being kicked out of his rented room when the annoyed-looking driver quickly shoves you both inside. He asks you where you are headed. You lean forward and give him the address of your house. The driver mutters how the drive is less than five minutes away, but he accepts the job nevertheless. “How about you, Sir?” the driver asks Jungkook. Jungkook is at a loss of words until you intercede. “Same place,” you say. Jungkook gives you a confused look. “You said you don’t have any place to stay tonight so I’m extending an offer. Also, sort of like a thank you for finding and staying with me through this storm.” Your words come out much shyer than you had anticipated. He gives you a slight smile. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to invite a stranger to your house?” You blush. “You’re not really a stranger.” “Ah, I’m not? Well I’m a suspect to a murder case.” “No, you’re not! Jimin was only talking to you as a witness.” “A witness? He seemed a little too hostile for that.” As the conversation had carried on, you didn’t notice how close he became until you turned to come face to face with him. The small smile he always has continues to linger on his lips. You pull back and turn to hide the flush on your face that you know for sure is present. Once the heat seems to have left, you glance at him again. He is still regarding you with curiosity. Extending a hand towards him you say, “$10 per night. I’ll be your landlady and you’re renting a room from me.” He laughs and you can’t help but stare with wonder at how white and straight his teeth are.

...

The Body is a miraculous item of study. Inside, we have these little chemical messengers that act on receptors to tell us: wake! At the same time, they tell us: sleep! Just what are these chemical messengers that run around us like tiny men in a sleep-wake factory? First, when we are getting ready to sleep, Melatonin is produced in the pineal gland to send us a message telling us that it is time to enter slumber. Their levels increase as the level of darkness increases. Once our body is asleep, a surge of multiple hormones play a role. You have growth hormone from the pituitary gland telling (a child in particular) to grow and repair tissue; you have antidiuretic hormone (ADH) increasing so we don’t have to get up and pee in the middle of the night; you have oxytocin that may peak at about five hours of sleep influencing the content of our dreams. You wait nervously outside the bathroom door. You had both returned to your house and you had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a sleeveless top. Your hair was tied in a bun on your head; your scalp itching to remind you that it had been a while since you washed your hair. However, you had more pressing matters at hand. You had told Jungkook that he was allowed to use the shower first but after drinking one too many cups of water – your throat was so dry – you now desperately needed to use the washroom. The water is still running and you can slightly feel the heat escaping the warm room through the small crack of the door. It was ajar and the smell of your shampoo wafted out to meet your nose. It made you wonder if your shampoo had always been so sweet and inviting. As you are the only resident of the house, there had never been a need for multiple bathrooms and thus your only solution is to patiently wait outside until your guest is finished.  After what felt like five minutes but in actuality five seconds, you take a small peek into the bathroom. The glass shower door has been fogged up and you can only see a very hazy silhouette of its current occupant. If you were to dash in and release everything in your bladder at a fast enough speed, perhaps Jungkook would never notice that you would be in there. Just as long as you moved fast enough. You wanted to weigh the pros and cons of this decision but your bladder would not let your mind concentrate. Before you could control your body, you rush into the bathroom. Everything but the feeling of pleasure from the release of the buildup of pressure in your pelvis is forgotten. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. When you are finished, you deftly stand and flush the toilet. You momentarily lean over the toilet, reveling in the new weightlessness of your body, when the realization of the scenario you are in hits you. You had just walked into a man showering in your house. Not only that, you had used the toilet while he was washing up (naked) less than a feet away. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would definitely see you in here. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would think you are a peeping tom. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now – It is too late, however. You hear his voice from behind you, “Well, this is a surprise.” You turn as slowly as you can. Jungkook stands with the white towel around his waist. He does not look much different than when you had seen him drenched by the rain, but this time you are able to smell the masculine scent of body wash off of him. The first time in the rain, you had been unable to help yourself and glance at his defined abdominal muscles through his soaked shirt, but this time you choose not to peel your eyes away from the sight. The gulp you takes makes its way slowly down your throat. “I needed to use the toilet really badly,” you somehow managed to squeak. He tucks the end of the towel into the side all the while looking at you with a teasing smirk. You do not need to look in the mirror behind you to know the shade your face has turned. “I’ll be going now,” you murmur and turn to leave the room. “Without washing your hands?” he teases you. As if he now is not regarding you as a full out pervert, he probably thought you as unclean as well. You can’t remember what you say in response to that as you shuffle to the sink. The water is warm when it runs out of the faucet. Your mind is unfocused on the task in front of you as you can only think of ways to escape or talk your way out of this situation. “How are you supposed to wash any the germs away if you scrub like that?” You feel his voice vibrate along your back. You immediately tense up when his arms wrap from behind around you. His hands gently take your slimmer hands into his own and together they move through the lathering actions. He pumps the hand soap and his lips become dangerously close to your cheek when he reaches in front. “Clean between each finger and the side of your palm. People often forget to wash the area around the thumb and most of their less dominant hand,” he continues to lecture you. “Just be still,” the plea to your body and mind only being silently voiced out in desperation. There is no extra cloth to wipe your hands dry and so he uses the towel around his waist instead. Each action he does only made you become ever more anxious and self-conscious. When he seemed satisfied with you, he lets you walk away. You will your legs to maintain its strength as you take the steps needed to exit the small steamy room. You are stopped again when he says, “Are you always so innocent?” There is a part of you that wants to turn to look at him, but another part warns you that if you do, a larger temptation will face you. He strolls to stand before you. His eyes slowly make their way from your toes to the top of your forehead; then his gaze holds you steadily in place. You swallow again under his scrutiny. Taking a step towards you, he slides a finger under the strap of you tank top. The simple action makes you shiver. “Tell me, how long have you been living alone?” Your mind tells you not to answer him. What are you doing anyways? Just an hour ago you were thinking about Baekhyun and now you are being consumed by Jungkook. “How long has it been since you’ve been… touched?” his question comes out barely above a whisper – that is how close he is to you now. “I shouldn’t – ” you words are suffocated by his kiss. His lips mold until they wrap around yours. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you fall into him with such speed that it scares you. You feel both dread and thrill in your stomach. He tastes warm, that is the only thing your mind is capable of detecting. Other than that, your brain can not function and you feel yourself shiver in his embrace. You wonder if he has his eyes closed as well or if he was looking at you. Perhaps if you opened your eyes you would have an answer to your question yet you felt afraid of doing so. He pulls you waist closer to him and the dew on his chest seeps through your thin top. His skin is warm, but the now-cold water causes your nipples to become erect. He can feel them straining through the top, but rather than having his hand rise up to meet it, he slides his hand deeper into your pants. Your body tenses up at the invasion. “Relax,” the single word slurs as they are passed between your lips. The suggestion comes in the form of a command and your body strangely listens. With his hand, he forcefully grips the left cheek of your behind and roughly presses you lower body into his. The simultaneous sensation of pleasure and pain runs through your body. His other free hand brushes the nape of you neck. Your hands act of their own accord, and you find them running through his hair, all the while as he tugs on your lips; all the while that you become wrapped in his embrace. Your fingers become brushed with water, and you draw a wet finger down the middle of his back. It is his moan you hear this time, and the thrill rushes through your body again. For the next few moments, the two of you are captivated with exploring each other’s body. You think that he is about to lift your shirt off when instead his hand slips through the barrier created by your underwear. You freeze again. His lips leave yours and trace a pathway until he stands behind you, and your back is pressed tightly against his torso. All the while, his hand makes a crawling rotation until they rest on you lower abdominal. You place a shaking hand on top of this. You don’t even notice that your fingers have become icy cold. “Trust me,” he whispers into your ear. His voice is so low that you mind barely registers what he has said. You heart rises in speed in proportion to his hand that moves out from beneath yours and continually slides downward.

...

You wake with a beating heart. Your eyes fly open, and they are greeted with the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars you had placed on your ceiling. It had been a dream. Your breathing fights to become regular again, but the more you think about what you had awoken from, the more it loses in its battle. You know it is all a dream, but why was it then that you still feel the pressure on you lower abdominal? With a crack, your mind finally reels out of its stupor and a new burn in your stomach causes you to flush again. The act of sex is not foreign to you. You had given that away to Baekhyun the night you realized you were truly in love with him – the night he had proposed to you. But that had happened a long time ago and since his disappearance, you had never given yourself to another man. The thought had never even passed through you. So why was it that you had these thoughts now? Towards a man that you had only just met? Also, how was it that he could make you do something like this? Your hand slides out from your underwear and the band’s near soundless snap practically hands you its embarrassing reality on a gold platter. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had touched yourself. The concept was always too taboo and awkward for you to embrace. You were also not a person that became aroused by sexual thoughts, yet a simple dream had made you lose control of your body. You wiped your hands on the bedsheets, and turn onto your side in bed so you would no longer feel the pressure of gravity on your already tense body. Jeon Jungkook. You only invited him at the spur of the moment. You had both returned home and wordlessly showered and got into bed. You had offered to make a simple meal but he had kindly rejected telling you that he was too tired. He had also jokingly told you not to worry about breakfast tomorrow as it was the least he could do in return for letting him sleep at your place. Continuing on, you told him that he was allowed to use your bedroom so he would be more comfortable but he had patted your small sofa instead. He always carried a pillow with him and told you he could fall asleep anywhere as long as he had it with him. You squeeze your eyes shut. Why? What was this? Who is this man that has barged into your safe house?

More importantly, what is he doing to you? You curl into a tighter ball and press your thighs closer together.

...

The scent of sweet in combination to savory fills your nose and sends a chill through your body. Your eyes remain closed, still infused with slumber but you bring the blanket closer to you. A small breeze sends another intoxicating spiral towards your nose. It smells like pancakes. Perhaps with a thick layer of maple syrup and a cube of butter. There is also something that reminds you of salt – bacon. Sizzling, warm, crunchy bacon. The distinct aroma of coffee is blended in there as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you open your eyes. You yelp. Jungkook nearly tips the coffee cup onto your drawer when the sound suddenly occurs. He looks down and sees your wide eyes staring up at him. He meets them but you quickly shift your pupils. You look… nervous. Seeing the unexpected visitor makes you remember the events of last night. Your palms start to sweat and you only draw the covers closer to your chest while sitting up. The corner of the sheet dips past your shoulder and he catches the flash of smooth skin. “Sorry to wake you,” he scratches his jaw embarrassedly, “I saw you were asleep and I promised breakfast. I thought I’d try to quietly slip in and leave it by your bedside.” You eye the said meal on your drawer and note that your nose had not lied to you. “It’s okay,” you try to say. However, your voice is groggy with sleep and so you clear it once. “It’s okay,” you say clearer this time, “But you really didn’t have to.” “It’s nothing. I’m an early riser anyways.” He makes a motion to leave. “Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to look at you. His gaze is piercing and the strange flush that never failed to make an appearance returns. “I’ll join you outside,” you tell him. Smiling, he nods. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

...

When you had left, Jimin had sat down at his desk feeling extremely dejected. He was supposed to protect you and make sure you never shed another tear. That was his promise to his best friend. Yet here he is, as the cause of your pain once again.

“Sir, the files you had requested.” Yoongi knocks on his door. As the youngest detective on the team, he is often coerced into doing the grunt work. But his tenacious and hard-working attitude gave him rise on Jimin’s list of people he respected. Jimin tilts his head to peer above the top of his cluttered desk. New files had been opened along with the scatter of older yellowing papers. His whiteboard is nearing a grey colour at the amount of times he has written things down and then erased them. Yoongi listens and is about to leave his senior alone but stops at the door. “Sir, if I may, will you allow me to make a comment?” the younger asks solemnly. Jimin turns to regard him. His eyesight blurs and he has to hold onto the corner of the desk to steady himself. Quickly masquerading the moment of weakness, he coughs and stands straight again. “You haven’t left the station in three days. You sleep at the desk and your back is in so much pain you shuffle to get coffee. It smells of Chinese take-out and stale pizza in here with another strange concoction of coffee and sweat.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him. Yoongi clears his throat but does not waver in telling Jimin his mind. “Go home, Sir. You need some rest. The case will still be here when you return. It’ll also be of benefit when you return with refreshed eyes and mind.” Yoongi stands still all the while looking forward. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jimin walking towards him. His mouth starts to become dry knowing the harsh words he will hear from the his senior for speaking out of place.

Jimin tiredly places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi rotates his head in surprise. Sighing, he says, “You’re right. My body is on the verge of breaking down.” He sniffs once. “And I do smell like shit.” 

Yoongi chuckles, both out of nervousness and relief. 

“I’m leaving the team in your hands then,” Jimin grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. 

“Me?” Yoongi says astonished, “What about Lieutenant Namjoon?” 

The laugh draws more strength from Jimin’s lungs than he anticipates. “I haven’t seen that guy for the past three days in the station, and both you and I know I’ve been living here. You’re young, but I like your attitude. The others like you too.” 

Yoongi cannot help but smile at the praise. He salutes as Jimin walks out the door. “I’ll do my absolute best!”

“I expect nothing less,” Jimin calls out and waves.

...

He had fully intended to walk home, but there are so many thoughts in his head he needed fresh air to wash out the stale one in his lungs and to clear out his mind. 

Sitting at the park just a block away from the station, he takes a small bite of the cookie he picked up from the station’s café. It is sickening sweet and he wonders how he had lived on these cookies when he used to pull all-nighters for previous cases. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice interrupts his quiet. 

Jimin looks up and sees Namjoon smiling at him. Namjoon’s hair is swept back and he is sporting a white polo shirt along with khaki pants. His police jacket is slung over his arm and hides his badge within. At a quick glance, Namjoon looks like any normal civilian enjoying the autumn afternoon. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jimin lazily greets his friend. 

Namjoon takes a seat beside Jimin. In one hand, he holds a brown paper back and this is what he extends towards Jimin. 

Taking a peek inside, Jimin notes a container that has some type of potato salad along with another stacked container with mixed rice. 

“Youngji told me to pass this to you,” Namjoon answers his unasked question, “We thought you could do without any more of the crappy station café food – full of MSG and sugar.” 

The smiling face of Namjoon’s soon-to-be wife enters Jimin’s vision at the mention of her name. The two had recently moved in together and there were days when Jimin felt envious when hearing about Namjoon brag about his fiancée’s skills in the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Jimin says. 

“I’m not slacking on the job by the way,” Namjoon says.

“You’re not? I don’t recall seeing you in the office for the past couple of days.” 

“I got called into a meeting with the board of directors. They wanted an update on this Angel Killer.” 

“Angel Killer, huh? Quite original.” 

“Not my call on what we name the perps.” 

A lull in the conversation comes to as Jimin caves into the meal set before him. 

“Not a spinach and green bean casserole, I see,” Jimin jokes. 

Namjoon laughs. Starting from a few weeks before, Youngji had gone into a fascination in preparing green foods. The entire floor soon came to understand that Namjoon would be eating the same casserole for his next few meals. 

“I convinced her out of it,” Namjoon says with a grin, “Told her that she already spoils me with all her other cooking.” 

Jimin chuckles along with Namjoon. He digs his fork into the meal before him. The taste of food that did not come from a can is such a welcome sensation to his body he can’t help but sigh.

“Youngji’s a fantastic cook.” 

“One of the best.” 

“Well, here’s to you forever gaining weight.”

Namjoon comically nods and rubs his belly. 

“Well, Y/N’s a pretty good cook too. The pasta looked delicious the other day.”

At the mention of your name, Jimin falls quiet. 

“You know, I understand you better than you think. That look you have, Jimin. I can see that the case isn’t the only reason you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy and inside the station. We all saw Y/N leaving the station the other day.” 

“I guess that also means you all saw how upset I made her.” 

Namjoon takes an inhale followed by a slow exhale. “Stop me if I’m prying too much, but what happened?” 

Jimin takes an even deeper sigh. “She found out that I’m still looking into Baekhyun’s cases after all these years.” 

“Ah,” was Namjoon’s simple response. 

“I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? The reason I’ve never given up on finding the truth is to find some closure for myself. For her… For the both of us.” 

Jimin means the words he says, but when he hears them from his own mouth, it feels strange. 

“Well… what if closure for you doesn’t have the same definition for her?” 

Namjoon’s comment make Jimin tilt his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Namjoon stretches out his legs in front of him. The park has quieted down as most of its visitors have returned to work after their lunch break. Only a couple of people still remain, but they are scattered so far around the park that none of their faces could be made out. 

“Closure for Park Jimin means to discover the truth. Closure for Y/N might be simply to accept that her fiancé’s gone. She was in so much pain when he disappeared and it took her forever to even leave the house. Her first steps out were because of you. The reason she has the strength to move on today is because you’ve constantly been by her side. Maybe the reason she’s been able to accept that Baekhyun’s no longer with her is because she sees that you’ve accepted it as well.” 

“She saw the files that indicate that perhaps Baekhyun was murdered.” 

Namjoon’s next sentence becomes lodged in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again but only to have it return to its previous state. At last when he finally finds what he wants, he says, “That complicates things, doesn’t it?” 

Jimin closes the food container and returns it back into the bag. In the time they had been talking, he found that he had lost his appetite. His two thumbs press against the sides of his temple and gently massage it in circles. 

Everybody knows how much Jimin cares for you; some even think that the extent of it is due to Jimin’s secret crush on you. But Namjoon knows the reason why. He can’t help but look at his colleague and friend with sadness. An ancient promise that causes anguish to those in its pact. 

Placing a warm hand on Jimin’s back, Namjoon leaves it there for comfort. “Is that what you believe? That Baekhyun is gone because he was murdered?” 

Jimin shakes his head. As if the thoughts in his brain could not get any more complicated, the simple question makes things worse. “I don’t know, Namjoon. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been working this case for years now, but everything always comes up to a dead end. A part of me wants to believe that Baekhyun simply decided to walk out of his old life to start a new one and he’s alive somewhere out there. Yet another part, the detective part, can’t ignore the knowledge that maybe something bad did happen to him that night. That’s why he never returned.” 

“Did you uncover anything new?” 

“No. Not for that case.” 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. He can sense something else in Jimin’s tone. He is unable to tell if Jimin says what is on his mind as the conversation is redirected. 

“What did the directors say about Sara Michel’s case? I’m assuming that’s why you went to meet with them.” 

This time it is Namjoon’s turn to furrow his brows. Namjoon had never truly wanted to become Lieutenant. Jimin knew that Namjoon had been offered the position because he first had turned down the offer. Namjoon never expressed any bitterness about it; no, instead he had said he had been thankful. Namjoon had always said how he wanted to become Lieutenant before asking Youngji’s hand in marriage. When they spoke, the only frustration Namjoon ever expressed was the unexpected amount of responsibilities that came with this new position.  

“They want to know if we have any new leads. As they say, if we don’t have anything by 24 hours, the case is as good as gone. If there really isn’t anything then they want us to wrap it up. File it as another unsolved case and focus on the new big project: the whole deal we’ve been working over at with the Narcotics Team.” 

“The drug related gang suicides, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“We can send a couple of guys over.”

“That’s the thing though. The Board doesn’t want a few guys. They want the entire team on board. Agent Hoseok’s barely keeping above the waves with this one. HR is breathing down his neck as apparently, some well-known powerful figure’s gone missing because of this.” 

“Guilty?” 

“Likely, but since he’s clearly an influential guy, the Missing Person’s unit might be dragged into it as well. His lawyers have also been stalking out at the station in case anything does come up. It’s going to set the whole station into turmoil.” 

Politics. Jimin hated it all. If someone was guilty, he believed that they should see the justice they deserved. 

“So what should I say to them?” 

“Huh?” 

“The Board. You’re the one who’s worked the Sara Michel case the most. What should I tell them about our progress so far?” 

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. Progress… Did he have that? Perhaps, but at the end: speculations. That is what they are. He couldn’t take the chance. “Tell them we may have something. Try and deter them from trashing this case. Be ambiguous.” 

Namjoon waits to see if Jimin would further elaborate but the other doesn’t speak again. 

“Alright,” Namjoon says, “But you will keep me updated on whatever you find, right?” 

Jimin nods. 

Namjoon knows that the conversation is over so he stands. Stretching, he rolls his neck once and then follows it similarly with his shoulders. “I’m going to head back to the station. Go home. Get some rest.” 

“None of you want me at the station, huh? I stink it up too much?” 

This earns him a grin from Namjoon. “You’re the brightest mind we have on the team, Jimin. But right now it’s shutting down right in front of my eyes. Recharge it and return when you’re ready.” 

Jimin nods again and lifts a head to say goodbye. Then, he is left to his own thoughts once again.

...

She runs. Fast.

He looks down at the three words. They are the only things that fill his laptop screen after he hits enter. Writer’s block: something he didn’t quite enjoy. That was why he liked to move around so much when he writes. That, plus the fact that he can see his subject clearly. 

The girl is thin and wiry but the definition of hard deltoid muscles are outlined by the afternoon sun. He enjoys a challenge and she might be one. 

Dane observes her like the hunter might to his prey. He notes down everything - from the pathway she takes to the speed of her jogging. Everything is important. 

What a contrast she would serve compared to pretty Ms. Michel. Now, where should he display her this time?

Everything must be chosen so that it meets perfection. She is a prancing antelope that dances unknowingly for the lion. Man is an animal after all. We all belong in the Wilderness.

His eyes look up from his script and watches as the girl stretches once she reaches the bench. She is bent over to catch her breath and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. A small device is wrapped around her arm and she touches it to presumably change the song. Her black and blue leggings contrast with her lighter skin. Once she has rested enough, she jogs a couple of times in place before going forward and then turning the corner out of his sight. 

So pretty and elegant. He wants to wrap his arms around her, and feel her pulse between his fingers. He wants to make her into his next angel. 

Dane is patient. He is willing to wait until the right opportunity. He will see to it. Unwritten.

This is the third time at the park, but each day that he has arrived, she is also there. He did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that this must be her daily route. Soon, he will be able to continue on his story.

...

Jimin could not understand why, but after that day with Namjoon at the park, he found himself returning to it quite often. He would make excuses to grab a coffee, but would then find himself wandering back to the bench. He enjoyed the quietness the small area offered. It allowed him to gather his thoughts in peace before returning to the hectic environment of the station. 

After allocating time spent of sitting silently under the warmth of the sun, Jimin finally stands. The park is much quieter now as the remaining people have also left. He gathers the brown bag with leftovers from the local bistro and starts stretching his legs. From the corner of his eye, he notices that somebody is running. 

There is not enough time for him to get out of her way and she crashes into him the moment she turns the corner. The impact is not great and she merely stumbles back in shock. 

“I’m so sorry,” he bows in apology. 

She is out of breath but she shakes her head and bows as well. “No, it’s my fault! I’m sorry I didn’t see you!” 

He waves it away and they share another awkward laugh before the girl in the black and blue leggings smiles and continues on her route. 

Bending to pick up the brown bag he has dropped on impact, somebody else captures his attention. That person is someone he cannot seem to forget and even this slightest sight of him causes Jimin to scowl. 

He is able to recognize that jacket from anywhere – that grey jacket this man wore the day he walked into the police station. He is currently sitting on a bench nearly halfway across the park. Jimin shouldn’t have been able make out any facial features at his distance, but he swears that the man’s eye follow a runner down the path.  

The other man seems engrossed with something on his laptop. His eyes never seem to leave the screen and Jimin is unable to tell whether Jungkook is typing or whether he is watching some type of video. Regardless of what he is doing, Jimin has already decided that it is not good. 

About to walk up to him, Jimin suddenly stops in the midst. It is not because somebody else has bumped into him or that he is caught up in another thought. 

No. 

It is because he recognizes the second figure that appears from behind the first.

...

The previous writer’s block disappears as fast as it had appeared. His fingers are now flying across the keyboard as he continues to write the perfect plan. In fact, he is so captivated by the growing paragraphs that he does not notice when another figure appears from behind. 

“What are you doing?” your voice startles him. 

He whirls around and snaps his notebook shut. You stand behind with a slightly surprised expression on your face. He is able to tell because your large eyes are wider than usual, and your mouth makes a small “o”. 

Time had flown by so quickly that he had forgotten he was supposed to meet you at 1:00pm. Quickly checking his watch, he sees that the time is 12:50pm. 

“You’re here early,” he notes. Scooting over, he then pats the seat next to him. You timidly follow his instructions and sit down beside him. The scarf you wear loosens as the wind blows and you fix it once. 

“I was just in the area. Do you like croissants? I bypassed a popular bistro on the way here and bought us some.” You hand him the small box. “I know croissants are unexpected from a place like that, but I can promise you – they’re really good!”

Jungkook peeks in the box. Packaged in rows, there is a set of treats in chocolate, strawberry cream cheese and plain. 

“Sets of three,” Jungkook mumbles. 

You look up at him. “Sorry?” 

He gives you a small laugh, yet minute as it is, it still makes your heart tumble. “A set of three. I like working in sets of three,” he tells you. Jungkook opts for the original.

You wait until he takes a bite before a smile breaks across you face. “Good, huh?” 

He nods, crumbs falling onto his laptop. He brushes them away before they can dirty it further.

“What did you want to meet me for?” he asks you. 

From the strangely shaped bag you had brought with you, you take out a wooden stand and a large piece of rolled paper. He watches as you set up you easel and clips the paper to the side. It is blank. 

“I come here often to paint,” you explain as you take out another small bag that is filled with sketching tools, “I think it’s so beautiful here.” You don’t add that you had chosen this place because when Baekhyun first disappeared, this was the closest you could be to Jimin without actually bothering him at the station. 

“So you called me here to watch you paint?” 

“Sketch, actually. Today I’m here to sketch but in a couple of days I should be able to paint.” 

Jungkook leans back in his seat. He sees that a new light has taken over your eyes as you take everything from the park into memory. Your pencil twirls in your fingers. Another small gust of wind blows the scarf away from your neck. 

Over their time together, they had become so used to being in each other’s presence that you no longer shy away from him. There were moments when you would be reminded of the first night he stayed at your house, but believe you are not one to dwell in the past so you quickly forget it. At this moment, he is drawing the collar of your jacket up and fixing your scarf so that it would no longer loosen. 

While he is helping you, you continue to talk, “You know, ever since I saw you, a feeling has been itching at me. I kept thinking that before bumping into you at the station, I had seen you before! Now I know. You were the guy who thought I was a street artist!”

Jungkook’s fingers falter as he sets them back on his lap. He does not move. What was it you had just said?

“I was at the square near my studio that evening. It was particularly nice. I remember a small ensemble playing classical music too. You had been the one to knock over my canvas.” 

No. It was not him. 

“Wait. It wasn’t you. It was the lady you were with!” When you remember, you gasps. 

Jungkook turns when he hears you. There was not supposed to be a single person that could have remembered him with Sara that night. That was never part of the plan. When he turns his focus on you, there is a look of shock and realization. A fire begins to burn in his stomach. 

You hold your hand to your mouth. You can see that Jungkook is staring at you and the guilt eats away inside. You should have seen it coming. He was a handsome, intelligent and skilled man. He had showed up out of nowhere. He was also a stranger to the city. The two of you had met outside the station. Of course he could not be here simply because of work. 

He must have been here with his girlfriend. 

And they had bumped into you that night on their date. 

“Y/N, what is it?” Jungkook asks gently. 

You sets the pencil down on the easel. “That woman you were with… That’s your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Oh my god… if she were to know that you’re staying with me right now. She would probably think that I’m some girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.” 

Your face only reddens more when Jungkook’s laughter echoes around the park. It lasts for quite a while and you do not know whether you are feeling humiliated or angry at him laughing at you. 

He catches his breath and smiles widely at you. “That wasn’t my girlfriend. She was someone I was meeting for the night.” 

“For a date?”

“No. For work.” 

You do not know why, but you breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I also remember you liking my painting. Do you remember?” 

He gives you another smile. “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t.” 

Disappointment makes your chest ache. Never good at hiding your emotions, it makes him smile again when he sees the obvious frown. He places a hand over yours. “I’d still love a painting though, if that’s what you’re offering this time.” It is infectious, that is what his smile is. You take you hand away from beneath his and regard the quiet scenic park again. “Do you like this place? Should I paint something for you here?” 

He nods. “I’ll like anything you paint for me, Y/N.” 

You blush at the way he says it so matter-of-factly. Looking up, you scan the surroundings once again before a large shadow rushes towards you and grabs your wrist. 

You are hauled up to your feet roughly.

...

Seeing you so casually walking up to that man made him mad. But it wasn’t that which made him practically race across the park. No, it was the combination of him fixing your scarf, laughing with you and then taking your hand. He cannot allow such a thing to happen. 

“Jimin!” you yelp, the pain cutting through your wrist. It burns and you feel as if somebody had dug a knife into your skin to split your bones. 

Jimin has momentarily forgotten your disorder as he is blinded my rage. How dare Jungkook be sitting beside you like the two of you are friends? This man may be involved in a murder case. He may as well be the only suspect. 

“What are you doing here with him?” Jimin demands. 

You can barely get the words out – that is how tight Jimin is gripping your wrist and hurting you. 

Jungkook is still seated, but upon seeing your face turning bright red and perspiration beading your forehead, he stands. “Detective Park, I believe you are hurting Y/N.” 

His words are a cold splash of water on Jimin. He quickly releases you and you whimper while holding your wrist. He reaches towards you, but you draw back, closer to Jungkook. 

“I’m so sorry,” his apology is gushes, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You rub your wrist. You know it is not broken, but the pain lingers still. You gingerly rotate it before shaking your head. “I’m fine. You took me by surprise though.” 

Seeing the discomfort in your eyes, Jimin instantly feels guilty. The first time he sees you after the fight and he manages to hurt you again. “What are you doing here?” he asks again. He wants to add “with him” but he did not think it was appropriate. 

“I was meeting Jungkook. I wanted to do some sketches for a painting.”

He hated your causal use of the name. He hated it with such a passion. 

“Detective Park, it’s been a while,” Jungkook extends a hand. 

Jimin clenches his jaw but grabs it and shakes it forcefully. “Mr. Jeon,” he says through his teeth. 

You can detect the hostility between the two men. You knew Jimin didn’t like Jungkook but you couldn’t see his reason why. Jungkook had only ever been nice to you. Really, Jungkook was one of the nicest people you know. 

“Why did you need to meet him to do sketches? I didn’t even know the two of you knew each other,” Jimin begins interrogating. 

You falter. You had been so caught up in the previous few days you had forgotten to tell him your new housemate. Truth be told, the whole situation is so unusual for the two of you because you would talk to each other nearly every day. 

“I’m temporarily living with her,” Jungkook says, unable to resist the temptation. He has already calculated and anticipated the change that would occur over Jimin’s face once he says those words. He knows that it would affect you more, but there is a type of satisfaction in seeing the rage that spreads over Jimin’s face.

It takes everything in his already weak power to hold his emotions in. Heat is already flowing to his face in which he could not control, but he could still stop the explosion of curses from leaving his mouth. 

Your mouth is opened ajar once again. All the worse scenarios are running through your head. 

Jungkook sheepishly rubs his neck. “Oh, this is awkward. I thought you had told him, Y/N. You two seemed so close.” 

Oh yes. It is absolutely delightful in seeing the impact of his words on Detective Park Jimin. 

“I – ” you start, “I didn’t get the chance to yet. Um, well… Jimin…. Jungkook is staying at my place for now. He has no other – ”

“We need to talk,” Jimin interrupts you. 

You open your mouth and close it again. “Okay,” you say timidly. You start to walk towards him. 

“Grab your things with you,” Jimin says sternly. 

You want to refute his words but there is a sort of silent anger you recognize. You send Jungkook an apologetic look before packing away your easel and paper. Jimin waits for you and you quickly whisper, “I’m sorry,” before going away. 

The two walk away like a father leading his disobedient daughter. Jungkook can only watch with amusement at the new turn of events.

...

“You’re living with him? You’re living with him? You’re living with him?!” You hear Jimin repeat the series of questions again. Your finger lightly taps your thigh and you note to yourself: the sixth time. That was the sixth time he asked the same question.

Jimin had thought for a long time on their walk to the station of what he could say. Countless words had been flying through his mind however he just couldn’t seem to find the correct ones to string together. That had led him to only repeat the one fact he is being faced with: You are living with Jungkook. 

You sigh. “Yes, Jimin, I’m living with him.” 

“How could you decide to do that without talking to me about it?” he explodes at last, “You barely know this guy and you invite him into your house? He’s a criminal. He’s a murderer.”

This makes you frown. Your eyebrows crease together and even your pretty face cannot hide the ugliness of your anger. “Park Jimin,” you start sternly with his name, “I don’t think it’s fair for you to make that assumption. I don’t even think you should be making that assumption.” 

“Still, the two of you are living together!”

You sigh again.

Jimin stops in the middle his pacing for a second to collect his thoughts. “Fine. But what makes you think you know him enough to decide whether or not my assumption is fair?” 

“Well, what makes you think you have enough power over me to stop who I’m living with?”

“I have a responsibility for you, Y/N! I don’t want you to get hurt. Jeon Jungkook is dangerous!”

“There you go again! Making another assumption! Why are you even saying this?”

“You know exactly why. It’s because – ”

“If you say that it’s because of your gut feeling I’m going to walk away right now.” 

He pauses. “I just know, alright? I have evidence against him.” 

“Show it to me, then.” 

Presently, the two of you are arguing inside Jimin’s office. The blinds have been drawn, but the glass door is definitely not enough to hide the increasing voices. Jimin rummages through the multitude of papers and files on his desk. His thoughts are once again jumbled. He is unable to think straight at the moment and it makes him forget where he has put the files in the first place. 

“You don’t have it, do you?” you accuse, “You just hate him. I don’t know what your reason is, but that’s mean. Jungkook is a good person. He takes care of me.” 

Your tone is filled with exasperation. You did not enjoy when things did not go your way. Neither did he. That is the reason why the two of you tend to avoid conflicts by not being involved in each other’s personal matters. This time, however, Jimin needs his stance to be known. 

“You’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? What do you mean ‘he takes care of you’? He barely even knows anything about you.” 

You do not bother to correct Jimin that it has in fact been less than that. “He’s taken care of me more than you have alright?” you stab him with the words. Your face flushes the moment they leave your mouth.

Jimin’s next words are so calm, they border on hostility. “More than I have, you say? Please, enlighten me.” 

“He… He supports me. He’s there for me when I need him. He’s… He’s…” With each stutter, you can feel yourself losing this fight. Pride and rage cloud your judgment, and nonetheless, you throw out your last attack, “He doesn’t try to convince me that my fiancée was murdered.” 

His eyes become hard. 

There are tears wavering in you eyes and you tell yourself not to blink such that they would not fall. “You tell me to try and move on after Baekhyun’s disappearance.  You tell me that it’s for my own good; all this pain and guilt and frustration at losing him… You’re just as guilty, Jimin. You’ve never put Baekhyun behind you and now you’re saying something as ludicrous as him being murdered. I won’t accept it.” 

He hates seeing you cry. He hates it so much. He hates it enough to contemplate easing up on your decision to live with this stranger.

No. 

Walking away from you, he digs through his jacket pocket and produces an extra set of keys. He had learned to carry this around with him since knowing you. He never knew when you needed to come by and borrow his house keys. 

“Take this,” he places the keys into you palm and curls your fingers around them, “When you’re done with this tantrum… or whatever this is, come home. I understand that Jeon Jungkook needs a place to live, so rent out your place to him. But I cannot have you staying alone with him. You are to live with me while he is an occupant there.” 

You scoff at him, incredulously. You grip the keys in your hand before slamming them soundly on his desk. 

“I am not a child,” you solemnly say, “You cannot control me like this. I am a free to make my own decisions, and I will do what I want.”

With that, you spin on your heels to exit the office. Your pulse is racing as you turn to face him again. You avoid looking directly at him but stare above past his forehead. You are afraid that if you see his expression, you would falter. 

“I respect your decision to not like Jungkook. But if that’s the case, and as Jungkook is living with me, you are free to never come by my place. We will not welcome a guest who only has the intent of unsound accusation.” 

You end the argument with that and stomps out the door.

...

Jungkook is waiting for you outside the station as you leave. You are so blinded by your emotions you nearly miss him until he grabs your wrist and causes you to yelp. 

Immediately, he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

You still want to yell at somebody, but Jimin’s injustice towards Jungkook stops you from screaming. You rub you wrist that is still sore from being grabbed previously. Adjusting the strap of your canvas on your back, you continue to walk forward.

“He’s so unfair,” you whisper.

Jungkook catches it. 

“Nobody ever asked him to look out for me. I would have been fine,” you say. 

“He cares for you,” Jungkook says gently. 

You do not want to hear the words. Still, it is not like you can ignore them once they’re heard. 

“He is worried. I am a stranger, and a man. Unfortunately, society has a stigma around single strange men who sneak up to a female to offer his phone while it is pouring rain in the middle of the night.” He tries to make a joke with you. Thankfully, it works as you lightly laugh. 

“Well, still. Jimin is being stubborn. He has prejudices against you; ones that have no basis.” 

“Let me guess. He thinks I’m dangerous. He thinks I might hurt you. With my involvement in his case, he might even think that I’m a suspect.” 

You do not want to answer. 

Jungkook stops you from walking. Your strides have been short but only increasing in speed. He is no longer sure if you even know where they are walking. With one hand still on your shoulder, he says with a soft voice, “He has every right to think so, Y/N. We have only started to get to know each other We both have secrets that we have yet to reveal to each other. Perhaps I am dangerous. Perhaps I may have the intent to hurt you.”

You look into his eyes which steadily hold you own. “But you won’t, right?” 

He smiles at you. “Of course not.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” you say with resolution, “That’s what a relationship is built on. The slow accumulation of trust towards the other party. I don’t care if you have secrets, Jungkook. If you ever do want to share them, I will listen. But at the end, you don’t have to. I want to know you as you.”

He nods. Now with the rollercoaster of emotions within you coming to an end, you are able to see that the weather is beautiful that day. There is the soft melodious chirping of birds from all around you, and the streets are not busy as people have yet to be off work. A warm patch of heat is on your back as the sun greets you between the clouds.

Jungkook is quiet beside you for a while, until he says out of the blue, “Jimin really loves you.”

You whirl to regard him. “Jimin doesn’t love me. He is only tasked to look after me.”

His eyes soften when he looks at you again. He doesn’t follow up with anything, only turning his head back forward.

The speed of your heart’s beating rises slightly at his comment. You do not understand the purpose of him saying that. You do not understand what led to him to say such a thing.

“Jungkook,” you call out.

“Mhmm?”

“I still want to paint a picture for you. But I don’t think I can right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You had stopped walking beside him. He notices that and stops as well. When he finally turns to look at why you had stopped, he is greeted with the image of you standing with your wrist in the air. He sighs in concern and takes your wrist gently.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he says kindly.

...

next part 

[eldritchgray]

A Few Inches From Burning

I wrote a fic based off of @saturdaysky ‘s dark shadowgast au. If you prefer to read it on AO3 you can find it here 

There are situations that call for maintaining a calm and rational mind. In fact, Essek liked to believe that most situations could be best handled in that way; it’s how he’d gotten as far as he had.

This situation was most certainly one of those. But no matter how many times he told himself that, Essek continued to fail miserably at calming himself down. He was frankly surprised that his heart still had the strength to beat as hard as it was. Working with the Assembly had its risks, and he had known that going in, of course. But while sitting alone, stewing in his thoughts, he had to admit to himself that he never actually expected things to go this direction.

This direction being chained to a chair in a nondescript stone room somewhere in the Empire.

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed in this windowless room, but it was long enough that Essek’s original panic at being chained with anti magic manacles with no idea where he was, had festered into a steady stream of anxious thoughts and dread. Hence his poor overexerted heart. Assuming that Essek had any chance at all of getting out of this predicament alive, he would need all his wits and his wits were simply not cooperating.

Thinking back, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment things had gone so wrong for him. Sure the Dynasty declaring war over the Beacon Essek had secretly given to the Assembly was… problematic, but everything had been going relatively smoothly up until very recently. He wasn’t even sure of the developments that led to his current predicament. He wasn’t currently aware of any missteps on his part.

Of course there was always the chance that his business partners had changed their minds about working with him due to complications of the war. That was certainly an unsettling thought.

It happened to be the first of many unsettling thoughts for Essek. Time dragged on and no one came into the room, so for better or worse, his only company was himself. He was almost certain it had been hours at this point, and he didn’t know if the wait was to make him as uncomfortable as possible or if something big enough happened in the Empire that the Assembly was delayed. Regardless of the answer, and the rest of his spiraling thoughts, Essek felt fatigue starting to set in and despite his better judgement he started to drift off.

A rattling sound woke him. Essek was immediately aware of the door being unlocked and then opened with a soft creak. A man stepped inside and Essek’s heart pounded faster in his chest as his stomach dropped.

“Good morning Herr Thelyss.” The man said softly with a charming smile. A simple hand gesture later and the room was lit just bright enough to be painful to Essek’s drow eyes. It glared off of the man’s sharp blue eyes, long red hair, and pale skin.

“Ah, so it is morning then.” Essek replied. Squinting against the glare, he noticed the man was pulling his gloves off and rolling up his sleeves revealing criss-crossed scars. He had worked with the Assembly long enough to recognize this was probably one of Ikithon’s scourgers. That certainly didn’t bode well for his chances.

“It is. Apologies for the wait Herr Thelyss. I meant to talk to you sooner, but something came up.” The man kept up his charming demeanor; if the situation were different Essek would have found it disarming, but given current circumstances, it only unsettled him further. In a few steps the man had crossed the room. “My name is Bren Ermendrud. I am here on behalf of the Assembly.” The man’s blue eyes focused on him and hardened slightly. Eremndrud’s next words were just louder than a whisper and the easy charming smile edged into something more sinister. “We have some questions for you.”

“Ah, I see.” Essek surprised himself with how calm the words sounded. They certainly did not reflect the panic he was feeling. “What exactly are these questions pertaining to?”

“I’m afraid that given some recent… developments in the war, the Assembly has chosen to tie up some loose ends.” Essek’s blood turned to ice in his veins at those words. This was very close to a worst case scenario. “But the Assembly can be reasonable.” Ermendrud took slow deliberate steps behind the chair he was chained to as he said these words. “You have quite a bit of information at your disposal after all.” There was suddenly a hand on Essek’s shoulder; its fingers briefly pressed into his tunic and then let up. His breath hitched. “It would be such a waste to let that knowledge go. And if there’s one thing the Assembly despises,” Ermendrud leaned down, speaking his next words directly into Essek’s ear, “it is wasting resources.” Ermendrud’s breath was hot, almost unnaturally so, and there was no mistaking the underlying threat in his tone that replaced the earlier charm.

Ermendrud shifted his other hand in front of Essek’s face, which had him confused until it was suddenly ablaze. Essek could feel the searing heat, and while Ermendrud’s hand didn’t appear to be burning, he was under no illusion that the fire wouldn’t hurt him . Keeping his eyes open against the bright flame in front of him was now painful , but Essek didn’t think he could afford to look away.

“I am sure if you are generous with your knowledge, Shadowhand, the Assembly will be reasonable. I think you and I can come to an agreement.” Essek was finding it difficult to structure his rattling thoughts into something coherent. He apparently hesitated too long because the flaming hand crept closer towards his face. Essek forced himself to speak.

“I-I would- ah. I would be willing to cooperate further with the Assembly.” His words sounded desperate to his ears. He was certain the scourger took notice of it as well, but it had the desired effect of getting the open flame to stop moving closer to him.

“Hmm, that’s a start.” The hand was unfortunately still there so Essek thought back to the most recent meeting with the Bright Queen. He was already a traitor to the Dynasty, it wasn’t as if he could sully his conscience anymore, and if it meant he could get out of this place alive well…

He had always put himself first in these matters.

“I am, ah, certain the Assembly wishes to end this war just as the Dynasty does?” Ermendrud hummed a non-committal response. “I have recent news of a weapon some of the Dynasty’s engineers are building, as well as knowledge of its function.” The flames went out and Essek released a breath he’d been holding. Ermendrud walked back around to face him. The hand that rested on his shoulder moved to pat Essek on the cheek.

“I knew you could be a good boy and see things our way.” Ermendrud’s smile shifted into something cold and sharp. “Let’s begin with everything you know of this new weapon.”

Essek nodded slightly and tried to breathe normally again. He had a feeling this interrogation would last for the foreseeable future.

[shiberpostshere]

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

28. Chapter Twenty Four: Cinematic Parallels✨

Previous Part✨        Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 4.3 K 

Note: This contains suggestive content.

5:00 PM. The clock was ticking a little too slow for your liking. 

The second coffee cup of the day, now empty and sweating even in the air conditioned atmosphere of the cafe, accurately depicts your inner state minus the perspiration. 

You continue chewing on your bottom lip, a little expectant and a little hesitant. It has been difficult to pay attention to the book in your hands, you’re rather occupied with counting the seconds on the clock for the past excruciatingly long fifteen minutes. 

After testing out approximately millions of scenarios about what explanation Seonghwa is going to offer to put an end to your dilemma, the final one you kept arriving to is, ending things between you two. 

An end to a relationship you've never experienced before that merely began a few weeks ago. 

An end? 

The assumptions were eating you from within. It’s strange how worried you have been for the last few days but it's even more queer that your feelings for him are rigid and unfazed.

Why is your heart ready to forgive him even for the worst case scenario? 

All he had to say was, ‘Trust me’ and you did. 

Your head falls back with a slump of exhaustion. “Oh my god, why are feelings so complicated?” 

The intense war of dichotomy that's going on between your stubborn heart and persistent mind has been tiresome. It is a scenario where the brain is presenting blunt but logical ideas and the heart is deflecting those with its mellow and soothing sentiments. 

The mind prepared a list of “Possible Hindrances You Will Have to Deal with When Managing a Relationship with Park Seonghwa” and your heart fired back with a counter argument of “Times When Park Seonghwa Made You Feel Extremely Happy and Appreciated”. 

They are both correct in their respective standpoint. It is you who needs to settle on a conclusion which you cannot unless you learn Seonghwa’s perspective. 

Okay, (Y/N) stop the train of thoughts, let’s think after we talk, let’s consider things after we talk, let’s focus on this wonderful book for now. 

“Scoot over.” A heavy voice announces and you look up to register the undetected mischievous boy, standing in his tall glory, laptop held with care to his chest. 

You slide along with your belongings, studying Mingi as he settles down with concern written all over his features. 

“Okay.” The response comes out of you in an unexpectedly meek voice. 

“I know you weren’t expecting my company but at least don’t look so disappointed.” In surprisingly quick movements he begins to work, fingers furiously drumming on the keyboard with his brows furrowed to an intense depth. 

Indeed, you were not expecting his company but you didn’t want to openly broadcast the not-so-subtle disappointment. “What brings you here?” You ask, finally placing down the book whose title is already wiped clean out of your mind. 

The amount of concentration currently present in your mind, almost none, made the task of reading troublesome. You did not get past the first sentence. You don’t even remember the said first sentence you read, maybe almost a thousand times for the last fifteen minutes of waiting. 

The tall boy runs his fingers through his messy locks, disturbing them further. “Did you forget already?” His skeptical eyes meet your clueless ones. 

“Oh.” A thoughtless answer because you truly have no idea what he is implying. 

He leans lazily into the palm of his hand. “The pendrive, (Y/N)”. 

The pendrive? What pendrive?

You shuffle through your rack of memories for a plausible answer. “Oh, shit. Hongjoong’s pendrive?” 

He nods at your realization. 

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday to copy the contents for backup purposes and it was to be delivered to Mingi right after you were done. 

He holds out his palm. “Give me it. I’ll be on my way, I don’t want to intrude.” A brief pause. "The talk, or whatever, um.." 

An awkward smile stretches onto your lips, right hand sheepishly reaching out to the back of your neck.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday is actually not in your possession. 

“What? Why are you making that weird face?” Don’t tell me--” He halts his rant, his suspicions getting confirmed as your awkward smile transforms into a rather skittish one. 

You shoot up from your seat. “I remember Hongjoong telling me it's in the first drawer of the second cabinet, I will be right back!” In a hurried motion, you jump out of the broad bench, ready to sprint to and from the studio. 

Mingi’s fingers catch a fistful of your coat before you can flee. “What am I supposed to tell Seonghwa when he arrives? I am not going to wait here in that kind of gloomy mood with him!” 

You try to untangle his heavy hold on your coat. “I promise I will be back in no time. I came fifteen minutes early to prepare myself to talk to him! He won’t be here for another five minutes.” 

He releases the hold, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. “Fine but be back as soon as possible.” His fingers shuffle inside his pants pockets to take out a small door key. “Take the key.” The studio key is tossed your way to catch. 

“Thanks!” Holding up two thumbs up in the spur of the moment, you curse internally for admitting your obvious desperation out loud.

The distance between the building that houses various types of studios for the artistic students of KQU and Cafe Utopia, a space mostly occupied by the music and dance majors to relax during their breaks is only five minutes apart. 

The ground is slippery and shifting under your heavy footsteps as you are trying to jump towards the studio. 

You have seen a late, panicked Wooyoung in action, grabbing a drink priorly prepared for him (he has charmed all the part timers of the cafe) and disappearing out of the cafe within the time span of sixty seconds. It’s truly a wondrous sight to see until you’re in the similar situation, (You have not charmed all the part timers, not even San) running towards your class with not a single drop of temporary energy in your vessels. 

The influence of the misunderstanding has clearly taken its toll on you. There have been a number of tasks you have forgotten or completed last minute due to your distracted mind since you learned the incomplete news. You were all over the place and you did not like it one bit. 

While you’re hastily climbing up the stairs to reach the studio used by the Dazzling Night crew, you’re thankful that it resides on the first floor instead of fifth as a numbness creeps up your legs. 

“Whoa! slow down.” A random boy comments as you dash by him, footsteps echoing through the corridor to reach the door at the very last.

“Sorry!” You shout, voice bouncing in the emptiness.

You halt with a screech in front of the locked door. 

The door opens with a soft click and you turn on the lights, the 181024 studio illuminating with a warm glow. Your movements are quick as you navigate through the familiar surroundings, reaching out for the drawer. 

A wave of relief washes over you when the blue pen drive with the owner’s initials is the first thing that comes into your vision after sliding the drawer open. 

“Is it still there?” A sudden, soft comment startles you in the silence, hands flying up, increasing the pre-existing panting. 

You turn around to address the unexpected guest and it is the last person you expected, quite contradictory, considering that you had been looking forward to his presence ever since today’s sun dawned in the sky. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Seonghwa’s eyes motion to the hand placed on your chest. 

You let it fall, your body leaning back into the cabinet with a slight stumble. “No, it’s okay.” Retrieving the pen drive, you close the drawer. “I was just about to return. Mingi is leaving for the dance club soon.” 

He studies the well accustomed surroundings, “I was thinking that maybe we can talk here instead?” You notice concealed bags underneath his weary eyes. 

There is an evident urgency to the way he speaks, worried glances directed throughout the room. 

For a brief moment you wish to wrap your arms around his warm and tall figure. To assure him and to be assured but you have to know what he has to say to control these storming feelings. 

“Okay, yeah, sure, let’s talk here.” The temperature is too toasty to keep the coat on, you remove it and settle down on the only couch present in the studio. 

Seonghwa closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside you, his fidgety fingers trying to keep themselves from reaching out to caress your face. 

You gulp, pushing back your hair that is sticking to the nape of your neck, eagerly awaiting for him to speak. “Hwa?” 

He looks up. “Yes?”  

You let out a big exhale. “Can I say something before we talk about the Japan situation?” The fingers of your left hand begin pulling the threads of your right sleeve. “I have been thinking about certain things. Mostly about what I’ve been feeling which I often don’t think about.” Unknowingly, a nervous chuckle slips out of you. 

He adjusts a little in his seat. “Yes, of course (Y/N). Tell me.” He is expecting to hear the conclusion he had been dreading. 

“You know, when I heard from Mingi that you are leaving for Japan, the first thought that crossed my mind was a selfish one.” You observe his expression before you continue. He offers you every grain of his attention. “Even though both of us are busy with our own studies, you still find time for me, look out for me and I don’t know, it just feels extremely comforting in your presence. It’s almost as if I don’t have to worry about anything when you’re around."  

That was not what he presumed you wanted to say to him. 

His expression softens. “(Y/N), you look out for me as well, I hope you know how much I value the time we spend.” 

A small sad smile appears on your lips. “It comes to naturally, I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always looking out for everyone but you’re a big baby yourself. You need someone to look out for you as well, dummy.” He opens his mouth to protest at your playful comment but you’re quick to continue. “It hasn’t been so long, maybe a few weeks but everything went so well. I looked forward to even the shortest amount of time we spent together. Even when you spontaneously appeared out of nowhere and accompanied me to the class.” You stop for a moment. “I’m not making much sense right now, am I?” 

He shakes his head, an expression of awe written all over his features. “No, I understood everything, it’s okay.” 

“But” You hesitate and his features shift into an anxious one. “But, I didn't consider the eventual obstacles we might face in the future, taking in account that you’re graduating next year and I am barely beginning my college life. I actually purposely didn’t think about it, I wanted to save it for later until--” 

“Until you learned that I am leaving for Japan.” He concludes the sentence in your stead. 

You nod. “I like you a lot, Seonghwa. My feelings are intense enough that I won’t be able to decide what I should be feeling next unless you tell me everything yourself.” You said it, you finally said it. 

“What?” He questions, a little taken aback. 

Oh no. Maybe, I shouldn’t have poured out everything at once. God, what have I done? 

The way he appears perplexed, he definitely was not expecting you to dump out your feelings on him when you said you wanted to talk. You are pretty sure he is feeling pressured by this revelation. 

“The important thing you wanted to tell me was not putting an end to us before it escalated further?” After hearing his question, it's your turn to be confused by his words. 

“What?” You push back the unruly hair falling in front of your face with both of your hands, unable to decide if he’s suggesting to end things. 

He moves a little closer. “You don’t want to end what we have, right?” 

“No! But that depends on whether you’re going or not. Wait, do you want to end...this?” 

“No!” He is extremely quick to answer. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yes?” You’re eager to hear what he has to say. The puzzling thoughts are clouding your mind. 

“I am not moving to Japan after graduation. I am simply accompanying Hongjoong for a month to help him settle, like a short vacation after three years of continuous college.” He finally admits the entire thing. The following sentence that truly makes or breaks the incomplete one you had heard before. The incomplete one you had heard before and especially not from him. 

“You’re not moving to Japan after graduation? You’re only going away for a month? Just a month?” You repeat to make sure that you heard it right even though he stated it with proper enunciation. 

In the span of twenty years of your life, you didn’t know that it was possible to feel embarrassed and relieved at the same time yet at this moment you’re experiencing both. 

You’re embarrassed because of the millions of possible negative scenarios you coddled in your mind, the time you spent brooding, the time your friends had to take measures to elevate your mood and relieved that hopefully nothing would change between you and Seonghwa, at least not in the way you had feared them to and despised every second of those intrusive thoughts.  

“Yes, I am only going away for a month after my graduation.” There is now a similar smile of relief on his lips. 

The edges of your shoulders droop. “If you can’t tell, I feel extremely stupid right now. I feel so stupid.” 

Seonghwa tilts his head, his movements relaxing for the first time since you started speaking. “Will it help if I told you that I assumed the same? I feel stupid for not telling you myself before you heard it from someone else and that’s what caused the misunderstanding in the first place, (Y/N). Their is no one at fault here, trust me.” 

“Are you disappointed?” The inquiry slips out of your subconscious. 

His hands take yours to securely enclose them in between his palms. “Not at all. There will be small misunderstandings, bad feelings, unintentional hurtful words and external factors that will stand as an obstacle in any relationship. Do you know how happy I am that you decided to hear me out instead of arriving at a conclusion of your own? I was worried, (Y/N).” His faltered gaze lingers on the entangled fingers. “I was worried that right when I started spending time with someone who understands me, who makes me smile, who relieves me from my troubles and brings out the good sides in me might end up leaving.” He bites back the urge to say, ‘again’. 

“Oh, Seonghwa.” 

Without further thought, you reach out to him and pull him close into you by clasping your arms firmly around his shoulders. He responds immediately as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you even closer. He snuggles his face into the crevice of your neck, his gentle breaths causing a little tickling sensation. 

Out of all the times he has held you before, sometimes unintentionally when you’re with your friends, quite often after a long day when he falls into your embrace, and always before you leave for the night after the show, today you feel the utmost satisfaction and at ease. 

His hand is caressing your back in a serene motion to cast away the doubts created by the miscommunication. 

You remove your face from his homely shoulder, arms still intact around him as if he is the most precious being in this world. “Let’s talk, okay? Let’s give each other time in future so that we can solve things when we’re ready to talk. I know things will change, things are bound to change but let’s try to understand as we get through the most simplest or the most complicated situations.” 

He appears displeased that you disturbed him from the snugness of your neck that he had settled in to but delivers an instant agreement to your question along with a quick peck that he places to the closest cheek. “Yes, let’s.” 

Blood begins rushing to your face instantly due to his sweet gesture. 

“So, can we go back to the part when you said you like me a lot?” To your disappointment, he releases the hold around your waist but the disappointment is short-lived as the free hand of his travels to your thigh in an attempt to lift you onto his lap. 

The bold action of his catches you off guard, his other hand now bringing you closer to him with not even a centimeter of space left in between. The thumping of your heart is ringing in your ear as you feel his thighs you’ve been flopped onto, underneath.

You’re stunned with arms still locked around his shoulders. “Why do we have to go back to that part in particular?” The intimacy is making it difficult for you to maintain a constant eye contact with him. 

His eyes that hold an amused yet admiring gleam try to find yours but you’re dealing with a current little conflict of your own. The thoughts are flashing with intense hues in your mind due the fact that his hand is resting quite dangerously on your thigh and the other arm has you locked by the waist. 

You are not complaining but this outcome is not what you exactly prepared yourself for. This particular scenario did not even cross your mind for a nanosecond. How come this has never crossed your mind? He has nice thighs. 

He has nice thighs? Of course he has nice thighs! You have noticed how sturdy they are, especially when he’s wearing skinny jeans. Oh my god, did I ogle at Seonghwa’s thighs in public when he was wearing skinny jeans? What if he caught me ogling at him when he was wearing skinny jeans? IN PUBLIC? Not to forget the time you kept staring at the definitions of his arms that one blessing of a day when he wore a tank top due to the sweltering weather. But how can I not look at him when he looks THIS ATTRACTIVE? WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THIS SITUATION?

As you’re contemplating and battling with quite interesting thoughts, entranced in your own bubble, Seonghwa is observing you with a smirk that you have not noticed yet. 

“What are you thinking about? You’re stark red, baby.” He appears absolutely delighted, a kind of joy you’ve ever witnessed before. 

“Baby? Baby?” You repeat like a lust stricken puppet.

“Yes?” His hand trails from your neck to your waist in an excruciatingly slow pace. The temperature in the studio rising enough to convince you to discard your clothes.

Why did my mind even go to the thought of removing clothes? Shut up!

His hand settles on the nape of your neck, tugging you down to his forehead. “You don’t like this?” 

You part your lips to answer but your system fails to support you. 

His breath fans on your lips due to the proximity of your faces. “Can I kiss you?” His voice sounds heavy when he asks. A deep tone you’ve never heard him speak with. 

“What?” You’re flustered, heart thumping wildly in your ribcage, ready to burst out. Your gaze continues shifting back and forth between his beautiful, chestnut eyes and tender, pink, kissable lips. 

His finger gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?” 

You unlock the clasp of your fingers from behind his neck to carefully hold his cheeks. “Oh. I mean, yes, of course--” 

Your lips collide. They meet with such haste as if he had been counting days just to have you to himself. The feeling of his plump lips against yours is unbelievable. Unbelievable enough for you to tilt your head for a deeper taste. He tastes like strawberries, extremely sweet and addicting. 

Your chests are pressed together, hearts beating frantically in a mismatched rhythm but sharing the fervour. You let one hand trail down to trace the unexplored areas you couldn’t dare to before. His entire body is blazing with a familiar passion that is swirling within you as well. He lets his hand perform smooth strokes around your neck with his dainty fingers supplying a tingling sensation all the way down to your core by the delicacy of the action. 

He kisses you. He drinks you in, again and again. You break apart for a mere second to take in a deep breath and connect your lips with such urgency, unable to get enough of each other. 

In the moment that is burning up with each and every second ticking by, actions are getting bolder. Seonghwa’s hands move up to your chest, to explore every inch of you and your fingers are roaming through his hair, kneading through the soft black locks. The dizzying movements intoxicating him further. 

He catches your lower lip in quick, needy pecks and proceeds with something you did not see coming. His teeth grasp it with a painfully long drawl, leaving you breathless. A swarm of butterflies are whirling in your stomach and your head leans back the moment he releases your lips to let the suppressed throaty moan finally escape. He takes the opportunity to pepper feathery kisses all the way around your collarbone, the plump lips connecting with warmth and leaving behind a chill that vibrates down your spine. 

Chests heaving up and down with exhilaration and shortness of breath, You grab his face and plant one long lasting peck. 

“OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!” A deafening, exasperated exclaim pierces your ears.

The shriek frightens you as you lose your balance and your forehead bumps against Seonghwa’s head with a loud thud causing you two to hiss and yelp at the impact.

There he stands by the door, Song Mingi, the requester of the pen drive that vanished magically out of your minds. His ears are boiling red, jaw hanging a little too low and eyes stretched to their maximum possible width. 

Mingi takes in every detail ruefully. Seonghwa’s hands messily entangled around your neck and waist while yours held his face. Your body cozy on his friend’s lap, hair disheveled, swollen red lips and loss of air depicts it crystal clear that PG-13 activities were surely going to lead up to Rated R. Mingi does not wish to know what happened before and he definitely does not wish to be aware of what was going to happen on the studio couch. The only couch in the studio to crash on, the couch he liked to roll on while Hongjoong worked and now it will be the couch he is never going to even lay one finger on. 

“Mingi, I--” Seonghwa opens his mouth to explain, maybe even apologise for the sight the boy has walked onto. 

Meanwhile, you’re occupied with examining the ceiling to its greatest details, unable to register Mingi’s presence due to the embarrassment. 

The tall boy holds up his hands. “You were here for the pen drive, the pen drive!” He mutters under his breath, snatching the blue device from the half open drawer with furious eyes. “What is with you guys kissing and me walking at the exact time? It was cringy back then, now it’s just, my god” You decide to answer but he silences you and continues, “You were supposed to talk! What happened to talking? Oh my god, leave me alone, please.” He shakes his shoulders and arms with a face of disgust. 

“We were talking.” You say in a timid tone. 

Seonghwa nods a little too enthusiastically. “We were talking.” 

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He stomps towards the door. “Clearly, you were talking and not sucking each other’s face in a public studio. Not in the studio, guys! God, whatever. I am leaving.” 

Yeosang’s warnings about funny business in the studio pops into your mind. 

“MINGI DON’T TELL YEOSANG, PLEASE!” You scream out a plea as Mingi walks out. 

He answers in his low voice already out of the studio. “STOP MAKING OUT IN PUBLIC STUDIOS!”

If it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s hands resting on your hips, keeping you settled, you’d leaped out behind Mingi.

He chuckles beneath you, thumbs tracing circles on your stomach. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll complain for a week and then forget about it.” 

The thought of flustered Mingi and irritated Yeosang is pushed far back into your mind the moment your eyes take in the bliss present on Seonghwa’s features. “You’ll silence them with that gentle glare of yours whereas they’ll bring it up every time I cause a minor inconvenience, we’re different, Hwa.” Even though you’re supposed to be complaining, you’re focused on fixing the strands of hair ruffling against his forehead. 

“I like it when you call me ‘Hwa’. God, what are you doing to me?” He leans upwards to place a soft peck on your jaw almost pulling you back into the extraordinary emotions you experienced a few minutes ago. “I like you a lot, (Y/N).” 

You release yourself from his hold and he displays extreme dismay at your actions. “You better or else the makeout session would make no sense if you didn’t.” 

He too, stands up and his arm sneaks around your waist. “I am feeling too good, nothing will get me riled up today.” His lips find your cheek again. He had been waiting for a while to shower you with affection and now that he has received the golden chance, he will not waste it. 

“Hongjoong and Yeosang will find out and scold you.” Your comment goes through his one ear and escapes through the other. He is elated and unbothered. 

“Mmmm, okay.” He responds lightheartedly with a shrug. 

The contentment he is displaying through gentle touches, adoring eyes and unfading smile, you’re capturing all those elements to cherish at present and in the uncertain but the coming future, with Seonghwa. The mere thought is giddying enough. 

You’re falling for this man and you’re falling hard but you’re unaware that so is he.

Pairing: (Business Management Major) College Student! Seonghwa x (Law Major) College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you “borrowed” once a kiss from. Years have passed and it’s a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you’re to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: Take a shot every time Mingi says “God, My god, Oh my god.” 

How are you guys doing? How did you like the chapter? do tell, do tell! Spare feedback please!

I attempted to write a steamy scene, did I do well? I am not quite experienced (nervous laughter) but I tried my best to relay what I wanted to. We’re SO close to the end. Earlier I was just thinking that my god, something I started is actually finishing, I can’t believe it. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

🌸Tags: 

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @cloudsgathering @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @retrofuture-ism​ @hongjoongsnoona​ @ateezficz​ @veeeenus4​ @mochibabycakes​ @vhschs​ @choisaniskillingme​ @vantclavs​ @f-iyan​ @staywritten​ @baes-moon-scribbles​ @uppiespuppy​ @mingiflower​ @multiangell​

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Please do not repost, modify or claim these images. 

[elriell]

Answer to my LONG ask friend, posting it like this because I imagine it would be way to long or else! 

hi i hope you dont mind me asking, but perhaps any elriel meta will be willing to cover the whole berons alliance with the queen? because i think thats our winning argument in favor of elriels endgame. and i wish im not reaching or overthinking this lol.

why it will be our winning argument? becaue the whole beron pledged alliance to the queen dont mean anything just yet, it hasnt been flushed out yet (sarah left it open ended), and it will definitely be the main conflict in the next book just to set up the final book and war where all the sides has been established whos with who.

because in my perspective, elriels story really will trigger that conflict and rhysands warning in az pov is literally the set up for that conflict.

when i read acosf, i was thinking there is literally no point of beron making alliance with the queen aside him wanting to be the high king, more power, why would he do that when the queen is in the continent and him in prythian, other high lords will surely oppose him being the high king. thus its two (if the queen indeed would help him) versus six since koschei is still trapped in the lake. plus, his alliance is still a secret, surely other courts will learn of it, wont they?

now however possible consequences from elriel, beron perhaps will use the rejecting mating bond—the blood duel—as a reason to declare a war and have other courts against the night court or eris will finally dethrone his father and be the high lord. and with eris being the high lord, isnt that going to be one of the key topic for morrigans book? sarah also confirms morrigan book and she admits that she doesnt know what the novella is going to be, so its same to assume that mor will get a full novel.

fyi, i cant see lucien will challenge azriel though, he is decent and will respect elains choice, but beron as cruel as he is will surely do something sinister.

and i stumbled across an account on twitter and they compare elriels story to helen of troy and the set up of the trojan war is literally the same as elriel. also, beron reminds me of agamemnon in troy movie (2004), both of them want more power. there are a lot of similarities, imo, between elriel and the set up of iliad. in iliad there is also a duel between hector and achilles (this is me reaching lol).

thus, aside from elains connection to the dread trove, elriels conflict also has the logical conflict that tied to the whole overarching plot for the plot of the series to move forward toward the end, because like i said the whole berons alliance need to be addressed and in acosf it hasnt been addressed yet, at least not enough.

im really sorry if i come off as rude by asking this. i would do it honestly, but i dont have the confidence to post anything online (hence, im anonymous) and im not as convincing as the others in terms of flushing the arguments.

also, you are literally keeping me sane when all of elain antis trying their hardest to discredit elriels.

thank you❤️❤️❤️

Hi! I’m that anon who said that Elriel’s conflict with Beron could be the winning argument for our ship since they are tied closely with each other based on Rhysand’s warning in Azriel POV. If you decide to answer that question, would you mind if you answer this one instead? As I’m pretty much still stand on that point however I’d like to add and correct some statements that I think I don’t express clearly in my previous question:)

If you don’t mind, I’d like to post my theory here, anonymously, since I’m not confident enough to post my thoughts online yet as I’m afraid I’ll be judged harshly lol. And perhaps other metas such as you would like to elaborate more on the matter since I think it is a vital plot for Elriel’s book. It’s quite long, I do apologize for that:)

Like I said, Beron allegiance with Briallyn didn’t make any sense to me and it also took me by surprise when I read ACOSF. Why?

A. Briallyn lived on the continent and Beron is in Prythian. Wouldn’t it be better for him to seek an ally that is closer to him instead? We know that Beron wants to be an ally with her because he heard about her ambition. And I suspect that Beron wants to be the High King or kill Feyre since he knows that she has his power. But one thing for sure is that he wants more power.

B. If he indeed wants to be High King or kill Feyre then I don’t believe that the other high lords would comply with him. Therefore, Beron wouldn’t stand a chance against the other high lords and lady in Prythian since it is two (before the queen was killed by Nesta) versus six. Plus, Briallyin lived in the continent thus her allegiance was not something that he could hold on to, imo.

So obviously we know that Briallyn is dead and her allegiance doesn’t mean anything anymore. However, from her allegiance with Beron we now know that Beron for sure set to be the other villain of this new overarching plot alongside Koschei. And I also think that Beron would be the main villain for the next book because a villain as big as Koschei would likely be dealt in the last book.

Now, why is it tied with Elriel? I think Rhysand’s warning in Az’s POV explains it plainly, and I can’t help but think that it is a set up, a foreshadowing, of what would happen in the next book, especially since Koschei’s plotline is not foreshadowed enough in ACOSF and we only know of his onyx box which we get from ACOWAR.

If we acknowledge that Elriel is endgame and their story is next, then Beron surely comes to play in the next book. Their relationship will push the overarching plot one step closer to its climax.

FYI, I can’t see Lucien invoke the Blood Duel himself, he is a decent person so he will respect and understand Elain’s choice to be with Azriel since it is definitely where we are going in the matter of endgame. But, Beron, as cruel as he is, will surely make use of the situation to profit himself, to reach his ambition that is momentarily squashed with Briallyn dead.

These are possible results of what could happen with Blood Duel plotline:

1. Beron would ally himself with Koschei as Briallyn did before because he knows he is outnumbered if he declared a war against the Night Court.

2. Beron could convince other high lords in Prythian to go against the Night Court if Lucien was killed in the Blood Duel, I pray that it will not happen though Lucien deserve some peace and happiness with the woman who wants and loves him voluntarily.

3. Eris would rebel against his father's order for Lucien to invoke the duel, and Beron would be dethroned by Eris and he would be the next high lord of Autumn Court.

I personally lean more on number three, because with Eris being the high lord wouldn’t it be one of the key topics for Mor’s book? It is already confirmed that Sarah pitched Mor’s story as one of the books and she admits that she doesn’t know what the novella is going to be. So, it’s safe to assume that Mor will get a full novel, not a novella one. Seeing her sparse appearance and development we’ve seen of her in ACOSF, then it is also logical to assume that Mor will not be the next book main character.

In conclusion, Elriel needs to happen to address Beron's situation and bring the overall plot of the series a bit higher before it reaches climax in the final book. Is it also possible that Beron’s scenario still can be addressed without it being tied to Elain and Azriel? Yes, but, I will say it again, Rhysand’s warning is a clue, a foreshadowing, of what conflict will be covered in the next book. For an author to drop something as big as that but not happening is a lazy writing in my opinion.

In the previous question I also mentioned that Elriel’s story is kinda similar to Iliad. Their set up is pretty much similar to me, however, I don’t think Elriel’s story will end in tragedy since Sarah doesn’t like to read, write, sad endings.

I’m sorry if I come off as ordering you around, but I really appreciate it if you and other metas also put your thought in the whole Beron/Elriel situation since I’m 95% sure Elain book is next and Azriel will be her LI seeing there is no progress with her and Lucien yet.

And I still stand by my point, you and other Elriel metas keep me sane when all of Elriel antis trying their hardest to discredit all of Elriel’s interaction and feeling in order to make their ship endgame. Thank you so much❤️❤️❤️

Wowza! This has got to be one of the longest asks I have ever received, hahah, congratulations and thank you for taking the time to write it to me! 

I would definitely consider doing such a meta, I am working on my Elriel debunking one currently, chipping away at it slowly! It’s a big boy.

I definitely agree that it is a very important and key point because like you said Elriel will be the trigger that pushes this story forward, giving Beron the push he needs, and also it will give or potential for Eris to step in and also Lucien by proxy. It would as you said accelerate the whole plot.

I have said before and I will say it again, Elriel brings so much plot to the story and ties in so many different characters, that say Gwynriel for arguments sake, doesn’t. I have no doubts at all who are the next POVs.

Agree with literally every ounce of your first ask, they have all the ties. There is no point mentioning The blood Duel if it is never going to come in to play, whether they actually do it or get close too it has to happen now. And if that is the case then Elriel clearly has to happen to get there! I don’t think Lucien would participate because I think he would respect Elains decision but who knows...

I feel like their is potential for his hand to be forced by say Beron or someone else, like you said though all ties roll back to Elain. And her ARC. 

I am so sorry you don’t feel like you can post it yourself, because you clearly have some great well thought out perspective, and you are well spoken. I am sure the fandom would love to hear your thoughts from you, when you are ready of course. Until then you are always welcome to come here and share with me!!

Going to answer your second one separately because I didn’t read the second one first and now I see you said to answer the other one ahhhahaha

[urlocalnctstan]

The Beauty And The Beast

Epoch 1

Autumn was here. The surroundings that were once green were now adorned in hues of orange and brown. Jaehyun flipped through the book he was currently reading, who's title went by 'Summerhill', subconsciously reminding himself to read it again as he finished it again for the hundredth time, to be precise, 113th. He sipped on his black tea as his eyes drifted towards the wooden window, observing the new change in nature. Neither seasons nor weather mattered to him, at the end of the day it would only be him all alone after all. His eyes lingered for a moment on the orange leaves until he felt the need to get up, debating silently on what library he should visit next, preferably somewhere desolate.

He despised human interaction; the hunger at times just kicks in when he can hardly control himself to stay composed. Things were not supposed to be this way, his whole family, his brothers would have been here if it were not for that dreadful malicious night. He passed through his library, the vintage touch of the best designers very prominent. The walls were transformed into wooden shelves, stained and burnished in textures of a brown oak tree. It was no surprise the whole library was filled with books, the shelves divided into 10 for all the brothers. Jaehyun did not reside on a specific genre, he loved to surf around all the categories, whilst the interests of others ranged from fantasies to science fiction. He liked the smell of the library, the odd scent of paper and wood subtly brought him comfort, for it would stage an illusion for him, making him feel that he was not the only one here. Living all alone for over 50 years has indeed made him more anti-social, his demeanor a big contrast to the one he had before all the tragedy occurred.

You on the other hand stayed still, cursing yourself for not arranging the books, and it was only seconds before the lady would recognize your negligence. You prayed, desperately clutched your hands, and silently kept praying, it was your only job and you cannot afford to lose it. As if in a response to your prayers, a man, probably in his mid-twenties entered the worn-out shabby premises, catching you off guard because literally, no one visits this rotten library. However, as he came closer, you felt your breath hitch as you took a nervous gulp; that man was breathtaking. His brown coat accentuated his broad build, the black hat perfectly resting on his black hair.

"I came to return this book," he scrunched his nose, it was enough for you to understand his distaste, slightly feeling embarrassed since you were the one who suggested it. Your manager lady similarly caught on the young man's comprehensible expression, shooting me a warning look that it could be my last chance to save my job. For a shitty library, it surprisingly paid you well.

"I am extremely sorry for my negligence sir, how about this, I'll bring you the newest and most popular books every week?" You anxiously fidgeted as you brought out the library logbook, scribbling down the return.

"I-uh...that would be very courteous of you. Thank you..." he eyes trailed on your tag, "Ms.Y/N."

"Thank you thank you thank you so much, young man, you're a lifesaver." You grabbed his hands, shaking them furiously in gratitude. His hands were oddly cold, too cold actually.

Jaehyun felt weird, it had been years since he had faced any human interaction. He quickly withdrew his hands, his now pink ears hidden by his black. Nonetheless, he was kind of grateful he would not have to face 2 hours long entourage to the library.

"I was about to lose my only regular customer, all because of your stupid choice," the lady scoffed, scrutinizing your every movement whilst you were cleaning the shelves. He was a regular but I never met him. "I shouldn't have fired the other one listening to you." She flashed you one last alarming look before storming out of the place. You let out all breathe that you had been holding while she was here, thanking heavens for not screwing up your life. While you held the book that read 'Summerhill', you could not help but let your mind wander to the only encounter you had today, apart from your manager lady's wrath. Why is it that I had failed to meet this Greek God in the past three months I’ve been working? You thought to yourself, organizing the suggestion shelf, the culprit which caused the book to land upon the hands of the Greek God, namely Jaehyun. With a loud audible huff, you decided it would be better to just organize the whole suggestion shelf, quietly reminding yourself to not be so biased on the books you chose just because the author was your favorite.

It was almost evenfall when Jaehyun reached back abode, the dilapidated exterior did no justice to its actual architectural essence, and the touches of the Victorian designs camouflaged by the overgrown bushes, the oak trees stood menacingly in the rear. At a glance, anyone would have thought it was a creepily haunted house, home to all the demonic supernatural things that could come to one’s mind. Jaehyun internally cringed for a brief moment, even after all these years, his laziness in keeping his home neat was still something he had to work on. Jaehyun felt shivers running down his spine as he thought how badly Taeyong would have reacted if he were to sight this view.

He felt his still heart tug, the probable scenarios of his brothers painting themselves in the back of his mind, how ecstatic and chaotically pleasant it would have been with them by his side, one and united again. For the first time that year, he went to the forbidden chamber in the mansion.

The room resided in the right west wing on the second floor of the villa. The long corridor that leads to the room barely had any light, the large velvet curtains were draped against the huge windows. With heavy steps he climbed up the wooden stairs, only the sounds of the woods creaking and his heavy breathing being audible. He wanted to retreat as he stood in front of the door, the wood had become too worn-out, the insects starting to make it their forever habitat. Jaehyun was unsure of the overwhelming emotions he was facing; he was hurt, scared but most importantly guilty. The fact that his brothers were in this state, all because of him, this guilt eats him up every day. He pulled the handle, the bronze material felt cold against his already cold pale skin. As he stepped inside, he was welcomed by all his brothers, standing still and lifeless. Jaehyun was cursed with loneliness for 51 years, all because he was too prideful and selfish to think of anyone else but himself. His brothers might have been the only exception; he treasured all of them with all of his heart. But he remained cold to the others, as he would call them 'outsiders'. At times when he would go out with his brothers, he would cross people suffering in cold or starvation, but never once did he have the heart to aid them with their trivial surviving necessities. Clouded in his superiority, he never claimed any of the girls he had been with, treated them as either one-night-stands or a way of passing his boring time.

One winter night, the heavens decided to test his limits of such obnoxious egoistic nature. A highly respected priestess roaming around the jungle seemed to have lost her way back, and thus decided she might just rest the night. She was always in her house, training to be more and more powerful until she became one. Completely inexperienced of human nature, her curiosity lead her to explore what it was like to live normally for a day, eventually leading to an aristocratic family's residence, the NEO Residence. They were the most powerful families of the 1800s, their fame and wealth being no new news to anyone. But she still decided to see if their wealth and fame were equivalent to their kindness. The priestess disguised herself in the clothing of a pregnant woman, her dress completely soiled and ragged; making her seem pitiful and powerless. She chanted something eerily magical, instantly transforming the calm snowfall into a vicious snowstorm.

Back at the NEO residents, the young men seemed to get baffled at the sudden change of demeanor of the weather. Johnny was the first to notice, keeping aside the book he was previously reading as he went over to the large windows of their house, the wood felt cold and beads of ice were already starting to form on the contrary side of the window glass.

“Taeil, Taeyong, what just happened?” He motioned the other two towards the window he stood in front, both failing to grasp the situation.

“Maybe it’s just an unprecedented snowstorm; don’t worry brother it’ll die soon.” He said despite feeling a bit uneasy for some reason. Neither Taeil nor Johnny could avoid their anxiousness; they felt something but could not quite comprehend the reason behind it. Similarly, the others started to take notice of the situation as well; Doyoung sprinting off to get Mark and Haechan from their rooms whilst Yuta stayed beside Jungwoo in case if he had a panic attack. But one seems to remain just as unbothered and lofty prideful as usual, Jaehyun. Winwin ushered Taeyong where Jaehyun was sitting, annoyed by his way too relaxed composure. Taeyong just nodded, as if he was telling Winwin that he would talk to Jaehyun for being like this yet again; at that point, it had become something very common for him.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Yuta sighed, rubbing the temples of his forehead.

“Neither do we brother,” Taeil said as he looked at Johnny, their worried glances meeting each other before the latter went over towards the window again.

“It is showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.” Johnny inspected before pulling over the curtains; an attempt to calm themselves down by concealing the ruckus occurring outside.

“Aren’t you all tiring out yourselves a bit too much?” Jaehyun got up from his seat, swirling the red wine gracefully in the expensive sherry glass he was holding. “Come on, brothers, it is just a snowstorm. Nothing can ever happen to us.”

“Jaehyun, can you for once stop being so obnoxious and think rationally? Do you really think it’s just a normal storm going on out there?” Winwin exclaimed, his face filled with rage.

“Not my problem, ya’ll go ahead tire yourselves out.” Jaehyun pursed his lips before returning to his seat, filling up his empty glass yet again.

Just then, they heard soft knocks coming from the main door of their house, followed by pleas for help. Taeyong rushed to the door, quickly opening as he was welcomed by the whirl of the snowstorm and a young poor pregnant lady. He quickly brought her inside before calling over Johnny and Yuta to shut the door, the force of the storm was a bit too much.

“I can’t find my way back to my house, please, let me stay for just one night.” the lady pleaded, barely holding herself up.

“Sure, no problem. We’ll ma-”

“No.” Jaehyun abruptly cut off Taeyong, staring at his intently at the lady. “You don’t have the right to, look at yourself,” Jaehyun scoffed as he stood up. “Do you really think you’re worth enough to stay here? Really?”

“Jaehyun stop it! Enough already!” Taeyong shouted, his loud voice echoing throughout the whole house. “For fuck’s sake, she’s pregnant, stop it.”

“Don’t try voicing out your opinions on me Taeyong.” Jaehyun now shifted his gaze towards his older brother, who was clearly outraged by his imprudence “Pregnant? It makes me not let her stay, even more, at least she’ll give birth to a normal human, unlike us.” He scoffed. “Or she is just gonna leave her child alone, just like our mother did.

“Stop it Jaehyun, you’re crossing it,” Taeil said calmly, contrasting his fuming self.

“Why big brother? Finally, feeling sorry for your girlfriend? Should have thought before he fed on her.”

“ENOUGH!” the lady yelled, her voice changing to her original. “My, my. My instincts were indeed right about you.” She chuckled as she looked directly towards Jaehyun, her green eyes glowing menacingly. The storm outside seemed to have shifted inside now, a tornado of green wind and sparkling dust surrounding the lady, the middle glowing with such tremendous light that the men had to cover their eyes in fear that they will go blind. As the tornado stopped, their faces went pale, they knew who she was.

“High Priestess Valery..” Haechan’s eyes widened in realization. The priestess smiled, clearly knowing the effect of authority she had on them

“Jaehyun it is huh?” She walked further towards him, whilst he still stood high despite the unsettling feeling he was then starting to feel in his half functioning heart. “You really think of yourself this high? No wonder even the headquarters nicknamed you imbecile.”

“We apologize for his gaffe, high priestess.” Taeyong knelt, the others following him.

Jaehyun felt his throat form a lump, he could not voice out an apology as he knelt for forgiveness. Disrespecting, that too the high priestess of the clan was a great omission; an act equivalent to committing high treason. Jaehyun knew he was doomed, he felt sicker and sicker as he thought about what could possibly happen next.

“I was actually looking forward to you know, rectify your spoiled little brother, but it seems to me that it is quite a handful of work.” She remarked, her bracelet with various initials glowing.

“We promise, we’ll discipline him more, high priestess.” Taeil pleaded. But Valery seemed to ignore all of their pleas.

“He needs to learn it by himself,” She said. “But you all are not quite the innocents as well.” Valery did something with her hands, fumes of lilac, and blue clouding around her fingers. A loud sound erupted as the gaseous colors spread throughout the hall, flashes of various images appearing. “Look carefully you foolish beings, look what you have been doing because of your monstrous selves.” “It wasn’t our fault, we were completely clueless as to what we were doing, and we knew nothing about our kinds,” Haechan exclaimed sorrowfully. “You kill innocents to satiate your beastly taste buds and still dare to say you’re not at fault?” Valery bellowed. “A death caused by accident or impulse is still nonetheless death to me, a murder.”

“As for you,” Valery said while pointing her forefinger towards Jaehyun. “You have shown me that not only you’re a beast outside, but also inside. I condemn you to eternal loneliness; your only family turning into lifeless statues, they can’t converse, eat, and sleep, a curse that shall remain for a lifetime if not broken within a span of 51 years, a curse that shall be broken only if a maiden chooses to fall for you despite your beastly nature.” And in a blink of an eye, she disappeared.

Jaehyun felt numb, his limbs paralyzing as he propped to the ground, seeing his brothers’ bodies turning into stones. Taeyong’s eyes glistened with tears, as it rolled down his cheeks, Jaehyun wondered if he would ever be able to free them from the wrath that befell them only because of him.   

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Honestly

Author: @cellophanerose

For: @more-ofyou-tolove

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina

Rating/Warnings: Rated G. takes place during pre-trial chapter 5 in sdr2, so it contains spoilers, mentions of self-harm/suicide/violence, and angst.  Based only on the game’s canon and differs from the anime on an important point involving Kamukura.

Prompt: What if Hajime found out he was Kamukura before Chapter 6?

Author’s notes: Thanks for the great prompt!! I hope you enjoy it! 

When Hinata opened his eyes, he began to fall.  The plunging sensation turned his stomach inside out, and he strained his eyes trying to make out anything in the total darkness.  He saw nothing, but for some reason, it didn’t make him panic.  In fact, he had trouble feeling anything at all.

All at once, he was in a familiar scene: sitting at a desk surrounded by faceless - pointless - students.  Though their figures weren’t defined, the pressure he felt from them was overwhelming as he started to sweat.  He had to get away, he had to get away, but how?  Hinata was aware of his answer now, and could no longer look away.

His desire to be talented, his all-consuming need to be anything other than himself, led him to the reserve course.  Here, it was supposed to be better - at least, that was the lie he had been fed.  But even as the scene shifted around him and the backgrounds changed, the heavy feeling wasn’t released.  In fact, it seemed to be even worse here, as if the pressure building inside of him was working with its outside equivalent to tear him to shreds.  It was too much, far too much, as a distant yet familiar pain coursed through his head.  For some reason, Hinata knew this is where it should have ended.

But it did not.

Instead, the scene stretched on and on until he was up and running.   He knew, vaguely, that this was a memory and that he was breaking some sort of script, that maybe he was going too far, but the dream wouldn’t end and the pain became too much for him to bear.  The hallway he ran through kept extending, as if offering him more and more chances to turn back.

He did not.

The scene abruptly shifted and at some point, he had stopped running.  Everything was distorted as if someone applied a filter directly to his eyes.  Hinata’s limbs moved on their own, taking up a casual pace.  A terrifying sense of dread filled him, which was at war with the overwhelming feeling of calmness felt by his body.  He caught a glimpse of something out of the window - a curtain of sharp black, but he didn’t have time to contemplate that as his body stopped at a door and reached out to open it.

I have to stop, right now! Please!

His body paid no heed to his mind as he passed through the threshold.  A group of students seated around a table looked up at him as he entered, confusion visible on their features.

Hinata made one final bid to stop whatever this was and threw everything he had into stopping his own body, but it was to no avail.

“Who-” before the student had even started her question, Hinata was moving with lethal certainty and terrifying speed as he ripped though her.  Blood splattered on his clothes as the other students cried out and jumped from their seats.  There was no point though - for whatever reason, Hinata was inhumanly fast and strong as he continued to tear through the other students.  As he took the last student’s life, he felt nothing.  He walked over to the room’s window and only then did Hinata see himself: a grim figure with long black hair and eyes as red as the blood he spilled on his clothes.  A stranger who shared his face.  A brief and light feeling of disappointment flashed through him until he was once again left with nothing.

Hinata shot up from his bed and immediately ran into the bathroom.   What little food he had eaten yesterday threatened to come back up as he hunched and cried over the toilet.  Even when the retching stopped, his whole frame continued shaking with the force of his sobs.

There was no way that was real - logically, it was impossible…so why was guilt pouring out of every nerve of Hinata’s body? Guilt and regret were overflowing, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t make sense of it.

After what had to be at least a half an hour, Hinata stood up on unsteady legs to wash the sweat and tears off of his face.  Every bone in his body ached and the shaking still hadn’t stopped as he turned the faucet on as cold as possible, collecting the water in his hands and throwing it in his face.  He didn’t want to face himself, but he forced himself to look in the mirror to chase away the doubts in his mind.  All the mirror reflected was a drained and sick-looking Hinata, with his normal green eyes and short brown hair.  Hinata felt something akin to relief and made his way back to bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, but couldn’t bring himself to lie down.  Despite his body being exhausted, his head was buzzing with activity.  He curled in on himself, clawing at his biceps and dragging his nails across the length of his arms.  The sting felt good, but it wasn’t enough.  He gripped harder and he tried to chase away the dream by digging his nails into his skin as deep as he could.  He had stopped crying, at least.

…Was he capable of such atrocities?  Hinata didn’t want to think so, but doubt needled his mind. That sort of directionless slaughter he saw could only be done by a monster, and now Hinata wasn’t so sure he wasn’t one.

A lot had happened earlier that day, he reasoned to himself.  He had woken up on the brink of starvation and to another dead friend, learned from Komaeda that he really was just a talentless nobody, and then watched yet another classmate be executed after working through the class trial.

This was Komaeda’s fault, in the end.  Komaeda had gone and unlocked those unpleasant memories of being a reserve course student.  It was easy to be mad at Komaeda, to shift all blame onto him, and Komaeda seemed eager to be contrarian and rude to everyone since learning Hinata’s true nature.  But…if the earlier memories were true, what did that mean for his dream?  What was that dark visage he had seen in the windows of the school?  He was no murderer, or at least he thought.

Wasn’t Komaeda saying something to that extent?  Right before the class trial, Komaeda went off on a seemingly unrelated tangent about some book.

“The story is told from the point-of-view of a high school girl involved in a serial killer mystery…But when you get to the end…Surprise, surprise!  The girl was actually the killer!”

“The protagonist is just a projection of the reader…And this projection turns out to be the killer… Which means…”

“‘The killer you were looking for the whole time was inside of you all along,’ he said,”  Hinata repeated Komeada’s earlier words to himself, shaken by the implications he only now picked up.  He hastily jumped up as a revelation struck him.

“Komaeda said the Hope’s Peak file only contained information about me, and how I was from the Reserve Department, but…what if there was more to it than that?”  From the start, Hinata knew Komaeda wasn’t divulging everything he had learned from clearing the Final Dead Room, but he was too caught up in learning he was a reserve student to question it further.  Now, though…

“I - I need to know…!” Hinata was full of manic energy, as he rushed out the front door, forgoing even putting on his shoes, to go and confront Komaeda.  His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as it became all too clear to him that Komaeda had found something in those files that caused such a shift in his demeanor, and the odds that it pertained to what Hinata had just dreamed were worryingly high.  He didn’t bother to quiet his footfalls - if any of the remaining few classmates heard him, then so be it.  It must have been past 2:00 AM, but Hinata could not bring himself to care as he slammed his fist against Komaeda’s cabin door.  The lights inside the cabin flickered on and he heard Komaeda approaching the door.  There was no turning back now.

The look of disdain was clear on Komaeda’s face when he opened the door, but he appeared awake and alert.

“Really, Hinata-kun, I knew that you lacked any talent, but your added lack of consideration or timing is appalling,” Komaeda sneered, as his eyes raked over Hinata.  “…Are you even aware your arms are bleeding?”  No, in fact, Hinata had completely disregarded anything else besides his current goal, bodily injuries and humiliation included.

“That’s not important,” Hinata urged, “Let me in.”  Komaeda did not look impressed. “Hm, I would say it is important, seeing as how you’re getting blood on everything.”  Those innocuous words hit Hinata with another wave of nausea as he knelt down and held his head in his hands.  Komaeda’s eyes widened and he stood up straight from his casual leaning on the doorframe as he watched Hinata crumble in front of him and take loud, gulping breaths.  Komaeda knew the signs of a panic attack when he saw them, and through the cocktail of feelings he was bottling up at the moment, a bizarre urge to help welled up.

“Get in here,” Komaeda said, as he kneeled down to hoist Hinata back on his feet, keeping in consideration his injured arms.  After placing Hinata unceremoniously on his bed, he grabbed a cup of water and forced it in Hinata’s direction.  It seemed to take a few seconds for Hinata to process this, but after Komaeda coaxed Hinata’s hands out of his hair, Hinata grabbed hold of the cup and began drinking.  No words were exchanged as Komaeda flitted across his room, searching for something to clean and cover Hinata’s arms with.

Hinata kept his eyes trained on Komaeda while he finished his water and set the cup aside, unsure of what to make of the current situation. He had calmed down, somewhat, and was at a loss for how to now approach asking Komaeda for the file.  In his march over here, he imagined demanding the file from Komaeda, letting his anger carry him through his thought-up scenario.  But now, even after some snide remarks, Komaeda was running a wet towel over his arms, wiping off the blood and revealing the angry red marks that were easily identifiable.  

Komaeda kept his touch to a minimum and his mouth shut tight as he grabbed some bandages and began wrapping up Hinata’s arms.  The wounds were clearly self-inflicted…of course learning you have no talent would be devastating, but had it really driven Hinata to panic and hurt himself? Or…

When Komaeda finished his bandaging, Hinata avoided eye contact when he mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’, which Komaeda responded to with a quick nod.  Unsaid things hung heavily between the two of them.  The energy that carried Hinata over here was long gone, but his desire hadn’t changed.  Finally, he spoke up.

“I need to see my student profile, Komaeda.”  ‘Ah, so it is about being a reserve,’ Komaeda thought bitterly.

“Do you truly distrust me that much, Hinata-kun?  Or do you need to see it in black and white to face the truth?  Like I said, that’s all there was to it.  Just the fact that you are talentless and desperate to be accepted by Hope’s Peak..” Komaeda wanted to be resentful, but he couldn’t muster up much anger in the face of Hinata looking so small.

“There’s more, isn’t there?!”  There wasn’t any desperation in Hinata’s voice like Komaeda had expected.  All he heard was agony.   Komaeda watched as angry tears welled up in Hinata’s eyes, threatening to overflow, causing Komaeda’s own eyes to prickle.  “What did I do…?” Hinata whispered, most likely to himself.  There was something happening behind the scenes that Komaeda couldn’t see, and it scared him.

“Why are you here, Hinata-kun?”  They both knew that Komaeda was asking a different question, but neither of them acknowledged it.   Hinata didn’t answer him, choosing instead to stare blankly ahead.  Just when Komaeda was ready to call out to him, he spoke up.

“You know that book you were talking about?”  Hinata’s voice was surprisingly steady, as if he wasn’t fully there at the moment.  Both the words and the tone caught Komaeda off-guard.  “The one about the serial killer.”  As if Hinata had to specify.  Komaeda held his breath, knowing that whatever happened next was out of his control - he had simply poured gasoline near a fire ready to ignite.  “Were the girl and the killer really the same person?  Did she truly just…forget?”

Hinata’s cold stare landed squarely on Komaeda, eyes flickering with something intangible.  It caused a shiver to run down his spine.  “Or is it more accurate to say the girl we knew never existed?”  Komaeda was pinned in place just from Hinata’s deadly glare - not that he would go anywhere, but the lack of control frightened him.  He knew he had to choose his words carefully.

Unfortunately, it was easier said than done.

“Does it matter, in the end?  Memories or not, a killer is a killer, right, Hinata-kun?”  They were all Ultimate Despair - it didn’t matter how they got there, or that they didn’t remember it.  Whatever Hinata had remembered, or thought he remembered, changed nothing.  It’s unforgivable.  Unforgivable, especially for you, who was supposed to be the Ultimate Hope..!

“Of course it matters!” Hinata rose to his feet in anger.  “How am I supposed to know who I am if it doesn’t? The person I see…he isn’t me. Am I…Am I…?”  Hinata gasped and held his throbbing head as angry tears started cascading down his face.

Did Hinata know?  What Hope’s Peak had done to him?

“His name - my name - was…”  The embers licked at both of their feet.  All that was left was to burn.

“Izuru Kamukura.”

With those two words, the flames erupted to life around them.   Komaeda’s heart beat hard against his chest, as if trying to escape the inferno.  He held his breath, uncertain if there was any air left in the room.

“But I’m not him…! Right? Komaeda?!  Am I the lie, or is he?!”  With dizzying speed, Hinata was in front of him, hands latched onto Komaeda’s arms.  “Would I even want to exist if that…that thing was really me?”  Desperate for an anchor, he leaned his body against Komaeda until Komaeda was forced to put his arms around his waist so they wouldn’t fall.

But if we could fall together, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

“So you have to tell me,” Hinata’s voice rumbled against Komaeda’s shoulder.  The entire situation was completely overwhelming, both mentally and physically.  Komaeda had never been this close to anyone.   He felt needed - something he couldn’t remember happening before, and that heady sensation may be why the tight grip on his façade had loosened, even for himself.

He couldn’t bring himself to hate Hinata, no matter how much he tried.  The Hinata he knew didn’t deserve even a fraction of what Komaeda was currently facing alone.  Komaeda was willing to put his life down for the sake of hope, and despised despair with every fraction of his being.  This was a fact.  Komaeda was also in love with Hinata - well-meaning, hapless Hinata who admired hope, was strong in so many ways Komaeda wasn’t, and was loved by everyone.  This was also a fact.   These two conflicting truths warred in his mind constantly since he learned their shared history.  Lashing out at everyone, especially Hinata, felt good, or at least he had originally thought.  Now though, seeing Hinata so hurt that he would go to even Komaeda for resolution, he felt a strong pang of regret.  Would any of this have happened if he didn’t reveal anything about the student files?  Would he still have torn up his own arms?  Even now, Komaeda was hurting Hinata, by not telling him the full truth, by letting Hinata be held by someone who would betray him, who would die.  His next words fell out of his mouth without his permission.

“I’ll tell you what I know about him.  Call it a farewell present, to the you I…” ‘Thought I knew’? ‘Loved’?  It didn’t matter. Komaeda did not let himself fall further than he already had.  Hinata’s face was still buried in Komaeda’s shoulder, but the grip he had on Komaeda’s biceps tightened, signalling that Komaeda had his attention.

“Like I told you, you were just a reserve course student, completely ordinary with no stand-out traits. Maybe it was that complete lack of any semblance of talent that made them choose you - or maybe it was just luck.”  Komaeda poured all of his strength into keeping his voice steady and even, to reveal as little as possible, but even he had to scoff at the phrase ‘just luck’.  “In any case, you were chosen for an experimental procedure which would theoretically implant talent into you.  You would have every talent the school had ever seen, truly someone worthy of being Ultimate Hope.”  Komaeda paused to imagine it, and to steel himself for the next part.

“However, instead of becoming a beacon of hope, Kamukura was just as bad as the others.  Ah, but I’m no better, either…”  Komaeda didn’t feel the need to specify who the others were or what that meant.  He had a feeling Hinata wouldn’t care once he heard what came next.  “The file said there wasn’t a trace of Hajime Hinata left in him.  Whether it was intentional or not I don’t know, but you no longer existed.”  Komaeda heard Hinata’s sharp intake of breath and felt him stiffen.  “And that’s where it ended.”  Komaeda may have been feeling sentimental, but to say anything more than that would put his plans in severe jeopardy.  He couldn’t risk Hinata knowing the whole truth and piecing together Komaeda’s intentions.  None of this mattered in the end, he told himself, even if the thought caused his grip on Hinata to tighten.  They stood in their awkward embrace for a while, before Hinata finally regained some composure and took a step back.  He didn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed.  Instead, he felt as if a chasm had opened up and was ready to swallow him whole.  After he was able to convince himself that he wasn’t going to disappear, he forced himself to ask Komaeda something he couldn’t possibly know the answer to.

“Then…who am I?”  Hinata let out an empty laugh.  “You said that I stopped existing, but that’s a lie, right? Right now, everything feels too real, and I can’t deny that what I feel is real, too.  Maybe I’m in hell for killing all of those people…maybe that’s how a ghost can mistake himself for a human.  There isn’t a single thing about me that was ever real, is there?”  Hinata’s mind and mouth were both wandering, looking for a truth to latch onto.  “In the end, I must just be a well-made lie.”  And isn’t that depressing?  Being a lie who had forgotten along the way that he was a cheap imitation of something that may have once existed - being something fake, yet still forced to feel this all-real pain.

“You’re wrong.”  Hinata jolted at the fierceness with which Komaeda said those two words.  Some color came back into his sight, and for once, he felt something other than dread pounding in his heart.

“To me, you’ll always be Hajime Hinata.  You exist as you are now, whether you like it or not.  Maybe to anyone else you aren’t real, but you are to me.”  Hinata looked at him owlishly, and Komaeda’s blood immediately drained from his face.  That was too much. “ A-A talentless reserve like yourself isn’t allowed to decide if he’s real or not.  Quit acting so presumptuous, forcing your worldview onto everyone else.”  He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, as well.  This is ridiculous. Komaeda was now looking everywhere but Hinata, willing his heart to quit beating so fast.  It almost worked, too, until he heard a muffled sob coming from Hinata.

His eyes locked back onto him, who was covering his mouth with one hand while using his other to blindly feel behind him for the bed and, without fanfare, crashed into it. His hand fell from his mouth, releasing with it the sound of unhinged laughter.  His face was contorted into a hysterical grin and tears were once again gathering in his eyes.  Komaeda had no idea how to deal with this, so he didn’t.  He wasn’t sure his voice would reach Hinata like this, anyways.

“Of course you would say something like that,” Hinata said breathlessly as the laughter died down.  Hinata looked at Komaeda - truly looked at him for perhaps the first time, without being blinded by admiration or hurt or betrayal, and felt a slurry of emotions, but above all, a connection.  A desire to get closer.  A hope that, maybe someday, when everything was over…

Things clicked into place for Hinata while on the other hand Komaeda was absolutely baffled.  He gets the distinct feeling that he’d been caught somehow, though.  He certainly felt transparent - so transparent, in fact, that unless he stopped this now, Hinata would see through to his desires and try to stop him.  What’s worse is that Komaeda was sure Hinata wouldn’t have to try all that hard to convince him to want to live, and that thought was frightening.  His mind flashed back to hospitals and diagnoses that served as death sentences.  He cannot - will not - cling desperately to a life that will soon be over when he could at least use his death in a meaningful way.

While Komaeda stewed in his own thoughts, Hinata began reaching out to grab his hand when suddenly the gravity of the situation hit him like a brick house.  He just let Komaeda comfort him, and that comfort caused Hinata to see things that weren’t there.  He came to Komaeda to get answers about himself because he knew Komaeda wasn’t telling him the whole truth.  Who’s to say he wasn’t hiding more?   The feeling welling up inside Hinata was far too dangerous, and he snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned.  He had felt so sure, but the doubts still started creeping in.  Komaeda caught the motion as he stared at Hinata, hurt and relief warring in his mind.  Hinata stood up suddenly, eyes glued to the floor.  He needed to get out, he had too much on his mind, he can’t deal with this-

“I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“…Me neither.”

What appeared to be an agreement masked the multiple layers of misunderstanding and fear, but they were both stubborn and scared, so they let it fall.  Hinata took a shuddering breath and walked to the door.  It hurt too much to face Komaeda as he said, “Thanks for everything.”  He heard Komaeda hum in response, but couldn’t see the despair swirling in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Hinata-kun.”  And, without another word, the night ended.

Days later, when Hinata is crouched beside Komaeda’s corpse, he thinks, ‘Ah, so this really is hell.’

“Goodbye, Komaeda.”

[monchikyun]

XX. blame

Have they really come this far? As he wanders through the endless corridor, this reality seems almost too impossible to be true, yet he feels it with the same clarity as when a glass shard split his nose in two. He tries to run at his full speed, frantically almost, all to reach his new-found soulmate who has suddenly disappeared in a whirlwind of white ash, the same one that has brought him here. But his feet are much too heavy and he uses all the energy he has just lifting them up, slowly as can be. 

Everything around him is strangely blurry and unfocused, though he doesn’t even notice, for his head is too preoccupied with its efforts to lose the heat making him imagine various inappropriate scenarios reserved only for two consenting adults, of which one of the two involved parties can classify as neither, technically. 

Gavin sweats, breathing growing rapid as he lugs his body towards the brilliant light that gets further away the closer he gets. It doesn’t make any sense, yet he’s only vaguely aware of this since there are more pressing issues to be dealt with. Like the overwhelming need making him push through this nonsense in the first place. He doesn’t think about what he’ll do once he finds Connor, just that his presence will most definitely help, somehow. Maybe the wrongness of it all keeps him from reaching that handsome android, the fact that they haven’t crossed those boundaries on the outside of this distorted world. If only his aching body cared about that at all, he wouldn’t end up in this mess then. Gavin stops his movement, although reluctantly, and sneaks his hand towards the place that’s causing him so much trouble. It’s something that he’s very reluctant to do, here of all places, in a state that knows no boundaries. Anything could happen. Countless variations of absurd events are waiting for him just beyond the veil of consciousness. That alone he could tolerate, survive too, if he’s lucky enough. But there’s one scenario that could very well end him. 

He could wake up. 

His eyelids twitch like they’re set to separate from the rest of his face, his mind returning back to the warm bed in some inexpensive motel room, and the sudden realisation comes knocking, bringing gifts of fear and anxiety. For several seconds he strives not to acknowledge any of this, but he can sense that this dream has had tragic consequences, ones which have unfortunately transferred into the waking world. Delaying the clean-up will only make matters worse, so he pries his eyes open and scans his immediate surroundings for a sign of his poor friend. 

As his sight adjusts to the dim lighting, he feels brave enough to call himself partly fortunate, for the bed appears to be empty - if he doesn’t count his sinful vessel. 

He runs his hands down his face, wishing he could just merge with the mattress because this might just be the most humiliating thing that he has lived through… since September, at least. If it were with any other guy he would just laugh and brush it off but when it comes to Connor, everything is just… different. He tries to be extra cautious with the one person he loves as if a single small mistake could sever their fledgling of a bond. It wouldn't, though, or at least he tries to wholeheartedly believe that their link can withstand almost all difficult circumstances and that he’s only overreacting because that’s just how his fucked-up mind works.

 He slides his hands away from his damp eyes and finally dares to scope the room in search of his friend, finding out that he’s the only person there. This development should be a blessing when he takes his embarrassing accident into consideration, though it worries him more than anything else. Knowing Connor and his legion of issues, he wouldn’t be surprised if the android has gone out of his way do something stupid. Especially after their little heart-to-heart of last night. His partner didn’t look so hot back then,... though only mentally, of course. Still, he chooses to implement all of the trust he holds for the person and opts to first tackle the predicament he’s been put in.

 He handles said issue with a record speed, thanks to the many years of practice he’s managed to gather. The last step is to change out of his sleeping clothes into something more appropriate, and when he finally gets to it and opens the wardrobe, he comes upon the hideous sweater that Connor threw at him a couple of days ago. He picks it up with a simulated contempt, briefly pondering whether he’ll ever be willing to put on such atrocity. To him, such a possibility is quite unlikely, though he doesn’t ever see himself discarding it. This ugly piece of garment is more valuable than anything within the endless black hole which is his closet. Maybe that’s why he can’t force himself to wear it, for fear of ruining it. Yes, that’s must be it. 

Shaking his head in disbelief of his ridiculous thinking patterns, he chuckles and chucks the sweater on the now clean bed. 

After he dons his jacket, the dread starts creeping in, faster than he’d prefer. He hasn’t had any clue of what he’s doing ever since he’s woken up from his strange dream this morning. Actually, it’s been like this for far longer. It seems like this December ushered in some kind of courage that has served as their willing matchmaker. 

He sighs and opens the front door, immediately regretting this decision. The cold wind assails him right as he takes his first step outside, but he’s too busy warding off the onslaught of snowflakes for his head to even register it properly. Maybe he should have just called Connor instead of venturing outside like the idiot he is. A few curses form on his tongue before he sets to walk away from the building. 

Something stops him in his tracks before he even has the chance to adapt to the current unfriendly environment, startling him out of his determination to brave the adjoining highway. 

His brain tells him that the sound coming in through his ears is a voice most familiar, information that supplies him with instant relief. 

When he turns his head towards the wall, his heart melts at the sight of a puppy-eyed android standing stiff, lips forming the slightest of smiles. He's covered from head to toe in snow since the small roof above them can't shield anyone from the unyielding blizzard. 

“What the phck are you doing here.” 

Gavin’s reaction is in direct dissonance with what’s going on inside of him. Frankly, he’s expected nothing less of himself. All he longs to do is to rid Connor of the unnecessary snowflake layer and warm him up. It makes him shiver just looking at the android-like ice statue. Maybe his partner can't feel cold, but Gavin, being a mere human, certainly can. 

He doesn't give Connor a space to answer, tugging him inside the moment he snaps out of the initial shock of realising he won't have to go all panic mode searching for the unpredictable tin can in this raw weather. 

“I thought you’d appreciate some privacy, so I went ahead and gave you space to… sort yourself out.”  

Gavin feels himself combust and wishes the flames would turn him into ash. Much more preferable outcome than having to confront his subconscious bodily reactions and their inevitable effect on his bed-mate. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, the last attempt to escape this uncomfortable situation or at least to postpone whatever is coming his way, ready to make him question his entire existence, he’s sure. It usually tends to go in that direction. Dealing with personal failures in a healthy manner is a skill he’s lacking, which in itself is just another of his shortcomings. His mind really does dislike him. 

“Sorry for that,” he mumbles, not facing the person to whom the apology belongs. He still has trouble putting his stupid flushed mug on display for anyone to see, but maybe he’s willing to grant an exception. There are many things he wouldn’t do for Connor, but showing him his true face, no matter how compromised, doesn’t have to be one of them. 

“I figured you’d be blaming yourself for it,” Connor says, not a speck of disdain in his voice. No pity or exasperation to be heard anywhere. 

So he turns to stand in front of him, trying hard to pretend that this doesn’t dismay him. 

“It’s a natural reaction caused by the close proximity of-”

“You don’t have to give me a presentation on how the human body works, I am very familiar with this subject.” He couldn’t help but cut him off, since the words were physically grating his skin. What a fucking joke this is. When he at long last thought that things are going to be fine, when he accepted that there’s not a better sensation than being held by a loved one, his thirsty mind had to go ahead and ruin everything. Connor won’t most likely want to sleep with him after this, a premise that stabbed him right in his aching chest. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t mind. It’s only that I didn’t know how you’d react so I chose to leave instead of finding out. I should be the one to feel guilty.” 

“As if you don’t have enough guilt on your plate already.” 

Gavin dreads that this conversation will become a sex talk, something he wouldn’t be able to bear at the moment. It’s too soon. They haven’t even had a proper kiss yet, a fact that might just be one of the reasons for his intense dream.  

That doesn’t mean he plans to rush things, the pace they’ve set for themselves is surprisingly enjoyable. He’s never experienced something so cautious and yet intimate, and he doesn’t want to be the one to destroy it. 

Connor looks at him with eyes that betray just how tired he is of being reminded of the thing for which he blames himself so much. Some pleasant distraction seems to be in order. He waits for him to turn around and walk further in, a perfect opening for a surprise attack.

Gavin snakes his arms around the android’s waist, successfully halting his movement. Chest pressed to his back, he senses the outside chill that is still clinging to his body. Not for much longer, though. As he places his head on Connor’s shoulder two icy hands cover his own ones, and so he can finally share the heat that has been raging inside of him this whole time. Finally a suitable outlet,... of sorts. The problem is that the longer they touch the stronger burns the fire. 

After a minute or two of serving as a human heater, Connor sets himself free of his grasp and situates himself in front of him, taking his crimson cheeks in his now warmed-up hands. Gavin only just catches his tiny smile before he closes his eyes, getting himself ready for what might come next. 

“Gavin,” Connor whispers, which causes his heart to beat furiously like it’s trying to intimidate him into running away from this encounter. He doesn’t listen, though, too busy melting in the heavenly inferno that rages inside. 

“Go pack your things while I’ll clean the rest of the room.” 

A small peck on the forehead later, he’s left standing paralysed while the android’s already gone ahead to make the beds. He fiercely tries to cool himself down, feeling the tips of his ears still scorching, skin flushed red from the fruitless expectations. 

In all this discomposure of his, he forgot that today is their last day here. They have to leave and resume their day-to-day lives. But who says that they must go back their separate routes when all they really need is a caring family. He’s already invited Connor into his home, so now all they must do is to go through with it. It should scare him, the concept of giving so much of himself to another person, but no matter how much he dwells on it, the worry never appears. Perhaps the excitement has overshadowed all the bad and he can’t bring himself to think that it can still be lurking in a dark corner. 

Either way, he doesn’t care, since his mind is too busy admiring the view in front of him. 

He’s okay. This is okay. He’ll just smear some snow on the affected areas and his body will be fresh and ready to go. At least for a while.

[traumathings]

hi there, I was wondering if you could give me some examples of trauma reactions? i'm not tirelessly sure if i've been experiencing anything like it or not and I'm honestly very confused with myself

hey there. well trauma reactions is just the term I created to describe some things, I’m honestly not sure it is “a thing” in real trauma psychology you know

but what I mean by that is when you’re talking to someone, maybe a new friend, a new crush, basically someone you don’t know well enough yet. And they say or do something that in some way, shape or form, reminds a part of your brain of your trauma. I’ll give you a real example that happened to me. 

I was talking to someone from tinder. We went on a date, but after that I wasn’t feeling like there were romantic feelings. It felt like a friendship. I thought that it would be best to let them know that, just in case they felt differently, since I still wanted to be friends.

However rejecting someone or telling them I am not interested triggered a huge trauma reaction because last fucking time I tried to do that, a traumatic event happened. So I spent days anxious, trying to mentally prepare what I was gonna say, trying to pass over scenarios in my head of what could go on, dreading the act of telling them. But the thing is, they never gave me ANY reason to believe they would react poorly to me saying this. It was entirely motivated by my trauma and nothing on reality, so I call it a trauma reaction. In the end it went alright, but I still reacted like it wouldn’t because trauma told me otherwise.

Another example of this is trying to explain to someone why you need them to go slowly on dating, and then tripping over your words and getting crazy anxious and giving way more explanations than you need, even tho the person hasn’t even asked for any explanations, because you’re used to having to explain every little thing you do and if it’s not a “good enough” explanation you won’t be listened to.

Another example is when you were berated growing up for saying no, so now instead of being to the point and just telling someone you don’t wanna do something, you beat around the bush and start going in circles trying to communicate something simple because you’re afraid of what the consequence would be to just outright saying no. There are a lot of examples, but I think this illustrates well.

Basically trauma reactions are anything you do motivated by past trauma instead of the current circumstance you are actually in. The best way to notice this is when the person reacts completely different than what you expected (because what you were expecting was abuse). Then the trauma reaction becomes very obvious. It might have another name lol But that’s how I call it

edit: and in regards to my last post, what I meant was to not fall into the trap of thinking your brain fabricated the reaction out of nothing. You can see in all the examples I gave that something did happen. Either you were put in a situation where previously something bad happened, or in the more triggering cases, the person’s behavior actually resembled what someone abusive did, even if there were no real harmful intentions behind it. We trauma people can fall into the trap of thinking the reactions are out of the blue and then fail to properly recognize what triggered it or even to realize what the person did that may have caused it,  and then you can’t discuss with them a better way for them to communicate with you. If you convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re reacting to nothing, you won’t be able to properly communicate with the people around you and you might trick yourself into thinking you’re more ready to do something than you actually are.

[snarkwrites]

Title: snowbound pt 1 of 2/3

Theme: snow

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: First up. I preface with two strong warnings.. I am not a medical professional in any capacity. Second, I am only kind of a casual Star Wars fan, so Idk how things work in their universe as compared to here on Earth. The actual warnings here are blood!tw and injury!tw. Again, I remind you. I am neither a veteran star wars fan nor a medical professional. So, some things may be entirely wrong. And Ben Solo is most likely written totally OOC as he is not a character I am used to writing, by any stretch although i love him with my whole heart... Anyway... The warnings are: Blood!TW, Injury!TW, OOC fandom character and a strong dose of hurt comfort / fluff in the next parts I kind of hope i get to do for this. This part is so long because I was using it to sort of set things in motion..

Word Count: 2k. Listen, I was setting things up and got carried away, rip me.

Listen... You all just don’t fucking understand how much I love Kylo/Ben... I know, I know, he’s a bad guy. Anyway, this is me doing something I’ve literally been dying to do, a scenario in which Ben somehow winds up Earthbound just in time for the holidays...This is my daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place around the end of November/beginning of December. Part two will take place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

So, here’s the thing.. There really isn’t anyone on my Star Wars masterlist and like... I haven’t really written anything Star Wars related... Until now. So, if you want to be tagged in my star wars stuff, click the little link below or send me an ask/dm on my main and I’ll happily add you.

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“What the hell?”

The boom from outside had the windows to my grandma’s old cabin rattling and I quickly sat up just in time to look out the window at the head of my bed to see a bright flash of blue as it disappeared beyond the treeline across the road.

,, Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” my brain nagged at me the whole time I was slipping on the jeans I’d worn earlier in the day. That nagging only grew as I slipped on my warmest boots and by the time I had my daddy’s old shotgun loaded and I was heading out the door, I wasn’t entirely sure if going over to see what the hell was going on in the woods across from my house was a good idea or not.

I mean yeah, the odds were that some idiot kids were racing around Deadman’s curve and one crashed.. Or a drunk trying to drive home on an icy road hit black ice and lost control… At the thoughts of what probably happened, I stopped in the middle of the road and felt my back pocket.

As soon as my fingers grazed the cool weight of my cell phone, I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the woods on the other side of the little country road.

My eyes were adjusting to the semi darkness, so when the wrecked craft came into view just a few feet into the trees, I had to stop and really stare at it, rubbing my eyes.

“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth in a soft gasp as all the breath left my body. I knew exactly what I had to be looking at by now… And rather than turn and walk away, back to my grandma’s cabin, I kept moving closer. Pushing through bushes and trees and overgrown weeds and dead grass as I made my way towards the clearing to get a better look.

I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, because everybody knows there’s a damn good reason we have a military base on the outskirts of our little town and we all know they’re not testing weather balloons out there.. I knew that if this were a military thing, there would most likely be a cover-up.

So I did what anybody would and I pulled out my camera, recording the crash site and taking a few pictures of the craft as I walked around it slowly.

I froze completely when I heard a wounded groan.

Now, I’d assumed that whoever crashed whatever this… Thing.. Was… they’d gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the crash was over.

,,Or they were dead on contact because the impact was really hard.’’ my brain finished. I glanced all around the clearing that the craft crashed in the middle of. Everything was silent. Almost deathly silent, as if something had come along and sucked up all the sounds and background noise. I shivered and hugged myself, swearing under my breath about not having the presence of mind to stop for a jacket or grab my first aid kit on my way over here...

A scream died on my lips when I felt a strong grip wrap around my ankle as soon as I stepped closer to the wrecked craft, bending down to peer inside, my phone out and ready to call for emergency services.

When I looked down, after I dove away as quickly as possible, of course, I swallowed hard and tried to find words.

“Help.”

As he said it, I got the distinct feeling that this was not a word he enjoyed saying, not at all.

I could only nod and when my brain finally felt it had enough time to process what was going on, it kicked into overdrive.

“Can you pull yourself out?” I finally managed to ask the question.

“Trapped.” the word came on the heels of words that were totally unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I knew instinctively that this guy had to be swearing up a storm and in immense pain.

I guess tonight’s one of the few reasons I’m glad I went into the medical field instead of becoming a horror novelist or a starving artist like I used to want to when I was a kid. Tonight my years of school and training and the experience I’d gotten thus far as an intern at the hospital in town was all going to come in handy.

Because the lack of military vehicles or police by now only meant one thing to me.

The military either didn’t know yet so this gave me a chance to finally do something about the way they were polluting the water supply and making people sick or… Nobody knew about this.

Laughing softly at the thought that I might’ve stumbled onto an alien crash landing, I bent lower, peering into the smashed window and I dug around in my jeans pocket until I found my dad’s old pocket knife.

“I’m gonna.. I’ll try to cut you out, okay?” I muttered. He grunted, a light pained scowl playing at gorgeous and full lips.

I leaned inside a little, swearing as I felt shards of glass.. Or whatever the material was on the windows, digging into my hand..As soon as I got a good look, I realized that he wasn’t trapped by a harness or belt of any kind.

He was trapped because when the craft he was inside made impact, the damn thing basically folded like a soda can. I winced. Drawing a few sharp and shaky breaths, the fog from their warmth lingering in the air as I tried to stop and think.

I should be calling EMTS. I should be leaving him here because everything I’ve ever learned about accidents of any kind clearly predicates that if someone is hurt and you don’t know how fucking bad, you don’t move them.

But here’s the problem with that knowledge and my current situation… If I didn’t do something, then either that military installation was going to get away with the shit they’ve been doing the past few years since they mysteriously popped up on the outskirts, show up to finish this guy off in the time it took me to get help on the way… And then they might just do me in also because I had evidence and proof that they were up to something shady out there... Or… They’d find him and take him back to the base and do God only knew what to him.

,, but he might be an alien…” my brain gave me the gentle reminder and the counter argument arose almost immediately, ,, he can’t be. He looks like I do. He looks human. I can’t just turn my back and leave the guy… If he is military and they do realize what’s happened, he’s as good as dead… And I cannot live with someone’s blood on my hands.” 

And with that thought, I proceeded to try and figure out the safest way I could to go about breaking years of protocol that had been drilled into my brain.

I started with the obvious. I leaned in, my body brushing against him as I raised my hand, pressing my fingers to his neck, feeling for the jugular so I could attempt to see if his pulse was steady.

He groaned quietly and I explained in a hushed tone, trying to keep him calm, “I’m trying to take your pulse… to make sure it’s okay to move you if I can get you loose. Because we’re gonna have to get you out of here somehow.”

He merely nodded. I almost asked if he spoke the same language as me, but that was a later question. I was still operating under the assumption that I was working with a very small time frame, either way. 

Because even if the military didn’t know what happened out here, they would soon.. Because this just felt like something they would be aware of or become aware of. And I wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the guy, especially when he was injured and far too weak to fight them off.

Or so I thought…

,, where the hell am I? What happened? Need to.. Get out of here. Get back to the others.”

I heard it so clearly that for a second or so, I thought he might’ve actually spoken. I answered quietly, “You’re in Montana. Apparently, you crashed whatever the hell this thing is. If you’ll be still and stay calm sir, I’m trying to get you out of here. We have to hurry. If those damn military guys realize what happened and come down, we’re both probably fucked.” and continued checking him over.

I dreaded what I was about to have to try and do, because if there was any internal injury, I was about to make it worse. The goal, I decided mentally, was to move him as carefully but as quickly as possible.

He gritted his teeth and gave another long and wounded grunt as he seemed to pick up on my rush and started trying to maneuver his legs free from the part holding them in place.

“Okay, whoa. Easy, sir. Stop moving, damn it!” I said frantically, eyes widening as they settled on the dark depths of his eyes.

He glared at me, speaking in a calm but firm tone. “I have to get out of here.”

“And if you’ll go about this carefully, like I said before, you might actually live through this. I don’t know if you’ve been injured internally or not. I won’t know how severe your injuries are until I’m back at my cabin. I’m hoping that since you’re vocal enough to be an entire stubborn ass right now, that you’re really not seriously injured.” I snapped back because he’d snapped at me just seconds before.

He eyed me, almost wary. Almost as if he weren’t entirely sure whether to trust me. But I stared him down, firmly as I could. He managed to get his legs free and clear of the way they’d been pinned somehow and if I hadn’t thought the guy might be strong as an ox when he grabbed my ankle before, I now knew that fact beyond a shadow of doubt.

Oh, he grunted and groaned and growled in pain the entire time, but he seemed to be entirely too stubborn for his own good, too hell bent on getting himself out.

Once he was slowly pulling himself through the busted glass and lying on the snow, I cleared my throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to a sitting position in the snow. The form fitting black garment he wore on his upper body was shredded in a place or two from the way he’d pulled himself through the window of the wreckage.

“Do you think you can walk? Because we need to figure something out.” I asked the question as I worked on keeping calm. But I was in a bit of a panic see, because internal injuries are difficult to spot and often, they go unnoticed until the person injured either dies or suffers massive complications. And I knew that me, moving him as little as I had and then him freeing himself from the wreckage somehow and all that movement… It was tempting fate, in my own opinion, but I was that determined not to let all this be covered up or to have this man’s blood on my hands.

He looked as if he were going to attempt it and I stood, holding my hands out to him to at least try to help him. But after the second or third attempt, the fight or flight response within me kicked in and I was… Growing impatient to get him indoors and both of us hidden away somewhere safely.

“I’ve got an ATV up at the cabin. It’s literally just across the road at the top of the hill… I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Are we clear?” I didn’t mean to bark it at him like an order, I guess I just assumed at the time that if he were a soldier who worked that base, he was used to it.

He bit his lip and eyed me.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” that firm tone, I won’t even begin to go into the effect it had on me, but I was the one who wasn’t injured and didn’t possibly have the US Armed Forces about to pop up at any second, so I had to act as if nothing he did or said had any sort of effect on me at all.

And god was it ever hard!

“Which one of us crashed a fucking piece of government property and is injured, sir?” my hand dragged through damp hair and tugged a little as I tapped my boot against the crunchy snow covered forest floor.

“ The ship is mine.” he corrected. I eyed him with a brow raised.

“Whatever you say. Either way, arguing semantics with you is not getting either of us to my cabin.”

The searing pain that shot through my palm as I rubbed it against my jeans had me grimacing, but I tried to ignore it. He stared me down, head tilted slightly.

“Alright. I’m going now.” I turned on my heels and I bolted up the hillside, hurrying so fast across the slippery pavement separating me from my cabin that I nearly slipped a time or two and I finally got to the shed that I’d parked the ATV under after riding it along the creekbank earlier to look for fallen trees I could use as firewood.

The keys were still in the ignition. I jumped on and fired it up, biting back a pained whimper as I curled my hand around the handlebar and that only put more pressure on the wound that I didn’t even realize I’d gotten trying to help the man out.

I shoved out the pain and focused on getting back across the road as quickly as possible. And in the back of my mind, yes.. I did find it more than a little odd that nobody had come down. The neighbors a mile away from me have to have heard… Then I remembered that Herb and Isla were out of town, in Kentucky with their oldest daughter and her family for the holidays.

,, c’mon lady luck, don’t fail me now.” the thought came and went and I took a shortcut through the treeline that I knew would put me straight in front of the crash site. Now I just had to hope to God that the guy was okay and he hadn’t left the scene.

Right as the crashed ship came into view, I spotted him trying yet again to use the wreckage to pull himself to his feet and I rushed over.

“You’re a stubborn one.”

“Trying to..” he took a few heavy breaths and grumbled before continuing, “Get back home.”

“And you can do that.. The second you’re at least partially healed, sir. I’m gonna…” I trailed off, awkwardly positioning myself against his side so that he could use me as a crutch and lean on me to get to the ATV so I could take him back to my place, “Lean on me.”

But the guy was an actual fucking giant.

And normally, in a non life or death situation, I’d have been absolutely mesmerized by… Pretty much everything about him. But tonight, I was too focused. Too intent on getting both of us to safety.

,, daddy always told me curiosity killed the cat. Now look what I’m smack in the middle of.” I thought to myself, grunting a little as he leaned into me heavily, my arm around his lower back and his arm around my shoulders as he clumsily tried to make his way to the ATV.

Once I got on and he managed to get himself on behind me, I took off. “Might wanna cover your face.”

And a minute or so later, as I parked the ATV right at my porch steps to make it a little easier to get him inside, he eyed me warily again, this time questioning, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know who I was?”

“What do you mean was?” I asked the question, all the worst possible scenarios flashing through my mind. And that adrenaline surge from earlier that I had yet to come down from? A little more panicked.

He muttered something and shrugged, putting a shoulder around me again as he grunted and managed to get himself standing.

The light overhead on my porch caught on his bloodied pants leg and I grimaced. “Well, pretty sure that’s a broken leg.”

I kicked open the front door with my foot and helped him into my living room, letting him sink down onto the couch. After I got him all settled in, I rushed around my pantry gathering up my medical supplies that I kept on hand.

And I wandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the handmade heavy wooden coffee table in front of my old plaid couch. “You’re gonna have to… Take off the shirt..”

He eyed me, this curious gleam in his eyes that quickly vanished when I firmly repeated myself.

His eyes caught on my palm and he eyed my own smaller wound, then fixed his eyes on me. “You’re dripping blood on the floor.”

“And I’ll worry about that as soon as I’m totally certain that aside from a possibly broken leg and a few cuts and bruises, you’re fine.” I insisted, a firm tone of my own as I started to tug the ripped fabric up and over his body. I grimaced at the older scars and bit my lip as I surveyed the bruises already starting to form against pale skin. “Are you in any pain at all when you breathe?”

Bear in mind here. I am still only just an intern. So I haven’t actually had to deal with a whole lot in the way of injuries. The most I’m currently allowed to do is make rounds and do consults, checking in on patients to let their actual physician know what they might need or how they might be feeling on that particular day.

So this was all trial by fire for me.

One glance at his well muscled body had me definitely continuing to think that he was one of the guys from the military base and I made a mental note to maybe NOT turn down Carrie if she offered to set me up with one of the guys her fiance knew in the future as I had been doing.

He cleared his throat.

“A little.”

“Most likely dealing with a bruised rib or two. I’ll wrap those for now.. I’ll call in a favor with Dr.Albertson in the morning...I don’t think he’ll tell anybody.”

The man nodded, agreeing.

I went back to cleaning and patching the wounds I could patch and then I turned my attention to his leg.

“I’m going to have to cut your pants leg…”

“Or I could take off my pants.” 

I eyed him as soon as he said it because truth be told, not only did he have me flustered in saying it, but also, I couldn’t entirely tell if he were being helpful at last, or if he were being a flirt.

As if to prove he was serious, he rose up slightly, unfastening the black pants he wore, working them down his hips and I have literally NEVER… ever.. Turned away and tried to still catch a peek as I did in that moment.

“Christ. You could’ve given me a second to turn.”

“Why?” he tapped my shoulder as he asked the question and I turned around.

 My breath caught in my throat and I quickly had to refocus myself. Because if I thought taking his shirt off was a bit of a distraction… Then him sitting there pantsless was.. A bit more.

I bit my lip and my eyes settled on the lower portion of his leg. The swelling was bad. The leg was definitely broken. I sighed and clucked my tongue, shaking my head. 

“I’m gonna have to call in that favor with the old man now. Because this can’t wait to be looked at. And I need to be sure you’ve got no internal injuries.” I stood abruptly, nearly doing so fast enough that I almost landed on top of the guy.

He eyed me and I pulled back and away from him, raising to a full stand. Walking quickly into my kitchen and sliding the pocket door closed behind me.

“Hey, doc? I know it’s late, but if you get this, can you please swing by my grandma’s cabin on your way home tonight? I need your help. And I need someone who can be trusted to stay quiet on what you’re gonna see.”

I’d just walked back into the living room when my cell phone rang in my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather explain when you get here, doc.”

“I’m on my way now. Just grabbing my equipment.”

“Thank you, doc.”

“I always told you and I promised your grandma when you were knee high to a grasshopper. If you ever need me, kid, I’ll be there.”

I hung up and sank back down onto the coffee table, letting a deep breath escape my mouth. The adrenaline was starting to wear off finally and all I could do now was… Process everything. Try to figure out just how far up the proverbial creek I might’ve gotten myself.

The man shattered the silence in the room by clearing his throat and reaching out. I eyed him, a brow raised.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to do something about your hand, I’m going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s a little scrape.”

“There’s blood caked on it.”

Something in the look he gave me had me extending my hand. It almost felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself, though I didn’t realize this until much later…

His larger hand gripped mine carefully, holding it on bare legs.

“You still haven’t put any pants on, what the hell..”

“If you called that person and they’re going to come and examine me, doesn’t make sense to.” he didn’t look up as he answered, instead, focusing on swiping the cloth that I’d gotten as a spare in case I needed a clean one for his wounds. When the light overhead caused something in the wound to glisten, I tried to yank my hand free in a hurry, but that sensation was back in my mind and his grip on my wrist tightened to a point where I couldn’t move.

“Be still.”

That firm tone again, honestly, fuck him for it.

“Fine. But I feel like I should remind you, I am a medical professional. I could get this looked at when Doc arrives.”

“Well, I’m doing it now.” he stated calmly, as if I had no say in the matter. And when I opened my mouth to argue, to insist I could just wait the ten minutes it would take Doc to get to my cabin, nothing came out.

He gave me this smug look as he took my tweezers and worked them into the cut, making me bite my lip and take a few deep breaths.

When he finally got the shard free, I pulled my hand back, cradling it against me.

He eyed me, amused it seemed.

“I’ll clean it out and wrap it now, thanks.” I mumbled in a softer tone, giving him a small smile and thanking him.

Now, we just had to wait on Doc to arrive...

[coffeebeannate]

Taken from @werebearbearbar

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in  2020. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

I started writing fic years and years ago. And have done so in other fandoms before taking a long hiatus from the writing world in general. I stuck with written roleplay only. For  what I assume to be around four or five years, I did not write a single fic. (I also wrote short stories in childhood, teen years and young adult years)

(I want to point out though that this absolutely does not negate roleplay writing, and that writing with another person, or in a group is a lesser form) My break from fanfic came with one of the worst periods of my mental and physical health, and everything I had written was purged from my Ao3 account in a single night.

I started writing for The Old Guard in August, and below, are the things I like a lot that I’ve written for it. To do this, I decided to use the criteria of ‘fics I like the most’ instead of what seems to be the most popular to read. For me, if I really love a piece of work, I recall the creative process fondly, and have lines and bits of dialogue I truly adore within it.

1. Precision Mission Fic. Gala. Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, NIcky)

Rated  M (Mature) 4846 words

My second fic for the fandom that I published, but the first I actually conceptualized. This one is just..so special to me. I have phone notes typed at five am. I can recall the excitement as I was so eager to share this story and get it off the ground. I wanted to see this complete so bad. I loved nearly every second of writing it, and it’s always going to hold a special place in my heart as a result. There’s so much overdone clothing talk and I can only think of it with fondness. 

Excerpt:

None of them are comfortable. Except Joe, it seems.

Joe makes it look easy. Simplistic, even, judging by the way he effortlessly glides and charms his way through the expansive ball/congregating/entertaining room. Something that never failed to fascinate Nicky was the way Joe could integrate himself almost seamlessly into any scenario, situation, or environment. Neither Andy nor himself had that ability. Not when it came to cavorting, anyway. Nicky more quietly reserved, Andy lacking in the ability to care enough to fake it.

Nile seemed to be more in the middle. She did not appear overly comfortable with the mingling, but she had enough personal grace and adaptability to make it seem somewhat effortless to have a decent time.

All their eyes remained sharp on the surrounding area, awaiting the arrival of their target. And for all his schmoozing, Nicky knew Joe’s surveillance was tack-sharp, multitasking to a degree no one he was currently conversing with could have possibly noticed.

“You going to move at some point, or have you taken up permanent resident status here?” Nile asks, appearing at his side where Nicky has spent the last half-hour molded to the furthest left corner of the solid black bar. “I know you have an excellent view, but.”

Nicky snorted, though only Nile could actually tell, “Why waste a good opportunity?”, momentarily ceasing his Joe watching to stare back into the depths of his glass, which currently contained some horrifically shocking pink abomination, Nicky’s second drink, since he was letting the bar tender dictate them, too utterly distracted to care what was touching his lips, and curious with the way the bar tender had delighted in being given free reign to make whatever he desired.

To be fair, it didn’t taste that bad-something frighteningly sugary and weirdly noxious smelling, but it’s not exactly ‘crime against humanity’ levels of alcoholic nightmares.

--

2. Old

Post-movie. Current Group. (Andy, Nile, Joe, Nicky) Mortal Andy. Character study.

Rated T (Teen and Up Audiences), 2903 words.

My first attempt at Andy-centric writing. Andy is a character I consider a challenge to write, and that makes me want to write her more. This fic centers mostly around her and the others trying to come to terms with how much has happened, within day to day life and taking the comfort that they can in one another.

I really like this fic. A lot. Sure it’s short. Sure maybe not much happens, but Andy’s character fascinates me, as does her relationship with her family.

Excerpt:

Old.

Old

Old

So motherfucking old.

Someone is calling out to her, her hearing and senses long fine-tuned to knowing. It’s Nicky- she can easily pretend she can’t hear him, he knows when she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, after all.

She’s being petty, and she knows it’s unfair. That the nearly untouched plate and nights spent not sleeping gives them reason to be at her. But facing them with that fact feels about as ideal as jumping into a flaming volcano right about now. They’re just worried. It makes her stomach turn, sour and vicious. Venom in the gut, acid in the heart.

Said volcano would be kinder.

--

3. Spice it Up (Or Not)

Joe and Nicky. Pre-Movie. Fluffy Lovings

Rated: E (Explicit) 3030 words

This one was just fun. I am such a sucker for banting, and the most established of established relationships that Nicky and Joe have going on. This one is indeed not safe for work, and honestly, the opening paragraphs are what came first, and I actually had to build the story around it.

Something that I think makes this fic fun to me as well is that, just because something that sounded like a good idea fails, it doesn’t make it an ending. Healthy communication, knowing each other..it’s so blissful to think about.

Things aren’t always perfect, but that’s okay. And it’s not always a threat. Oh and because this is me, what was supposed to be fairly light hearted gets all sappy and reflective mid-way.

Excerpt:

He knows Nicky in every way. He knows his scent from battle, from sex, from showers and from sleep. He knows his eyes in darkness, in light, in dread, excitement and worry. He knows his grief, his love, his sadness, and adoration. Excitement, passion, fear, and pain.

He could count each tear that Nicky has shed, could recall each tone of his voice in every language they know. From the first he heard to the current. The sweet harmony of song and the rough gasp of drunk intoxication. He’s heard him yell, heard him scream. Heard his shouts and his cries.

He knows how Nicky tends to favour his left shoulder even though there’s no reason beyond psychological to do so. A spot Joe stabbed so long ago. So far back in another life. He knows how he likes to pause and do surveillance before they enter any new location. Knows he likes vehicles that move fast and has a fondness for roller coasters.

He’s seen those hands, so large and skilled break bone, wield a sword and cut vegetables and fruit. Seen them card through his hair, felt them map out each knot and ridge in his spine and ribs, felt them so deep inside himself he can taste it. Rolling into it. Demanding, needing.

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s not calling him back, Nicky’s just as far gone. So often they seem to share thoughts.

Nicky knows Joe in all ways and more. Knows that Joe still sometimes seems to speak ancient by-gone languages in his sleep. Knows that he tends to carry the strongest personal scent in the dead of night. That no shower, no soap, no life experience or battle has truly ever masked the delightful musk he has to himself. There could be a cologne out there that would modify it, and Nicky would bite and lick it away. Demanding and asking, why take this from me? How dare you try to alter what I know and love so furiously?

--

4. Touch Before Heart

Historical Kaysanova. Early Years. Pre-Movie. Getting to Know Eachother.

Rated E (Explicit) 5030 words

As is pretty obvious by now, I write a LOT of early years Kaysanova. A lot. I am addicted to it.

This one..I love it. This might be one of my favourite pieces of writing of all time. If I was doing these numbers strictly in order preference, then I’d put it as number one I bet.

I think the summary I made for it sums up well just how much I love it. And maybe why.

The first moment they’re able to have a bath, they resolutely do not look at each other. Picking opposite ends of the small stream bed, backs turned to one another. A strange show of both trust and distrust; their backs were exposed, but it was up to their tentative mutual agreement to not partake in the opportunity to stab each other for it.

The..idea that they had so much to learn, so much to understand. So much confusion, anger mistrust..I just really really adore this fic and I think I did a good  job with it.

Excerpt:

He curses in unison with Nicolò, both holding fast and steady as the thing finally rights itself, Nicolò letting out a slow, shaken breath of relief.

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asks, both to break the silence and mend the irritating gap they’ve created for themselves.

“Better. Thank you.”

Yusuf wants to scream.

He wants to grab Nicolò, shake him until he can do nothing but give him answers.

Why do you drive me to the brink of madness?

Why do I know your touch, but not your heart?

Why do you tempt me, consume me?

What does it mean?

Why are we here?

Why!?

It is an unfair desire; he’s hardly given the man any more clarity.

--

5. Curated

Post-Movie. Current Group (Nile, Andy, Joe, Nicky)

Rated G (General Audiences) 1807 words

Alright, I admit it, I had trouble picking number five. I picked Curated because it’s just..so fluffy. But it’s so sweet I always feel so sugary when I think of it. The softness that I tried to convey, and I think I succeeded.

Nile is another character that fascinates me, that  I just do not explore enough, and this is all the comforting goodness I could ever hope to create.

Excerpt: 

She’s grown used to the easy intimacy they all share, but the sight before her, Nicky’s eyes half-lidded, face a perfect serenity she rarely see’s on it, Joe lost, far-away in reciting but still wholly present, creates an odd, near-throbbing ache in her chest. Something powerful and raw. It’s hard to imagine that people who have been alive this long can be this content.

Everything they’ve seen, experienced and done. All the stories they’ve regaled her with. All the prep, the anxieties, the concerns, and curiosities. None of it seems to exist in these moments. Joe speaking in a language the world might think dead, the true master of softness within the room.

--

And there we have it! I have so much more I want to write, I have so much more I want to explore, and I thank you all for sharing in these journey’s with me. May there be more writing in our future!