#don't be afraid to ask me anything about this Au!

[itstheghostofmypast]

Boiling Point

College AU Choi Jongho x (F)Reader

Summary: Crawling back to you, ever thought of calling when you've had a few? Cause he always did- enough for him to fall sick.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Word Count: 1.8K

Est. Read Time: 9 min

Warnings: Language

Rating: PG-13

Type: One-shot

Networks: @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Song Rec: Do I Wanna Know- Artic Monkeys

A/N: I can not explain how much I hate this man for battling with the other Choi I'm obsessed with- my laptop isn't even working and I typed this like a raccoon since morning till noon. Yes, I prefer the original song more.

“He's sick.”

Mentally, yes, Choi Jongho was sick, at least according to you. Though to your knowledge, his current physical well-being was not at its finest. The golden boy who was never sick, never later and never wrong - though he did prove to be an idiot. Those two words were all it took for you to pull your hand out of your ‘date's’, looking up at him as he smiled at you with a knowing look, nodding at the direction of your object of infatuation and frustration.

You rang the doorbell, before looking into the paper bag, you had brought various things; ibuprofen, cough syrup, tissues, chocooates- honestly you didn't know what kind of bug he had but you knew why he was sick. You were about to ring the doorbell again, but the door opened, catching you off guard, a cuter version of Rudolf in front of you, sniffling as he looked away, mumbling, “What do you want?”

“My god, you are sick,” you sighed, moving in without his invitation, squeezing past him and the door, giving him a small smile, trying to ignore his bloodshot eyes and quivering lip.

With a heavy groan he slammed the door shut, not in the mood to deal with you right now, yet here he was walking into the open kitchen as he slouched against the counter, the creak of his barstool catching your attention as you dumped the contents of the premade soup in the water only for him to sigh, “You need to let it reach its boiling point first.”

“Sometimes it's better to handle things without reaching a definite reaction point.” You mumbled, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon, watching the contents slowly dissolve, too afraid to look at him. Honestly, you thought he had moved on. Why else would he have not reacted when you told him about your date. He had always been very expressive and vocal about things he didn't like, never bottling up his feelings of disapproval. Initially, you had found him very rude, even complaining to Hongjoong about how his ‘friend’, was actually a rude a-hole who'd take advantage of the group because he was the youngest. A bit far-fetched for sure, but who could blame you? Nobody likes overhearing someone complain about them.

“I'm telling you, hyung, she's only friends with you because she wants a good grade.”

“Jongho, we've been friends since school, trust me, if anything, I became friends with her to pass 4th grade math.”

Unknown to either of them, you had walked into the room when they were having this conversation. Mind you, the library is no place for gossip. What Choi Jongho did not expect, but Kim Hongjoong did expect, was for you to confront them.

“If you don't like me, just say it. I won't waste my efforts trying to befriend you.”

Jongho had been too stunned to speak. Confrontation was not his strong suit, especially when it involved someone he wasn't particularly close to, and yes, once you had stormed out, he had felt horrible. He had asked Hongjoong for advice who had told him to let you be, “It'll pass. She'll cool down eventually.”

Only you didn't. Instead, you had decided to ignore him, and for some reason, that bothered him tremendously. You had ignored him during a group presentation, only talking to him if no one was around to convey your message, only smiling at him during the presentation and once that was done you walked away like he didn't exist. You had turned down a few invites because of him, and if somehow Hongjoong had convinced you to come, you'd stick around someone other than him, particularly Yunho. It was weird actually, Yunho just always had something to say to you, and for some reason, you always ended up giggling or smiling at him, for more unforseen yet illogical reason, everytime his eyes would land on your smiling face he wished that it were him who you were laughing with.

So from that day onwards he had slowly started to warm up to you, starting off with approaching you after class, looking at you when you looked right through him, only to frown when he didn't move out of your way, instead he mumbled an apology, cringing when you scoffed, “What was that? I didn't hear you?” Oh, you had heard him alright, but you weren't going to let him off easy just because most of his friends babied him -

“I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed such things about you, especially when I didn't know you well enough.”

That's all it took, though. You were confrontational, but you were also an uncannily forgiving person. A decent apology and your brain would reboot, something Jongho had realised when you had brought cookies to a study session in the library, making sure to give him one with a smile- a smile that had him gulping down his heart that had been climbing up his throat to run to its new owner. He was glad you were like this, though. He'd cringe at the thought of what he had said about you every time he'd think about it and hear you were, pretending it had never happened. One thing was for sure now, Jongho didn't want to say anything to upset you because deep down, he had realised he was smitten.

“Didn't you have a date?” He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool counter top, everything hurt. His head, his joints, his back, his shoulders, his heart-

“Sit up straight, Choi Jongho.” You huffed, placing the bowl of warm soup in front of the crouching boy, “And it wasn't a date, can't a guy and girl just be friends?”

With a groan, he sat up, rubbing his neck like an old man, damn, that's what he gets for making fun of his hyung. He frowned and looked at her before glancing down at the soup, mumbling as usual, “Not if that guy is Yunho.”

You paid no mind to his grumbling. He was a bit under the weather. You knew that, and if your suspicions were right, you knew why he was sick. You weren't going to bring it up though, you were following Yunho’s advice, and at this point, you weren't sure if it had backfired or- you clicked your tongue at the mess in his room God, sometimes you wanted to best him up - he'd been spending too much time with Hongjoong.

You picked up the blanket and tossed it back on the bed before going to the window and opening it, letting fresh air into the room. A bit of cross ventilation didn't hurt anyone.

Jongho sniffled as he stared at his empty bowl, he could hear your muffled complaining, talking about how much of a mess he had made- it was ironic how she didn't realise the mess she has made of him, moping around, drowning in self pity at the thought of her slipping through his fingers. He heaved off the stool, trying to keep his balance as he dragged his feet to his bedroom, where he saw you fluffing the pillows. Could you fluff his heart like that, too?

You looked up at him and frowned, about to say something, he looked worse than before, “Jjong, how about we go to the doctor-YOU PSYCHO!”

Your shriek caused his head to ache, but it didn't matter. His heart was already in more pain. He was rolling on the bed, kicking the blanket to roll into it like a burrito before grabbing a pillow and grumbling, “I wanna sleep.”

Shaking your head in disbelief you slapped his shoulder, hard enough for him to glare up at you, pushing the blanket aside to say something only for you to cut him off, “Can you stop being so stubborn and say it already!?”

“Say what!?” He spat back only for his breath to hitch when he saw the way you deflated, your shoulders slumping as she sat on your knees on the mattress, twirling your thumbs before staring at the blanket between the two of you, “Nothing.”

You were about to leave when he gripped your wrist, causing you to turn and glance at him mumbling, “Jongho…you're burning up, let's-”

“Please don't go…” he mumbled before pulling you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, ignoring how you squeaked, though he noticed how you sighed against him, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his tuft of soft unruly hair.

“You wanna talk about it?” You sighed, closing your eyes when he pulled you closer, shaking his head.

“Why, Jjong?”

“Don't…wanna upset you.” He sighed, trying not to think of the image of you frowning of him, the thought of you avoiding him because of his selfishness.

“I won't be…Jongho…Nothing’s ever stopped you before from speaking your mind-”

“I don't wanna be selfish, okay? I'd…rather we be friends than nothing at all.” You ducked down to look at him, only for him to avert his gaze, moving so he was closer to you, snuggled in your embrace.

“I don’t think I'd let just a friend press himself against me like that, you dumbo.”

Your words caused his grip to tighten, a day chuckle leaving his body, when he felt you move a bit, enough for your head to lay on the pillow, staring at the wall, gently scratching his scalp, as he whispered against your skin, “I kinda want to be more…”

“Me too, Jjong…”

You got to no reaction from him, smiling when you noticed how he had dozed off, his body relaxing against yours, completely vulnerable to your touch- oh Choi Jongho, what an idiot, a man who was actually sick because of love- he was love sick. Maybe, if he hadn't let it simmer for so long, it wouldn't have boiled out. Who knew he was afraid of Yunho wooing you, when clearly, he had been trying to convince you that Jongho was a great guy, who actually liked you- he was only unable to “comprehend” how much he had liked you.

You smiled to yourself before kissing the top of his head, mumbling a, “Get well soon, you silly goose.” Before drifting off to a comfortable sleep.

Though that didn't last long, because you were rudely shook out of your blissful sleep, cracking open and eye to glare at the pink faced man with a his hair pointing at every direction, as if it were electrocuted by your love-

“You were serious, right?”

You scoffed at his question before turning to your side, pulling the blanket closer, ignoring the moron who was hovering over you, only for him to peck your cheek and jump off the bed, leaving you stunned as you whipped around like a mad woman- the balls this man had-

“Welp, guess I feel better already, tell you what, I'm gonna go shower and change and then we can go out and eat something.”

You raised your brows at the man in front of you, his hands on hips as he smirked at you, causing you to sigh and close your eyes, “Thought you were sick.”

“Turns out all I needed was a nice warm hug!” He yelled, walking out of the room, adding something that had her sit up all embarrassed and flushed, “AND THOSE SOFT PILLOWS REALLY GAVE ME AN ENERGY BOOST!”

God, he was an idiot…but…he was her idiot.

[archiewantsheetmetal]

First Official Hello From Archie!

HELLO Layton Nation! Welcome to my Layton blog. My name is Archie, and I go by he/him. I am a minor!

DNI if you:

- Are a pedophile

- Ship any minors with any adult characters. This is also pedophilia

- Are a zoophile

- Are a strictly 18+ blog

- Are homophobic, transphobic, racist, or xenophobic I just post Layton stuff here and interact with the fandom. This is my only Tumblr blog. I really like Professor Layton. I don't tag triggers or spoilers unless it's something major, like if it's very mild blood or if it regards a Layton reveal, but if anyone has an issue, they can come to me through dms or asks! I am not a scary person. Like at all. I love interacting with the Layton fandom and to be honest I am probably just as scared of you as you are of me. So don't be afraid to be friends! I love getting questions and requests! I just won't respond to anything NSFW. I do not reblog NSFW content. On Archive of Our Own, my username is Archierot! You can find any fics I may post there. Currently, there are only three published works on my page, but there will be more to come. My askbox is almost always open! I just may be a little slower to get to some of them, or if you say something very nice or funny, I might just keep it in there so I can look at it when I need to.

Taglist and friends below!

LIST OF MY FRIENDS!! MY LOVELY FRIENDS THAT I LOVE FOREVER!!

@casualfr1days!! My best friend DREWWW!!!!! ! ! ! ! ^^ AMAZING person all around and very very pretty art. THEY ARE THE REASON. I am in the Professor Layton fandom. drew it is ALL your fault. Wonderful to be around and I feel like I can talk to you about my bugs forever.

@justkillingthyme MY LOVELY BEST FRIEND THYME!! ^^ FRIENDLY KIND FOREVER!! I love their art and their writing!! It's very distinct and has inspired several of my own creations. I'm very lucky to be friends with them. Very funny person and joy to be around.

@jesterday00 MY BEST FRIEND SKEETER!! HI SKEETER ^^ I LOVE this person, their art, and their writing. Very very kind and very funny. I'm glad to have met you! Gives you a BIG fist bump.

@hotsaucewmilk BEST FRIEND HOTSAUCE!! !HLELO ^^ FUNNY GUY ALERT!!! GREAT ARTIST ALERT!! And he's also british so maybe he knows layton. idk. were investigating the matter

@toonypow BEST FRIEND BEE!!! HI BEE HI BEE ^^ GREAT writer. Has made me cry on Bsky. Wonderful art that I've seen.

@mysterysnail APPEL. OLIVE. YOU. ^^ shares a similar sense of humor to me. thank you. SSHAKES your hand. VERY FUNNY PERSON AND I'VE SEEN SOME OF THEIR ART!! VERY GOOD!!

@speedygoreman speedy... ^^ I AM still scared of you KIND OF. a little bit. BUT I THINK YOU'RE COOL. AND I LOVE READING THE STUFF YOU POST. KLG. UGH. UURGH. @huevobuevo you/. i remember you. ^^ you're realy fuckin funny man. best first impression. i miss you heuevo............. @constantpan1c ^^ hi!! friend!! yay!! funny kind nice. not part of the layton fandom but i listed them here too. giggle If I didn't include you on here, I'm probably scared of you and I'm not sure if you consider us friends !!

TAGS!

#archiereblogs - what it sounds like !! these are just reblogged posts. #important - probably important ! #archiesfavs - MY MOST FAAAVORITE POSTS!! HIGHEST HONOR I CAN BESTOW!! They go here so i can look at them later. #phantom railway au - the 1930s-esque depression au i created for professor layton! #askarchie - just stuff from my askbox #archiesart - all of my art!! I'm trying to do more of it. #inbox thyme - all of or most of thyme's asks. because theyre in there a lot! #archiestupid - shitposts. this might be considered art too but if its too stupid it goes in there. #archierants - me talking. probably includes all analyses ive ever done. #pl creature au - my mythical creature/monster au i created for professor layton! #archierot - ALL of my fics and fic related content! #archiedoodles - doodle request answers! #pl/professor layton - professor laytong stuff! THAT'S ALL I CAN FIND!! Some tags may not have any posts in them! That's because, moving forward, I want to keep my account organized. That's what the empty tags are there for! So I can use them from now on. I'll try to edit existing posts to include these tags if I see them. I'll tag the taglist so you can use it to like. find stuff. if you need to.

I hope you guys like my stuff! -Archie!

[lukas-lamby]

A little history about my Laydad Au (with sketches, yippee!)

Spoilers for The Lost Future and other games in the series

The story doesn't change much from the canon, but it does change several details.

It all starts with the disappearance of Clark and Brenda (without knowing if they are alive or dead), an almost one year Luke is left in the care of Claire and Layton, both without much knowledge of how to care for or handle a baby but they do their best for the son of their best friends.

But this is where the angst comes in (yes, this au was made mostly to be angst/comfort between Layton and Luke).

2 years pass, the time machine explodes and Claire dies in it, Layton is left completely in charge of taking care of Luke, but the pain of losing Claire blinded him too much from that duty, leaving it almost in the background of importance.

Then, the attack against Layton when investigating Claire's accident happens, and when he wakes up from his coma, he finds a very worried Luke, since he not only lost his mother figure but he almost lost his father figure and that's when Hershel realizes that although he sees Luke as his friend's son, Luke sees him as his lifelong father. Changing his way of thinking and finally accepting that he is now Luke's legal and only father.

And still afraid that they might attack him and harm him, not only him but also Luke, he makes a decision, he teaches Luke that for everyone and the outside they are apprentice and teacher, Luke Triton and Professor Hershel Layton, but in their home and close loved ones they are Hershel and Luke Layton, father and son.

And the rest remains the same! more or less.

The characters remain almost the same, only a few things change, Hershel is a little more expressive in this AU thanks to having to live with a child, when they go out he is like the canon Layton, stoic, only from time to time his more paternal and active side comes out. (For example in Monte D'or, he most likely punched the masked gentleman for hanging his son from the top floor of the tallest building in the city...) His phrase for doing those things: I may be a gentleman, but I'm also a father.

For Luke, he is still the same happy and kind boy, only now he is more careful of people because of what happened with his parents.

And Flora is in this Au! She becomes Luke's sister and they really are a nice family together :)

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily. 

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks. 

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses. 

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence. 

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous. 

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking. 

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving. 

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 43 ⋆.

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

☆ jungkook x y/n ☆ contains smut, fluff and angst ☆ chapter forty three ; wc | 5.4k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook is quiet, hasn't said a word, not even a hum, and it's seriously bothering you. He is seated right next to you in the lounge, the silence is unsettling and worrying. This isn't like him, and it frightens you. Turning to him, you ask for what feels like the hundredth time, 

"Hey, please tell me what's wrong." he gives you the same answer, "I'm fine y/n, it's nothing." His sudden behavior change is worrying. He was so happy and excited when you two were about to leave for the airport, but something must've happened to make him leave the house with such a gloomy look like something was bothering him. 

In Jungkook's mind, there's a storm of thoughts eating away at him. Why would your mom say something like that to him? And even if she did, why did it have to be so hateful? He just can't wrap his head around why she pretended to care about him while feeling so low about him all along. he keeps thinking about what she said and he can't help but feel afraid of everything now. he's hurt, hurt that he thought he could find a mother figure in his life and she ended up pretending? 

Jungkook keeps thinking about it over and over again and it only makes him furious. You've explained everything to your parents, what your relationship status is too and even though your mother is aware of all the ups and downs and how you both are starting slow, she spoke to him so rudely? His frown gets even deeper, and it makes you so uneasy you can't even figure out why he might be upset. You don't want to bother him with a bunch of questions, so you just stay quiet and wait for him to talk when he's ready. 

When you both board the flight and take your seats, Jungkook helps you adjust your seatbelt without saying a word. Then, he puts out his hand for you to hold as the plane takes off. That small gesture is a relief—it's obvious he's not mad at you, at least. Now and then, you peek over to look at him, only to find him asleep. A few times, he caught you staring and asked if you needed anything or had to rush to the bathroom again, 

but you just shook your head to reassure him. when you think about it, the reason he must be upset could be that his birthday is coming soon, in just 3 days. after all, he's told you the whole tale of his life and what a nightmare it had been with his ex-girlfriend, on the day of his birthday. You're uncertain, but even the small chance of it being the reason makes your heart. You have already been planning something special for his birthday and now, 

you want to make it the best day of this year. this brings you some hope and a smile on your face when you think about all the little surprises you've made, you can't wait to get back home and prepare for it. secretly. the flight was long and Jungkook peeped many times to look over at you, to check if you were doing okay, feeling cold or hungry but you didn't care to ask the air hostess for food. you'll notice him looking so you would remove one side of the headphones and raise your eyebrows to which he shakes his head. 

"you okay?" you ask, he nods at you and passes the chocolate he received from the staff to you. he doesn't eat sweets so whatever they offer him, he gives it to you so you can enjoy doubling the treats. "hey..." you murmur when he tries to rest back. "yeah?" he'll come forward. "you want mo-" "i', fine..." you interrupt him from questioning about food again. "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything." you whisper to which he deeply exhales. Jungkook doesn't know how to put this into words. 

He doesn't want you to agree with your mother, but he also doesn't want you to resent her. After all, she's not entirely wrong. As a mother—and the mother of her only daughter—she has every right to worry about your future, especially given your traditional background. Her concerns aren't unfounded, no matter how much they might sting. 

he gives you a tight smile and puts his hand over so you can hold it. and when you do, he leans in and kisses the back of your palm, leaving butterflies inside your stomach. The baby has been unusually active the past few days, and it fills you with a kind of warmth you can't describe. Every kick, every flutter—

it's like a secret language shared just between the two of you. You want Jungkook to feel it too, not just with his hand on your bump, but with every fiber of his being. You want him to truly connect, to let it sink into his heart and soul, the way it does for you. You know he'll agree when you ask, without hesitation, and his touch will be gentle, reverent even.

But you hope that after his birthday surprises, when he sees all the love and effort you've poured into making him feel special, he'll fully embrace this new chapter. You're certain that in those moments, he'll step into the role of the loving father he's always dreamed of being—the one he's never let himself believe he could be.

;

The ride back home was at 4;30 am and was heavy with silence, the kind that settled deep into your chest. But no matter how much you tried to hold it in, you couldn't resist the sudden urge to stay close to him or to at least feel his warmth so you placed your head on his shoulder. Jungkook flinched slightly but immediately relaxed, he caressed your hair and that made you smile. 

You can't wait to be back home and to cuddle the man as you both share the same bed. "Bammie" you call out for the dog as soon as the doors open, you've missed the boy so much, even though it had been just a weekend getaway. Bam comes running to you both, jumping to greet you. "oh my god, he's getting the zoomies!!" 

you exclaim and bend slightly to hold his paws. "oh my Bammie, come to mama!!" you walk to the couch so you can pet him because you can't bend down as you did before. His tail wags and his whines get loud as you walk beside him, Jungkook looks at the two of you and chuckles. He can't stay mad when you both look so cute, he wants to frame this moment so bad. 

"my bam-bam, come here." he jumps on the couch and begins to lick you, making you a giggling mess. Jungkook places the luggage inside removes his coat and throws it away. He interrupts you two and straight walks into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and juice for you. "Bammie, Bammie, Bammie!!" you murmur his name a couple of times, placing kisses all around his body like Jungkook does. 

"you're the sweetest boy ever, aren't you? You're the cutest, right? Of course, you are!!" Jungkook didn't realize how much you missed bam and even though his mood was completely off, he still smiled at the sight of you two. "go to appa!" you push him to go to Jungkook while you remove your coats. the dog rushes to his owner and jumps near him, so Jungkook grabs his paws and kneels. "bam-ah" 

he mutters and giggles at the ticklish licks the dog gives him. "go back to y/n." he gets on his feet and walks towards you. "y/n have this juice." he hands you a bottle of fresh strawberry juice. "thanks.." You glance at him and can't help but notice how exhausted he looks. You're tired too, but Jungkook's tension seems to weigh heavier, making the dark circles under his eyes far more prominent. You want to ease his burden somehow, 

but you have no idea what's troubling him, and asking isn't an option since he doesn't respond. The two of you head upstairs to his room—or rather, the room you now share. You feel the need for a warm shower, imagining how much better it would make you feel. But then you see Jungkook pulling a suit from his closet, and that's when you're completely at a loss. 

"hey? Where are you going?" you ask him in confusion, he glances over his shoulder and huffs. "work y/n. It's a Monday.." 'yeah of course you know it's a fucking Monday!!' "but you need some rest, you- you can go back to work freshly tomorrow." you tell him, you hear him exhale as he pauses his selection of tie for a minute before resuming. "I don't need rest, I'm fine." 

his response says everything, he isn't speaking gently, he isn't looking at you, he isn't touching you and fuck, he doesn't call you by nicknames! "please take some rest, it was a long flight. You're not gonna be well." you murmur out of concern, you don't want him to overwork and he needs sleep, he barely closed his eyes the entire flight, you know he didn't sleep. 

"I'm fine y/n! I am." this time his words were slightly louder than he usually is and you know, he's got some issue so you don't say anything anymore. If he is stubborn, then be it. "fine." you leave his room and lock yourself in the shower of your previous washroom. You're kinda frustrated and the way he responds isn't making things better. 

You care for him but if he doesn't care for himself then it's not something you can help. You focus on pampering yourself so you walk into the shower and set a nice bubble bath. Until then you look for cake designs so you can plan something special for his birthday. You also have another surprise in mind that you can't do by yourself, so you text Hobi for some help.

y/n; Hey Hoba, how's everything? All well?

You strip your clothes and get comfortable inside the bathtub. Moans leave your lips at how perfectly warm the water is. It's exactly what you need after a 13-hour long flight. "Baby, you need to stop kicking me now. Let Mama relax," you mumble and giggle at the sight of the movement you can see, with your belly popping out of the bubbles.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is utterly frustrated with himself for speaking to you that way. It wasn't your fault for being worried about him. He can't stop replaying everything your mother said in his mind. The rude tone of her words no longer stings—it's what they imply that troubles him now. Does marriage even cross your mind? 

He realizes there are still parts of you he doesn't fully understand. He knows you well, but not completely. The two of you haven't discussed the nature of your relationship yet, leaving him uncertain about where you stand. What gnaws at him most is the possibility that you might be feeling conflicted but choose not to tell him, all because he's intent on taking things slow. 

He doesn't want to upset you but he also can't change his mood and feelings so fast. It is almost 6;30 am after he showered and took some rest, he decided to go to work and check everything since he left his staff to handle everything while he was away, he plans to come home early and sort things out by then. Jungkook adjusts his tie and walks out of the room, he peeps into your room and sees you freshly dressed in a crop top. 

You are sleeping under the blanket and Bam sleeps beside you with his head on your neck. Jungkook knows that you're tired so he didn't want to disturb you, so he left for work after taking a long look at you and informed Maya to take care of you while he was away.

;

You woke up to the delicious smell of Korean food. It's about 1 pm, you had a good sleep since you were fucking tired. Your muscles feel so relaxed and the stretching was mm-hmm. you were about to step out of your room when you felt a striking pain in your back and feet. "fuck.." you slowly walked back inside the room and took a seat on the couch, applying some pressure to the areas that hurt. "dear..." 

Maya enters your room with a knock and soon places the food on the glass table. "are you fine?"  She asks, and you shake your head. "I'm fine—just some aches here and there." She nods in understanding, lifting your foot onto her lap and gently massaging it, bringing soothing relief to your cramps. "Here, have your lunch," 

she says, handing you a dish of bibimbap and kimchi, her smile warm and knowing. She's aware of how much you adore her cooking—it's always met with your praises. "Mmm, Maya... you're truly a gift from above!" you groan, your mouth full of rice and veggies, head falling back against the couch in bliss. It's not just the delicious food; the soft, comforting massage on your feet makes the moment pure perfection. 

The plate sits on your bump, truly useful now that it's all big and round, it can hold much stuff! "how was the trip, dear?" she questions curiously. "oh it was messy, to begin with, but Then it was lovely, my parents were accepting- though it took them some time.." you say, recalling how nervous you both were at the doorstep, just how crazy it was the whole day, you wouldn't ever want to experience that in your life ever again. 

it was horrific, way worse than the day you found out you were pregnant. It has to be the pressure and the worry of acceptance. Your parents are kind and open-minded, but also... are they that open-minded to accept your child for a mistake? That was the haunting question but anyway, it all ended pretty well so you're glad that it was all a 2-day thing. 

Maya and you engage in a conversation about baby clothing and the other items that will be useful for the future, which you're supposed to shop for now. Your screen lights up with a response from Hobi.

Hoba;  hey y/n!!! I'm good.

How are you and the little one?

y/n; all good, the little one is being very naughty.

Anyway hoseok, I want your help...

Hoba; say right away

You needed his help to surprise Jungkook, only a trustworthy friend could help and of course, it was him. so you shared the plan with him by text and told him all the details that you had.

Hoba; omfg i'm so down!!!!Just wait for it cheesecake, I'm gonna make this plan 100 times better.

You giggle at his response, he's a sweetheart and you're so glad you found a true friend here in Seoul. You plan the rest of the stuff that's needed for Jungkook's birthday because it's just 2 days away and there's quite a bit to do. You also need the staff's help so you tell Maya about what needs to be done and without any doubt she was already getting the items according to your color and taste. You want to do this for him. 

Jungkook deserves so much, and if you can do something—just one little thing—that changes how he feels about birthdays, it'll be worth it. His hatred for them comes from so much pain, but love heals everything, right? 

And you're going to show him that love wins every time. You'll give him all the love, care, and support to turn this one day into the best one he's had all year. It's not just you in on this, either. It's the two of you now. Your little one is part of the plan, too. This baby is going to change his life, no question, and you'll make sure it's for the better. Together, you're going to make this day unforgettable.

;

You spent the day like usual—binging TV series and playing with Bam. But what surprised you was when the doorbell rang. Glancing down from upstairs, you saw the staff answering it, and soon after, a couple of workers entered the house. Confusion set in as they started decorating the room you were staying in and moving your belongings to another one. 

Maya caught your deepening frown and chuckled before explaining, "Sir wants to turn this room into a nursery! for the little one." That's when everything clicked. Of course, it made sense now. Your belongings were being moved to Jungkook's room, while the room you'd been staying in was being transformed into a nursery. 

After all, it's the closest room to his—and now, yours too. You could not hold back the large smile that grew on your face. There's no way Jungkook was doing this. A nursery?!! So what- is everything set? Are you gonna be living with him? The baby too? You could not contain the happiness you felt, you could vomit sparkles, sprinkles and glitter. "Ma'am, we were told to ask your preferences for the decoration—the colors you'd like." 

You didn't even think about it at first, your brain kind of lagging for a second. "Uh..." You're not the type to stick to the typical pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys thing. It doesn't make sense to you. You want your kid to love any color they want, no matter what. "Purple would be nice... I like purple." the workers had come to clear the area up so you can decide on which items go where and do the painting according to the colors you want. 

Your stuff was arranged in the closet. It had been divided between Jungkook and you and honestly, that makes your stomach clench at how crazy that is. You're now sharing a room with him, entirely. Not just the bed but his closet and everything else. 

It's becoming your room as much as it is his. Your plushies sleep on the bed because you didn't want them to be seated on the frame, plushies are meant to sleep with you and you can't sleep without your avocado. You wanted to be helpful too but Maya wouldn't allow you to take a step so you had to watch her arrange them with the other maids. 

The closet seems full now and it's so lovely to see it becoming yours. Even though Jungkook had unknowingly brightened your day, a lingering worry still gnawed at you. He hadn't texted you all day, and that's just so not like him. You can't help but feel uneasy, but you try to push those thoughts aside. Instead, you focus on the nursery. 

You're determined to make it lively, full of energy, and as colorful as possible. You start brainstorming, imagining bright shades of every color filling the space. But at the heart of it all, purple will take the lead. It's your favorite color, and it's soothing and comforting—something about it just calms you. 

You picture soft purple walls and Jungkook and you stand beside the cot, cradling the little one to sleep while you two watch your newborn. It sounds like a dream, like a movie's ending and you can't wait for that day to come. Your hands caress your bump as you imagine lovely beginnings.

;

The night comes by and Jungkook returns home in exhaustion. He's drained out mentally and physically. he wants to talk to you about what your mother said to him but when he sees you walking fast towards him with utmost difficulty with that big bump of yours, he can't help but smile at that sight. "Jungkook!!! oh my god."

you hug his waist while he is removing his coat, and he giggles at your excitement, he knows exactly why you are all giddy and excited. "calm down, calm down there." "How can I?!! I forgot about a nursery until they knocked on the door. I- am so excited. so I think we; 're gonna do this with purple but I'll also like a splash of the other colors but- we make it pastel and-" 

You keep on and on and Jungkook can't help but raise his eyebrows at the speed you talking. You're so excited, he sees it all over your face, your glowing and beaming and he loves this so much, he loves the look of happiness and excitement in you. it's crazy how his thoughts and anxiety just vanished into thin air when you ran towards him and hugged him. 

he couldn't find the words to describe you but then he knew... you're light to his darkness, the energy to his lifeless body and heart and he can't tell how much you mean to him. he keeps looking at you go on and on about something he doesn't even know. what were you talking about again? Was it food? oh no no, you were talking about some colored pasta? 

"shhh y/n...hey... take a breath." he says with a chuckle and you laugh too, taking some breaths because that was a train speed of talk. "we can talk about everything later... i- I need to freshen up." he murmurs and you nod. "yes- yes, please. god, you need to rest- did you have dinner? I think maybe ha-" "I'm okay... I'm okay....did you have dinner?" 

he asks and you look around the room. "I was hungry-" "That's okay, I'm glad you had early dinner." he says with a smile. "I'll shower and then we can talk." you nod as you watch him walk upstairs while you grab yourself some water. you feel relieved that Jungkook came home with a smile and was also speaking much better than he was before. 

you get some water for him too and walk upstairs after giving Bam some good night kisses and pats. "Jungkook I got you a glass of wa-" You enter the room to be met with a sleepy Jungkook.  There he was, sprawled across the bed in exhaustion, One arm dangled off the edge of the mattress, while the other rested limply over his stomach. 

The sheets were barely covering him, bunched up and crumpled around his legs as if he had tossed them aside in his sleep and the faint scent of his shampoo lingered in the air, still fresh from his shower. you melt at the sight of him, he was tired and in need of sleep. you have no idea why he was so grumpy and quiet but you think he might be better tomorrow once he'd gotten his hours of sleep. you place the glass on the bedside table, 

remove the towel from his hand place it inside the washroom bar and turn off the main light. gently without disturbing him, you pulled the sheets from his feet to drape them over his body. Switching on the lamp, the room filled with a soft, warm glow. You slipped onto the bed beside him, careful not to disturb the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. 

He looked so beautiful like this, lost in sleep. His lips were slightly parted, his face relaxed, and his hair, now free from the gel was an untamed mess, damp strands curling naturally against his skin. You couldn't help but reach out, letting your fingers gently brush his forehead. You smoothed his hair back, feeling the soft texture beneath your fingertips as you combed through the damp locks. 

He stirred just slightly, leaning into your touch like it was second nature, but didn't wake. your fingers continue to caress his hair while you admire him, Jungkook stirred, shifting to his side, his movements slow and hazy, like his body wasn't entirely his yet. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and unfocused, blinking a few times as if testing the waking world. 

He smacked his lips softly, the faint taste of sleep lingering on his tongue before his eyelids drooped again. you chuckle at that before turning to your opposite side so you can drift to sleep too. Jungkook shifts closer, nuzzling into your neck as his arm drapes over your waist in a lazy, possessive hold. A soft, contented sound escapes his lips, almost a moan, as he melts into the faint warmth your body offers. 

You've always been the cooler half; his perfect contrast. Even with the air conditioner making your skin cold, your neck somehow retains a subtle warmth that he craves. He doesn't like warmth meeting warmth; as the naturally warmer one, he seeks the chill that balances him out.

 Your body does it effortlessly, the coolness soothing him, grounding him, making him press closer like he's found the perfect spot in a restless world. Jungkook relaxes as he drifts to sleep immediately.

;

Jungkook was already gone to work by the time you woke up, he did leave you a message that having a couple of meets would keep him busy the entire day so you wished him luck on that and chose to keep yourself busy too with the birthday preparations. 

as you give it s thought you kind of feel like Jungkook is intentionally keeping himself busy, could be because it's his birthday or another reason which you aren't aware of. Whatever it is, you hope he comes back home early. Or even if he does come late, you hope he won't sleep like he did yesterday, that would ruin all your plans that you've saved for midnight to surprise him on his 30th birthday.

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn't even realize what day it is. He's completely unaware that tomorrow's September 1st, his birthday. He's too caught up in work, using it as a way to keep busy and avoid thinking about anything relationship-related. 

Honestly, he's not ready to talk about that yet. He knows there's stuff to discuss, but he's still trying to wrap his head around it all. But even with everything going on, he can't help but look forward to the weekend. He wants to get through all the work so he can spend the days with you, doing something he's never done before, baby shopping. 

He wants to shop for baby clothing, the cot, the toys and so much more, he doesn't even know what he's supposed to get but he wants to get it all. He also wants to discuss the whole nursery situation with you, the detailing and colors. There's just about a month left and there's so much to do. He wants to be in every step now, so he doesn't miss out on the last few weeks of your first pregnancy and his first fatherhood experience.

;

It's about 7 pm when the doorbell rings with your phone's ringtone at the same time. It hooks and you rush downstairs carefully to take the items from him and of course to see the man himself. "Hey Hoba!!" oh my goodness, y/n!" 

he walks inside fast and places the cake and other bags inside the room that you told him to and then he jumps on you and gives you the biggest- yet mist gentle hug he could ever manage. "I'm so so so excited for you!!! Congratulations!!" you giggle at his words as he continues to give you one of the longest hugs he has given anyone in a long time. 

"thanks hoba, thanks for everything-" "Oh shut up!! I'm so fucking happy you chose me to do all this arrangement for you." he pulls away and holds your hands. has got the brightest smile on his face, beaming with joy and happiness which radiates to you and makes you happy too. "and I'm forever grateful, no one could do all this except you. Thank you so much Hoseok!!" 

you say and he nods at your words, his eyes lighting up but with so much love that you fail to see. "please call me in the morning!" "Oh I will!!!" you both laugh. "Mr. Jeon's house is beautiful, I mean what else can you expect from the CEO of jeon industries, I'm so not surprised." he mutters as his eyes look around the details and effort of the mansion his CEO built with his own money. "and- to have you. Jackpot." "Stop it." 

you hit his arm, cracking in laughter again but a hue on your cheeks as a sign of blushing. "I think whatever Jungkook has now, he deserves it so much. I'm not talking about me, because to be deserving of him, I have to work harder-" "You don't have to," Hoseok murmurs, his voice softer than usual. You glance at his face and catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, sadness, maybe? You don't know why, but it's there, hidden behind a fleeting expression. 

Then, he smiles, the warmth returning to his face as he looks at you. "He loves you for a reason," he continues, his words steady now, "and that's because you are you." He pauses, almost like he's reassuring himself too, before adding, "He deserves you, and you deserve him. That's all I know." His eyes shift to your belly, and his smile widens.

 "And this little one? The luckiest baby in the world." You can feel the sincerity in his words, and you both smile at his words as you get to the kitchen to offer him some juice. "oh no no, I'm fine y/n please don't trouble yourself-" "just one juice-" "I need to leave y/n, I must go, I've got some work on the way." he insists so you nod and hug him bye at the doorstep. 

Here you are, all alone in this massive mansion, feeling so pumped about everything you've got in the works. Jungkook texted to say he'll be late, and honestly, you're kind of glad. It means you don't have to rush or stress about hiding the surprise just yet. The orders are here, the deco is done and you're ready too. The enthusiasm everyone showed for Jungkook's birthday celebrations really highlights how much they all care about him. 

They were so eager to help in any way they could and managed to make you feel even more excited about everything. It's a testament to how Jungkook treats them, they may be staff, but they truly admire and respect him as their boss. Their genuine love for him is evident in their words, actions, and the respect they show. 

the genuine support and care they show you, proves that they don't just work here, they've built a wonderful relationship with you and the baby too. they're ever so excited to know the gender and you cant wait for the big reveal tonight and the morning when everyone is present. 

you keep looking at the time, the clock strikes 9pm and its still ticking but there's no sign of Jungkook. you're well aware that he's busy but he should've been home way earlier. you try not to worry about it and look at the deco all over again, just in case there's any mistake even though you've already checked it for the 15th time of the hour. 

The entire scene playing out in your mind feels so magical—him walking home after a long day, and you casually forcing him to shower downstairs because apparently something's wrong with the washroom you both share now. 

He doesn't question it, changes into his casuals, and spends time with you like it's any ordinary evening, unaware of what you've planned. When the clock strikes midnight, you excitedly cover his eyes, wish him a heartfelt happy birthday, and guide him upstairs to the room you both share, where everything you've prepared is waiting. 

The thought of his reaction and the little details of the moment make you giggle just thinking about it. And then, right on cue, you hear the main door open—and he walks in, just as you imagined. or maybe not....

next chapter ⇢

hope you enjoyed this chap, let me know how you feel about this chap in the comments!

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

pairing: pirate!seonghwa x princess!reader au: pirate au genre: angst with happy ending word count: 9.3k synopsis: she refuses to be wed to someone she doesn't love. Her last resort? to run away with the pirate that stole her useless crown. warning(s): toxic family relationships, screaming match. cursing. please let me know if i miss anything else!!

" don't go to far, please - the last thing i need is a headache from one of you," Hongjoong spoke, mainly looking at Wooyoung and Yuna who held a sheepish smile.

Hongjoong sighed as he crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Wooyoung and Yuna. They both wore matching sheepish grins, looking like kids caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

"I'm serious," Hongjoong continued, his tone firm but tinged with a familiar exasperation. "Just stick to the group and don’t make me come looking for you. This isn’t the kind of place to mess around in."

Wooyoung, ever the troublemaker, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Captain. We’ll behave. Scouts’ honor."

Yuna nudged him playfully, suppressing a laugh. "You’ve never been a scout a day in your life."

"Details," Wooyoung quipped with a grin.

Hongjoong shook his head, muttering under his breath about regretting every decision that led to this moment. “I mean it, Wooyoung. No wandering off, no dumb dares, and definitely no—”

“Hongjoong, we got it!” Yuna cut in with a giggle, grabbing Wooyoung’s arm to pull him toward the others. “Come on, let’s not give him a real headache.”

As the pair walked off, Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose. Seonghwa chuckled as he walked up to his captain, " i'm sure they'll find trouble one way or another,"

Hongjoong let out a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging as he turned to face Seonghwa. "That’s exactly what I’m afraid of," he muttered, his tone a mix of frustration and resignation. Hongjoong shook his head as he walked back to the ship, mumbling under his breathe as Seonghwa laughed.

Yeosang and Luna came with a wide smile placed on their face, " we'll keep an eye on them. Shouldn't be to hard since cap just want's to rest up for a little."

Hongjoong glanced at Yeosang and Luna, his expression skeptical but hopeful. "You two?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You’re volunteering to babysit them?"

Yeosang nodded, his ever-calm demeanor unshaken. "It’s better than letting them run loose. Besides," he added with a faint smirk, "how much trouble can they really get into in one evening?"

Luna grinned, hands on her hips. "Don’t answer that, Captain. We’ve got this. You go rest before you stress yourself into an early retirement."

Seonghwa chuckled, falling into step beside Hongjoong as they headed toward the ship. "See? Delegation. You’re learning."

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, though the hint of a smile crept onto his face. "Fine," he relented, pointing a finger at Yeosang and Luna. "But if I hear even one yell, crash, or scream, you’re both cleaning the whole deck tomorrow."

"Deal," Luna chirped, giving an exaggerated salute. "Come on, Yeosang. Let’s make sure the chaos twins don’t set anything on fire."

As they headed off in Wooyoung and Yuna’s direction, Hongjoong let out a long breath. "I’ll take what peace I can get," he muttered, heading for the ship’s cabin.

Seonghwa nudged him with a grin. "See? Maybe they’ll surprise you for once."

"Don’t jinx it," Hongjoong shot back, his tone dry but amused.

---

" yn, if you don't take your princess duty seriously you'll never find a husband!" your mother yelled, following behind you as you huffed in annoyance.

You stormed down the grand hallway, your footsteps echoing against the marble floor as your mother’s voice followed closely behind, sharp and insistent.

"Yn! Are you even listening to me?" she snapped, her tone climbing in frustration. "You can't just waltz around avoiding your responsibilities. A proper princess is dignified, poised, and knows her role!"

Turning on your heel, you faced her with an exasperated glare. "Mother, I don’t want to find a husband just because it’s expected of me," you shot back. "I have more important things to focus on than playing the perfect doll in some fairytale."

Her expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You think this is just about you? This is about the kingdom—about your duty!"

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. "And what about what I want? Have you ever considered that?"

She stepped closer, lowering her voice but losing none of its intensity. "What I’ve considered is the weight of this crown and the legacy you’ll inherit. Like it or not, you don’t have the luxury of selfishness, Yn."

She let out a long sigh as she walked up to you, her heels clicking as you turn away from her.

" yn, you and i both know that since we're born as women, we're nothing but breeding mares for this kingdom,"

Her words struck a nerve, freezing you in place. You didn’t turn back to face her, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. The weight of her statement settled over you like a heavy shroud, suffocating and inescapable.

"That’s not fair," you whispered, your voice low but laced with defiance.

"Life isn’t fair," she replied, her tone softer now but no less resolute. Her heels clicked against the floor again as she approached, the sound a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the inevitability of her words. "Do you think I wanted this life? To be defined by my duty, my marriage, my children?"

You turned to her then, your eyes blazing with frustration and pain. "Then why force it on me? If you hated it so much, why make me follow the same path?"

She paused, the lines of her face softening as her gaze met yours. For a moment, she looked less like the stern queen and more like a tired woman who had carried too much for too long. " my love, your father would have both our heads if we dared."

Your mother placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face her. Her touch was gentle, but her words carried a weight that made your chest tighten. You met her gaze, and for a moment, the mask of the ever-dutiful queen cracked, revealing the vulnerable woman underneath.

"Yn," she began softly, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice, "I understand more than you think. There was a time when I dreamed of more, too. But your father—" She paused, glancing away as if the mere mention of him cast a shadow over the room. "He is not a man who tolerates defiance."

You swallowed hard, the mention of your father sending a chill through you. "That doesn’t mean we have to live in fear of him forever," you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Her hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, her eyes searching yours. "It’s not just fear, my love. It’s survival. Every choice I’ve made has been to protect you—to protect us."

"Protect me from what?" you challenged, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "From living? From being more than what he expects of us?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes softened with a sorrow that seemed to stretch back through years of quiet sacrifices. "From his wrath," she whispered. "From a world that will not forgive us for stepping out of line."

You shook your head, your heart aching with a mix of anger and compassion. "I don’t want to live like this, Mother. I can’t. I’ll find a way to be free, even if it means facing his wrath."

Her eyes glistened, and for a brief moment, you thought she might cry, but she held herself together. "You’re braver than I ever was," she said quietly. "But bravery can be a double-edged sword. Promise me you’ll be careful, Yn. Please."

"I promise," you replied, though you weren’t sure if it was a lie or not.

She gave you a faint, bittersweet smile, her hand lingering on your shoulder a moment longer before she let go. "Then may the gods watch over you," she said, turning to leave, her regal composure returning with every step.

---

Seonghwa weaved through the bustling market stalls, his sharp eyes scanning the vibrant scene around him. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, fresh bread, and roasting meats, while the hum of chatter and the occasional bark of a merchant echoed through the narrow streets. Yunho kept pace beside him, his easy smile drawing glances from passersby.

Behind them, Jongho walked with a steady stride, his expression calm but alert, his arms crossed as he kept a watchful eye on the group. Mingi, on the other hand, couldn’t help but drift from stall to stall, his curiosity pulling him toward anything that glittered or smelled enticing.

"Keep an eye on Mingi before he buys half the market," Seonghwa murmured to Yunho, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Yunho chuckled, glancing back to see Mingi enthusiastically inspecting a tray of sparkling trinkets. "I’ll rein him in if he starts haggling. You know how he gets."

San trailed just behind Mingi, clearly enjoying the lively atmosphere. He paused to admire a display of ornate daggers, his fingers brushing the intricate carvings on the hilts. "These are nice," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Jongho. "Bet you’d like one of these."

Jongho raised an eyebrow but didn’t break stride. "I’d rather not have to use one, but thanks."

Seonghwa slowed his pace, letting the group catch up as they reached the heart of the market, a wide square where performers entertained small crowds and merchants hawked their finest wares. "Stick together," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention."

"Too late for that," Yunho teased, gesturing subtly to a group of onlookers whose curiosity was clearly piqued by their presence.

Seonghwa sighed, adjusting his cloak to obscure the insignia on his chest. "Just stay sharp. We’re here for supplies, not trouble."

"Trouble always seems to find us anyway," Mingi said with a grin, finally stepping away from the jewelry stall to join the group.

"Let’s hope it takes its time today," Seonghwa replied, his eyes sweeping the square once more before leading them toward the next row of stalls.

The sudden yells from guards caught their attention as they see wooyoung, yuna, luna and yeosang running pass them. Wooyoung halting as he held a grin on his face.

" hyung, hold this for me yeah?"

Seonghwa barely had time to register what was happening before Wooyoung shoved a small, wrapped bundle into his hands, the grin on his face both mischievous and unapologetic.

“Wooyoung—what did you do?” Seonghwa asked, his tone sharp as his eyes darted to the approaching guards, their shouts growing louder.

“Nothing you need to worry about, hyung!” Wooyoung called back as he started running again, laughing as Yuna tugged at his sleeve to keep him moving. Luna and Yeosang were right behind, both looking equal parts amused and panicked.

Mingi blinked, staring at the fleeing group before glancing at the bundle in Seonghwa’s hands. “Uh…should we be concerned about whatever that is?”

San smirked, crossing his arms. “Knowing Wooyoung? Absolutely.”

Seonghwa let out a frustrated sigh, quickly unwrapping the bundle just enough to peek inside. His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of crown.

“Are you kidding me?” he hissed, his gaze snapping back to the fleeing figures.

Yunho chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, it’s Wooyoung. Are you really surprised?”

“Not the point,” Seonghwa snapped, shoving the bundle under his cloak as the guards approached, their faces flushed with anger.

“You there!” one of the guards barked, pointing at Seonghwa and his group. “Did you see four troublemakers run through here?”

Seonghwa straightened, his expression calm and unreadable. “Troublemakers? No, but the market’s busy today. They could’ve gone anywhere.”

The guard narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced, but another called out, “They went that way!” pointing in the opposite direction.

As the guards ran off, Seonghwa exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the bundle. “We’re going to kill him.”

" not before captain does, so should we bother saving them?" Jongho asked, amused.

Seonghwa paused mid-step, glancing at Jongho with a raised brow. “Captain’s wrath is inevitable,” he admitted, tucking the bundle deeper into his cloak. “But if we don’t step in, they’ll probably end up in the dungeon—or worse. And you know who will have to smooth things over then.”

Yunho chuckled, hands resting on his hips. “That’s true. I’d rather deal with Captain’s yelling than a week of palace politics.”

Mingi nodded enthusiastically. “Same. Last time Wooyoung got caught, I spent three days explaining to the magistrate why we weren’t a band of criminals.”

San smirked, leaning slightly against a nearby stall. “Let them sweat it out for a bit. Maybe they’ll learn something.”

Jongho tilted his head, his expression unreadable save for the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Unlikely, but it’s a nice thought.”

Seonghwa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If we leave them, Captain will hold us accountable for not intervening sooner. So yes, we’re saving them.”

“Fine,” San said with a mock sigh, pushing off the stall. “But only because I don’t feel like listening to Captain’s lecture either.”

“Agreed,” Jongho said with a small smile, already falling in step with the group. “Though I still think it’s entertaining to watch them dig their own graves.”

Yunho clapped a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder as they started moving again. “You’ve got to admit, though, they make life interesting.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Too interesting,” he muttered, picking up the pace. “Let’s make sure they don’t burn the entire market down before we get to them.”

--- Seonghwa crouched low, his dark cloak blending seamlessly with the shadows as he approached the massive palace doors. The weight of the task ahead pressed heavily on his chest, but he refused to let it show. His eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked over the guards stationed at their posts—he could slip past them, he knew it. He was the Seonghwa, Hongjoong's first mate, after all. He’d navigated worse situations before; this was nothing compared to the battles and escapes he had mastered in the past.

Still, the closer he got to the door, the more the dread settled in his gut. There was something about tonight—about this mission—that felt different. The palace held too many secrets, too many eyes watching. Every step felt like it could be his last if even the slightest mistake was made.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, forcing the tension out of his body, and reminded himself of the importance of the mission. He wasn’t here to be caught. He just needed to place the crown back before the realized it was stolen.

He glanced back at the shadows where Mingi and Yunho were waiting, their eyes flashing with silent determination. The rest of the crew would stay on standby, ready to move if needed. But Seonghwa didn’t want it to come to that.

He focused on the door again, studying the guards’ movements. Timing was everything, and he knew the exact second to make his move. A guard yawned, shifting his position just enough to allow Seonghwa the window he needed.

With a practiced grace, he moved, slipping into the palace hall with barely a sound, his heart beating only slightly faster than usual. The grand hall was quiet, the only noise the distant echoes of the palace's humming life. He didn’t have much time before someone would notice he had entered.

He moved swiftly through the corridors, his boots soft on the marble floors, but his mind was alert. There were more guards inside than he’d anticipated, and the risk of discovery increased with each step. But Seonghwa trusted in his skill, in his ability to navigate even the most heavily guarded places.

"Focus," he whispered to himself, mentally shaking off the unease that tried to take root. This was just another challenge, another step in the game. He had overcome far worse than this.

And he would get out. He would finish this.

Finally, he reached the familiar doors—the ones that led to the chambers where you were likely being kept. His heart pounded now, but it wasn’t fear; it was the sharp anticipation of success. He reached for the hidden key he'd stolen earlier from one of the servants, his fingers trembling just slightly as he slid it into the lock.

With a soft click, the door creaked open. Seonghwa slipped inside.

Seonghwa moved swiftly, his cloak swishing behind him as he placed the crown back into its original position on the velvet pillow. His breath slowed, and for a moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place. He had done it. The crown was back in its place, and the plan could continue without any major repercussions.

But as he turned to leave, his heart skipped a beat. The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway just outside the chamber door. The guards were coming. They had to be.

Seonghwa’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a place to hide, but there was nowhere near enough time. His pulse quickened as the door handle began to turn. He had to make a decision, and quickly.

With a final glance at the crown—now safely restored—he slipped into the shadows, holding his breath as the door creaked open, praying that the guards wouldn’t notice the subtle shift in the room. The smallest movement could betray him. The smallest hesitation could ruin everything.

He remained still, blending into the darkness as the guards entered, their voices low, but their presence filling the space. The tension was unbearable, each second stretching on forever as Seonghwa prayed they wouldn’t see him, wouldn’t find him hiding in plain sight.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guards turned and left, oblivious to the fact that someone had been there, so close to the crown they had sworn to protect.

Seonghwa let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He moved quietly toward the door, already planning his next steps. The crown was back. Now, he just needed to get out of the palace undetected and reunite with the others before it was too late.

" ahem,"

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat as the voice pierced through the stillness of the room, his body going rigid with shock. He had been so close to escaping undetected, but now... now he was caught. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his blade, but he stopped himself just as quickly. There was no immediate threat here, no alarm ringing out, but the feeling of being exposed was enough to make his heart race.

You stood there, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips, watching him closely. The flicker of moonlight from the nearby window caught in your eyes, making them gleam with mischief and a hint of something else—something that Seonghwa couldn’t quite place. He felt his muscles tense as he quickly scanned the room, but there was no way out now. You had him cornered.

"Well, well," you said with a teasing edge to your voice, taking a few more steps toward him. "I must say, I’m surprised to see you here. The Park Seonghwa, first mate of captain hongjoong."

" get on with it," Seonghwa hissed

You paused, your smirk widening as you noticed the flicker of impatience in Seonghwa's eyes. His posture had shifted slightly, the sharp tension in his body betraying just how on edge he was. But you weren't about to make it easy for him.

"You really thought you'd sneak in here unnoticed, huh?" you teased, taking another step closer, your eyes never leaving his. "I mean, first mate of Captain Hongjoong—quite the title, don’t you think? Surely, you’re used to getting away with anything."

Seonghwa’s patience was wearing thin, but he forced himself to stay composed, his voice low and controlled. "Get on with it," he repeated, the command sharp, but his gaze still wary, measuring you.

You didn’t flinch at his harsh tone, your gaze unwavering. "Alright, alright," you said, drawing the words out slowly, savoring the moment. "I’m not here to ruin your little heist. If that's what you’re worried about."

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered to the crown for a split second before returning to you, suspicion rising. "Then what do you want?"

" freedom,"

Seonghwa looked at you confused, " freedom? you're the fucking princess and you're asking a pirate for freedom?"

You chuckled softly at Seonghwa's reaction, the confusion in his eyes only making your smirk widen. The idea of freedom, of escape, was something you knew all too well. You took a deliberate step forward, close enough now that you could almost feel the tension crackling between you.

"Yes, freedom," you repeated, your voice steady despite the fire in his gaze. "The kind of freedom you can’t buy or steal. The kind of freedom that means being in control of your own life for once. That’s what I’m after."

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed deeper, disbelief written across his face. "You want freedom?" He scoffed, taking a half-step back, disbelief and annoyance mixing in his expression. "You're the princess. You’ve got everything handed to you. Power, wealth, luxury. What the hell do you need freedom for?"

You held his gaze, unflinching, your voice lower now, almost a whisper. "You think I don’t know what people like you think of people like me?" There was a cold edge in your words, one that matched the resolve in your eyes. "You think I’ve spent my entire life locked away in some gilded cage, waiting for someone to save me. But that’s not the kind of freedom I want."

Seonghwa was silent for a moment, his confusion giving way to a flicker of realization. "So what do you want from me?" he asked, voice quieter now, as if the game had shifted.

You tilted your head slightly, the smirk still playing on your lips, though it was tempered by something more dangerous now. "You’re a pirate, right? You live by your own rules. You fight for your own freedom every damn day. I need someone like you to help me escape this place. And I’m offering you a deal in return."

Seonghwa’s gaze narrowed, and for a brief moment, his mind seemed to be working through all the angles. You were the princess, but there was something in your demeanor—something in the way you spoke—that made him wonder if you were telling the truth. You weren't the helpless, sheltered royal he had expected. You were calculating, strategic. And maybe, just maybe, you were a risk worth taking.

"You want me to help you escape," he said slowly, still processing the idea.

you nodded, a sigh escaping Seonghwa as he held his hand out. Your heart practically leaped out your chest as you grabbed it. This was it, you're finally leaving.

---

Seonghwa stood tall, his back straight, even as Hongjoong's frustration seemed to fill the entire room, thick and suffocating. Wooyoung, Yuna, Yeosang, and Luna remained quiet, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them. They knew stealing the crown would bring punishment, but to have Hongjoong this furious was not on their agenda.

Hongjoong’s pacing grew more erratic, the sound of his boots on the floor sharp, each step echoing in the cabin. His gaze snapped to Seonghwa, his voice sharp as a whip. "This was not the fucking plan, Seonghwa!" Hongjoong spat, his eyes burning with anger. "You were supposed to bring the crown back, not bring back a fucking princess. The princess at that!"

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, but he refused to let his gaze falter. He could feel the tension in the room, could practically hear the others holding their breath, waiting for the confrontation to unfold.

"You don’t understand," Seonghwa finally said, his voice unwavering, though there was a hard edge to it now.

Hongjoong scoffed, looking at the four, " the four of you out. now"

The command was sharp, and the weight of it hit the room like a slap. Hongjoong’s gaze swept across the four of them—Wooyoung, Yuna, Yeosang, and Luna—each of them tense under his gaze. None of them moved immediately, all of them holding their breath, unsure if they were meant to stay or if their captain's words were final.

Yuna was the first to step back, her face set with a mixture of uncertainty and resignation. Yeosang followed suit, his eyes flicking between Seonghwa and Hongjoong before silently turning to leave. Luna hesitated only for a moment, then moved with quick, quiet steps toward the door, her head lowered.

Wooyoung, however, stayed rooted in place, his usual mischievous grin nowhere to be found. He exchanged a glance with Seonghwa, an unspoken question in his eyes. But even he knew when to back down—at least for now.

"Come on, Wooyoung," Yuna called softly from the doorway, her voice breaking the tense silence. "Let’s go."

With a reluctant sigh, Wooyoung turned toward the door, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. He gave Seonghwa a last look, his expression unreadable, before following the others out of the cabin.

The door closed softly behind them, leaving Hongjoong and Seonghwa alone. The air in the room felt thick, like the calm before a storm. Hongjoong stood there for a long moment, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface.

"You’ve lost your fucking mind," Hongjoong muttered , his voice lower now, quieter, the anger still simmering beneath his words.

Seonghwa wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew better.

" you're my first mate for a reason Seonghwa. What made you think it would be a great fucking idea to bring a princess on board?"

Seonghwa bit back the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that Hongjoong was far too sharp to miss any sign of defiance. He stood straighter, forcing himself to remain composed, even though the question felt like an obvious one to him.

" she wants freedom like we do captain. Isn't that why you made this crew? for us to have freedom that we couldn't have?"

Seonghwa's words hung in the air, and for a moment, Hongjoong paused, his back still turned to Seonghwa. The question had landed squarely in the captain's mind, and for the first time in a while, doubt crept in.

Hongjoong’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice low but tinged with the weight of his past decisions. "I didn’t form this crew just for freedom, Seonghwa," he muttered, his eyes staring out at the endless ocean, as though seeking answers from it. "I formed it to survive. To fight back against the system that kept us shackled. But freedom—true freedom—it’s a luxury. And it doesn’t come easily. You’re talking about taking a princess on board as if she’s just another crew member, but she’s not. She’s royalty. She’s got her own ties, her own rules, and all of those ties will pull her in directions we can’t control."

Seonghwa's scoff echoed in the tense silence, and the moment it left his lips, even he felt the sharpness of his words. He hadn’t meant for his frustration to slip through so visibly, but it was too late to take it back. Hongjoong turned his head quickly, his sharp eyes narrowing on him as if searching for any sign of weakness.

"I’m not some fucking foster home to keep bringing in strays, Park Seonghwa. First Luna, now Yuna, now you’re bringing me a god damn princess."

Seonghwa’s gaze hardened, but he refused to let Hongjoong's words throw him off course. "You want to talk about strays, Captain?" His voice was low, but the underlying edge made it clear he wasn’t backing down. "What about us? What about you? We’re all strays. Pirates, outcasts, cast aside by the world we were born into. None of us fit in anywhere. We made this ship our home, and we fight for the freedom we never got. And you want to call her a stray?"

Hongjoong’s fist slammed onto the desk with a loud crack, the force of it making the wood shake beneath the impact. The sudden motion made Seonghwa flinch, his body stiffening as the captain’s anger surged in the room like a storm.

"She is a princess, Seonghwa," Hongjoong snarled, his voice seething with frustration.

"Oh, but it was fine when Mina joined, huh?" Seonghwa’s voice was laced with frustration, but there was an edge to it that Hongjoong hadn’t expected. "It’s not my fault she left you!"

Seonghwa's words hit the air like a slap, sharp and cutting. Hongjoong froze, his face hardening at the mention of Mina. The room seemed to freeze for a moment, tension crackling between them like a storm about to break. The mention of Mina, a name that had always carried so much weight in Hongjoong’s life, caused a flicker of pain in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides, the words stinging more than he wanted to admit.

"Get out," Hongjoong snarled, his voice cutting through the tension in the room like a blade.

Seonghwa’s throat tightened, the weight of his words crashing down on him. He had never seen Hongjoong this angry, this raw with emotion. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, but the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say anymore.

"Now."

Seonghwa hesitated, regret gnawing at him as he looked at Hongjoong, but he knew better than to push further. The captain was done, and Seonghwa had overstepped. With a final glance, Seonghwa nodded, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach.

" captain -"

" OUT SEONGHWA!"

Seonghwa hesitated for a split second longer, wanting to explain, to make things right, but the door to reconciliation had already been slammed shut. Without another word, he turned away from Hongjoong and walked toward the door.

----

Yn watched from her position by the railing, her gaze tracking Seonghwa’s retreating figure. She could see the tight set of his shoulders, the way his footsteps lacked the usual confidence, and she knew something had happened. She could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to taste. It wasn't hard to guess that the argument between him and Hongjoong hadn't gone well.

Seonghwa’s eyes didn’t meet hers as he passed, his expression a mix of frustration and regret, but he didn’t slow down. His focus was entirely on the quarter deck, where his duties awaited. Yn felt a tug in her chest, unsure whether she should approach or give him space. But the coldness in his demeanor made her hesitate.

Yn turned at the sound of Yunho and San’s voices, both of them standing a few steps behind her with understanding smiles. It was clear they had noticed the same tension in the air, but unlike her, they seemed unfazed by it.

"Don’t worry about him," Yunho said gently, his tone reassuring. "They both just need to cool off."

San chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It’s always like this with them. They’re both stubborn as hell. They’ll figure it out."

Yn gave them a small smile, though her mind was still caught up in the events of the day. She knew they were right—Seonghwa and Hongjoong both had strong personalities, and clashes were inevitable. But the way Seonghwa had walked away, his usual confidence gone, made her wonder how deep the rift had really gone.

Yn turned at the sound of Mingi's voice, his playful grin immediately catching her attention. He leaned casually against the railing, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Behind him, Yeosang, who had been quietly observing, gave her a soft, knowing smile.

Mingi raised an eyebrow, his gaze filled with curiosity. "So, a princess, huh? What made you want to run away?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was a genuine interest there too. It was clear he was intrigued by her decision, and despite his usual easy-going demeanor, he wasn’t afraid to ask the tough questions.

" you try marrying a person you don't love" You said, sticking your tongue out.

Mingi chuckled at your response, shaking his head as he reached out and lightly ruffled your hair. "Fair point," he said, his tone filled with amusement.

" but i can assure you, you're not our first princess, princess" Yunho said, chuckling.

You raised an eyebrow at Yunho's words, the teasing tone in his voice sparking your curiosity. You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Oh?" you asked, genuinely intrigued. "And who might the other princesses be?"

" me"

You looked at a girl - who was clinging onto wooyoung who held a friendly smile. You smiled at her, jumping up and clung to her arm.

" you're going to be my new best friend"

----

It had been a week since Seonghwa had brought Yn aboard the ship, and the tension between him and Hongjoong was still thick in the air. The crew had begun to adjust to the presence of the princess among them, though things still felt unsettled. The laughter and lighthearted moments that had once filled the ship’s decks now seemed tempered by the silent rift between the captain and his first mate.

Yn, for her part, had tried to adapt to life on board, finding comfort in the camaraderie of the crew. She had formed a bond with Mingi and Yunho, and even the quieter members like Yeosang had made her feel welcome. Despite everything, the sea felt like the freedom she had been seeking, even if she knew things were far from perfect. But she couldn't ignore the unease whenever she passed Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

Hongjoong hadn’t spoken much to Seonghwa after their heated argument. The captain had kept his distance, his cold stares and sharp words hanging over their interactions like a storm cloud. It wasn’t just the crew who felt the divide; it was the air around the ship itself—heavy, charged, like a brewing storm just waiting to break.

Seonghwa had done his best to keep a low profile, sticking to his duties, but there was an underlying tension in his every movement. He tried to interact with the crew as normal, though it was clear that his thoughts were elsewhere, constantly shifting between guilt and frustration. His attempt to bring Yn into the fold had backfired in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and the guilt of betraying Hongjoong’s trust weighed on him more than he cared to admit.

For now, everything seemed to be in a holding pattern. The crew was going about their work, the usual banter and laughter returning in fits and starts, but there was still a heavy silence whenever Seonghwa or Hongjoong were around. It was clear that something needed to give, but no one could say when or how.

" hwa.."

Seonghwa looked at the princess, his chest tighten as he went back to peeling his orange. you huffed in annoyance, sitting beside him.

"im sorry for having hongjoong yell at you..."

Seonghwa's hand paused mid-peel, the orange's skin half-removed as his gaze softened. He had been avoiding this conversation, but the sincerity in your voice made it impossible to ignore. He let out a slow breath, his fingers carefully continuing their task as he glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Yn..." he began, his voice quiet but steady, "It's not your fault. Hongjoong has his reasons, even if they don’t always make sense to the rest of us."

You watched him for a moment, sensing the weight in his words. The crew might have laughed and joked, but you could see how much this whole situation was taking a toll on him. You reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm, your voice low but determined.

"I don’t want to be the reason for any more tension between you two," you said softly.

Seonghwa shook his head, " it was my decision princess, don't worry about it." You frowned, watching Seonghwa as he meticulously separated a segment of the orange and popped it into his mouth, clearly trying to end the conversation. But you couldn’t just let it go. His nonchalance only made the guilt in your chest heavier.

"But you’re paying for that decision," you said, your voice tinged with frustration. "Hongjoong hasn’t spoken to you in a week, Seonghwa. That’s not fair."

Seonghwa sighed, placing the rest of the orange down on the railing beside him. He turned to you, his dark eyes softening slightly. "Life isn’t fair, Princess. Especially not out here. I knew what I was doing when I brought you on board. I’d make the same choice again, even knowing the consequences."

Your heart clenched at his words, the conviction behind them making it hard to argue. Still, the guilt gnawed at you. "I just... I don’t want to be the cause of a rift in your crew. You’re all like a family. I’ve seen how much this ship and these people mean to you."

Seonghwa gave a small, bittersweet smile, brushing his hands off on his pants. "We are a family, but even families fight. Hongjoong will come around—he always does. He’s stubborn, but he’s not unreasonable. He’ll see why I made the choice I did, even if it takes time."

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the calm assurance in his voice. Even in the middle of this storm, Seonghwa seemed so composed, so unwavering.

"And if he doesn’t?" you asked quietly.

Seonghwa tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Then I’ll just have to live with it. My loyalty to this crew isn’t in question, Princess. I brought you here because I believe you deserve a chance at freedom, just like the rest of us. If Hongjoong can’t accept that... well, I’ll deal with that when it comes."

Your chest tightened at his words, a mix of admiration and worry filling you. "You shouldn’t have to sacrifice so much for me," you said softly.

Seonghwa chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You’ll find, Princess, that sacrifices are part of life. Especially out here. You just have to make sure what you’re sacrificing for is worth it."

He reached out and gently tapped the back of your hand, his touch reassuring. "And you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise."

months later ~

Hongjoong’s gaze was sharp as he leaned against the railing near Mingi, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were fixed on Yn, who was kneeling beside Yuna, both laughing as they worked on cleaning the fish they had just caught. Her movements were clumsy, a clear sign that she wasn’t used to such tasks, but her genuine effort seemed to amuse Yuna.

Mingi glanced at the captain, sensing the tension radiating from him. He shifted slightly, keeping one hand steady on the wheel while glancing between Hongjoong and the scene below.

“Still not warming up to her, huh?” Mingi asked, his tone light but careful.

Hongjoong’s lips twitched slightly, though he quickly masked it with a deep sigh. The sound of Yuna gagging in exaggerated disgust echoed across the deck as Yn doubled over in laughter, holding her sides.

“Oh, come on, Yuna, it’s just a little fish guts!” Yn teased, holding up her hands, which were covered in the slimy remains.

Yuna dramatically turned away, clutching her stomach. “Ugh, you’re worse than Wooyoung! I didn’t think that was even possible.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung called out from where he stood with Seonghwa, his mock-offended tone drawing more laughter from the crew.

Mingi grinned, glancing at Hongjoong out of the corner of his eye. “She’s fitting in, Captain. Whether you like it or not.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond, his gaze flicking back to Yn. She had taken a step closer to Yuna, holding out her hands playfully as if threatening to wipe the mess on her. Yuna shrieked and darted away, the two now engaged in a spirited chase across the deck.

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment as he approached you, his usual stoic demeanor faltering just slightly. Despite the fact that you were smeared with fish guts and laughing like a child, there was something about your smile that made his heart stumble in his chest.

“You’re making quite the impression, Princess,” he said, his voice laced with teasing as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You grinned up at him, wiping your hands on your already filthy cloak. “What can I say? I’m a fast learner. Yuna’s just being dramatic.”

From behind you, Yuna groaned loudly, still recovering from her exaggerated reaction. “Dramatic? You’re disgusting, Yn!”

Seonghwa chuckled, the sound soft but genuine. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean rag and offering it to you. “Here. Maybe clean up before someone mistakes you for part of the catch.”

You took the rag with a playful roll of your eyes, but your smile never wavered. As you wiped your hands, you looked up at him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh this much since I got here, Seonghwa. Are you finally warming up to me?”

Seonghwa smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Princess. I’m just amused at how quickly you’ve adapted to life on the ship. Even if it’s... unconventional.”

You pretended to be offended, placing a hand over your heart. “Unconventional? I’ll have you know I’m blending in perfectly. Right, Yuna?”

Yuna, now leaning against the railing and catching her breath, shot Seonghwa a look. “She’s your problem now, Hwa. I’m done.”

Seonghwa shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh as you turned back to him with an innocent expression. “Looks like I’m stuck with you,” he said with mock resignation.

“Could be worse,” you replied, giving him a wink.

Seonghwa's smile faltered as his gaze shifted upward. Standing on the upper deck, Hongjoong’s figure loomed above, his expression unreadable. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, a silent exchange passing between them. Seonghwa’s chest tightened as he braced himself for whatever silent judgment his captain might be harboring.

Without a word, Hongjoong turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the helm, leaving Seonghwa standing there, the weight of that look settling heavily on his shoulders.

You followed Seonghwa’s gaze, frowning slightly. “He’s still upset, isn’t he?”

Seonghwa exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he tore his eyes away from where Hongjoong had stood. “Hongjoong’s always thinking five steps ahead. He’s not upset—he’s calculating.”

“Calculating what?” you asked, your tone gentle but curious.

Seonghwa hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Whether I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life bringing you here, Princess.”

Your heart sank at his words, but before you could respond, Seonghwa turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. “Don’t take it personally. Hongjoong doesn’t trust easily—it’s not just you. He’s always been like this.”

You gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Still... I don’t want to be the reason things are strained between you two. I’ll prove I’m worth the risk.”

Seonghwa’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile. “You’ve got guts, Princess. I’ll give you that.”

As he spoke, the sound of Wooyoung’s laughter carried over from the other side of the deck, followed by Yuna’s mock protests. The ship seemed alive with energy, but the weight of Hongjoong’s lingering gaze hung in the back of Seonghwa’s mind.

“Come on,” Seonghwa said, nodding toward the rigging. “Let’s get you out of Yuna’s hair before she decides to throw you overboard.”

----

Seonghwa stood at the edge of the deck, his arms crossed as he watched you splash in the water with Yuna and Luna. The laughter that echoed across the ship was infectious, pulling a rare smile from his lips despite his usual stoic demeanor.

Yuna’s tail shimmered brightly under the sunlight, its scales catching the rays and casting iridescent patterns across the surface of the water. She flicked it playfully, sending a spray of water your way, making you squeal and shield your face. Luna’s laughter joined yours, her voice carrying easily over the gentle lapping of the waves.

"They’re like kids," Wooyoung muttered beside Seonghwa, leaning casually against the railing. His grin was wide, his eyes filled with amusement.

Seonghwa didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as you tried to splash Yuna back, only to trip slightly in the shallow water and laugh at yourself. There was something so unguarded, so free, about the way you moved. It was a stark contrast to the formality you’d arrived with.

Seonghwa shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. "She deserves it," he murmured, more to himself than to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, leaning lazily against the railing, raised an eyebrow at Seonghwa’s uncharacteristically soft expression. "You’re really gone, huh?" he teased, his grin mischievous. "Who would’ve thought Park Seonghwa, the unshakable first mate, has a soft spot for a runaway princess?"

Seonghwa shot him a look, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. " say's the one who also helped a princess escape."

Wooyoung smirked, unfazed. " touche " he said with a shrug.

" when did you first knew you love yuna Wooyoung?" seonghwa asked, your laughter filling the air.

Wooyoung leaned against the railing, his trademark smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at Seonghwa. But when he noticed your laughter echoing in the background, his grin softened into something more genuine.

"I think it was the first time she threatened to drown me."

Seonghwa’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Wooyoung. "You’re telling me you fell in love with her because she threatened to drown you?" he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and concern.

Wooyoung, however, seemed entirely unfazed, chuckling under his breath. "What? I like my women spicy," he replied nonchalantly, his grin never faltering. "Yuna was fiery from the start, and that’s what I liked. She wasn’t scared to speak her mind, even if it meant threatening to drag me under."

Seonghwa blinked at him, clearly trying to process the absurdity of it all. "You’re insane, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung just shrugged, still amused by the whole memory. "Hey, it wasn’t just the threat. It was the way she stood her ground. Most people would’ve run off or apologized right away, but not her. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘I’ll drown you if you don’t let me go,’ and I respected that."

Seonghwa sighed, rubbing his temples as he let the words sink in. "Only you, Wooyoung."

"Well, yeah," Wooyoung said, flashing a playful grin. "But you can’t say it didn’t work. I’m still here."

Seonghwa glanced at Yuna, who was laughing with you at the edge of the water. His expression softened slightly, despite the ridiculousness of Wooyoung’s words. "I think we all know you’re a lost cause when it comes to Yuna," he muttered under his breath.

Wooyoung caught the look in Seonghwa’s eyes and nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Don’t look at me like that, Hwa. You know how it is. Once you meet someone like her, there’s no turning back."

Seonghwa didn’t reply, but the quiet understanding between them was enough. Seonghwa watched as you waved at him, your hair glistening with droplets of water, a soft smile on your face. For a brief moment, there was a quiet tenderness in his gaze before it was interrupted by Luna, who tackled you into the water with a loud splash. Seonghwa couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful chaos unfolding in front of him. Yeah, he knew you would be the one.

----

" alright, now that we are on port. Seonghwa and yn will be the ones to head to the market and get our supplies. You four are to stay here. understood." Hongjoong said, glaring at the wooyoung, yeosang, yuna and luna.

The crew stood in silence, their attention on Hongjoong as he issued his orders. Wooyoung, Yeosang, Yuna, and Luna exchanged looks, none of them exactly thrilled with the captain’s decision, but they didn’t argue. Hongjoong's tone left little room for protest.

"Understood, Captain," Seonghwa said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of authority, though he kept his expression neutral. He shot a quick glance at you, offering a faint smile that was more reassuring than anything.

"Yeah, yeah, we got it," Wooyoung muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the railing, clearly less than thrilled with being left behind. "But don’t take too long, alright? We’ll get bored without you two."

Yuna rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched in a smile. "I swear, Wooyoung, you act like we're going on some grand adventure. It's just supplies."

"You don’t understand," Wooyoung responded dramatically. "I need my entertainment."

Luna, standing beside Yuna, snorted with laughter, shaking her head. "You always need entertainment, Wooyoung."

Hongjoong ignored their banter, his eyes sharp as he turned toward you and Seonghwa. "Get what we need and don’t get distracted. Keep it quick, and be back by sundown."

"Of course, Captain," you replied, giving Hongjoong a small but respectful nod.

Seonghwa gave Hongjoong a quick salute, and with that, the two of you made your way down the gangplank, stepping onto the bustling port. The air was filled with the scent of fresh fish, spices, and the sounds of merchants calling out their wares. The market was as lively as ever, a perfect mix of locals and travelers all haggling over goods.

As you moved through the bustling market with Seonghwa by your side, you couldn’t help but notice the way his hand hovered just above your hood, always careful to make sure it stayed securely in place. His attention to detail, the way he made sure you were safe and concealed, was endearing in its own way. It was as if the world could fall apart around him, but he would never let anything harm you—no matter how small the threat.

Your heart fluttered a little as he moved closer, his presence a calm anchor in the sea of noise and chaos around you. You could feel the slight brush of his fingers near your hood every now and then as he adjusted it, making sure it stayed tucked perfectly, hidden from the prying eyes of the market.

"Seonghwa," you began softly, your voice a little more than a whisper to avoid drawing attention. "You’re really careful, aren’t you?"

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It’s better this way. I don’t want anyone to notice you—especially not now."

There was something about the way he said it, so matter-of-factly, that made your chest tighten with a mix of appreciation and something deeper. It wasn’t just about keeping your identity a secret; it was about looking out for you, taking care of you without question.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words soft but meaningful. You weren’t sure why, but something about the way he was being so attentive made your heart race, the fluttering growing in intensity as you kept walking beside him.

Finally heading back, seonghwa pulled you aside - taking you a different route. Seonghwa gently pulled you to the side, his hand briefly grazing your arm as he steered you away from the main road. You shot him a curious glance, wondering why he was taking a different route back to the ship.

"Seonghwa?" you asked softly, your voice filled with a quiet question as you glanced back toward the main thoroughfare. "Why are we going this way?"

Seonghwa's smile was soft, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Taking the scenic route," he repeated, his voice a little more playful now. "Seems fitting, don't you think? A quiet walk before we get back to the chaos of the ship."

You couldn't help but smile back at him, the tension easing just a little as the humor in his tone reached you. "I suppose you’re right. It’s nice to have a moment of peace."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before he continued, guiding you along the less-traveled path. "We don’t always get those on board, do we? But sometimes, it’s good to slow down... even if only for a little while."

As you walked beside him, the atmosphere felt lighter, more relaxed. The market’s noise was a distant memory now, replaced by the sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone and the faint rustling of the wind. It was a rare, calm moment, one you found yourself savoring in his company.

"Are you always this careful with everyone?" you asked, teasing lightly but also genuinely curious.

Seonghwa chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. "Not always," he admitted with a shrug. "But I’ve learned to look out for the people who matter."

His words lingered in the air between you two, and for a moment, you both walked in silence, the unspoken connection between you growing with each step.

As you neared the ship again, you felt a little reluctant to let go of this calm moment. But Seonghwa’s steady presence beside you made the transition back to the chaos of the crew feel a little more manageable.

"Thank you, Seonghwa," you said again, your voice sincere. "For everything."

He glanced at you, his smile softening even more, and for a brief moment, you saw something deeper in his eyes, something that made your heart flutter again.

Your breath hitched as Seonghwa's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer. The world around you seemed to blur as his presence filled your senses. His proximity, his warmth—it all felt so overwhelming, and yet comforting in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Your eyes locked for a brief moment, your heart racing as you felt the heat between you grow. His gaze softened, but there was something intense in it, something that made the air between you both crackle with unspoken words. The space between your faces closed, your noses brushing lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You took a steadying breath, the pulse in your chest quickening as you made the decision. In a sudden movement, you pulled Seonghwa closer, closing the gap between you. His breath caught in his throat as your lips were mere inches away, the heat of your bodies pressing against each other. The world around you seemed to stop for a brief moment, leaving only the intensity of this connection.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, surprised by the sudden boldness, but there was no hesitation in his actions. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in even closer as if he’d been waiting for this moment, too.

The closeness between you two was undeniable now. Your hearts beat in sync, and as you tilted your head slightly, your lips finally brushed against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But it quickly deepened, the warmth of his lips, the pressure of his touch—everything about the moment was magnetic.

Seonghwa's hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as the kiss grew more intense, more urgent. You responded in kind, feeling the sparks of connection surge through your veins, the tension that had built over time finally being released in this single act.

The world faded away as the two of you were lost in the moment, the only things that mattered being the closeness, the intimacy, the feeling of finally crossing the line that had always been just out of reach.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and with hearts still racing, Seonghwa’s gaze was intense, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, voice hushed, "I've wanted that... for so long."

You swallowed, your fingers still lightly tracing his jaw. "Me too," you admitted quietly, your voice shaky but filled with the truth of the moment.

Seonghwa gave you a soft, crooked smile, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss you once more, but this time, slower, as if savoring every moment.

[endearng]

Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You’re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

[omagpies]

Recently saw your roleswap AU and I’m loving it! I have a few things I’m curious about:

1. So by my understanding Anya failed her flight certification 8 times and PE was cheap enough to be fine with that? Did she never pass? Makes sense, I’m just kinda clarifying lol

2. Does nurse!Curly also feel like he wants to try something different in his career like in canon? Did he also not have enough savings after PE went under? Did he go to nursing school or did he also fail his entrance exams?

3. What’s Daisuke’s story in this AU? Did his mom push him to go to trade school to become a mechanic? Did he do that on his own and his mom suggested working with PE?

4. It’s so interesting to me that Anya tried E-dating after getting back to earth and seemingly got rejected based on her appearance, poor girl :( but I’m kinda wondering about Curly’s perspective on this, did he have feelings for Anya while she was E-dating and just sucked it up for her?

5. I’m kinda curious about Curly and Anya’s relationship pre-crash, was it a little bit flirty like in canon? Did Anya try to approach Curly with what Jimmy was doing or was the blackmail powerful enough for her not to say a peep to anyone?

haha gonna answer all of these at once! but first here's something on 5 :)

she never passed the Official Legit certification but passed what counts for it in PE (so, certified only to fly PE vessels) and kind of sees it as her last chance to make it as a pilot. still hopes to get properly certified one day, working at PE to make the money for simulator hours and exam fees

curly actually went to a med school on a football scholarship but had to drop out about two or three years in because he started prioritising studies over practice and the money got pulled. used the money he had left to switch tracks and certify as a nurse. joined PE because space travel sounded fun but is pretty bored of it because he doesn't get to do much on a regular haul. he isn't quite as existential in this regard as canon curly because working in a people-oriented nurturing profession actually makes him feel useful, he just wishes he could be more useful ya kno? has enough savings to be able to rent a place and find a job at a hospital, so overall it all kinda works out for him if you don't count all the horrors

i think in this au daisuke's mother actually pushed him to intern as a mechanic a few years earlier than in canon, which is how he met swansea (pilot with engineering background) and got inspired enough to go into trade school. by the time the events of the au begin he is a certified mechanic though not with a lot of experience :"3

curly has had the biggest fattest crush on anya almost the entire time of knowing her (i feel like he kinda spawns in already in love with anya), so her E-dating phase is kinda rough on him (like, Very rough; mans full on wasting away from his heart getting broken in tiny ways a hundred times a day), but he is king of denying himself and putting others first so he does his best to be A Good And Supportive Roommate about it. he even tries to date other people too! but with not nearly as much gusto and it never goes far. he is too whipped

there was definitely Something. i'll expand on it a bit more in a later ask i got about captain anya, but the tldr is that she goes to great pains to Act Professional and curly is never in a million years going to confess anything. and then jimmy's arrival blows it all up and any kind of romance plummets down everyone's lists of priorities. and anya never tells curly anything -- this is her problem to deal with, and with him being jimmy's friend there is a tiny part of her that is afraid of not being believed even though she overall thinks he's a good guy :")

anya writes all kinds of things, but it's all fiction. she dabbles in poetry, but her two main points of focus in prose are a) long meandering stream of consciousness type of pieces that span generations and have very convoluted plots and interpersonal relations (think woolf's waves meets one hundred years of solitude), inspired largely by the time she had to lie there and do little more than drift in and out of delirium and think, and b) shameless smut that starts out as your run of the mill romance and suddenly changes genres halfway through (funny how life can just Change all at once huh). she never really gains a Massive audience but does have a considerable number of dedicated fans of both categories

(more roleswap au)

[cherrylovelycherry]

ratio angst ratio angst ratio angst x female reader pretty pretty please

.note. you asked for it and here it is! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat."

Fiancé

pairing. dr ratio x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, arguments, ratio being a jerk, some comfort, mentions of loss/miscarriage, more angst synopsis. you love your fiancé after all, right?… right? full menu

Of course another day you both are bickering...again.

He was reading some boring books about a topic he's interested in when he noticed you walking near him, and as usual his eyes are already trained on you, but he just continues reading, acting as if he's not even noticing you right at that moment.

Yet his mind is slowly shifting its attention towards you, and of course he can't deny how annoyed he feels because of the fact that you both just had another stupid argument, and because of his proud and fucking logical personality of his, he just couldn't bring himself to approach you or say anything after what he said to you.

And his stoic face just remains unreadable at that moment, continuing to read his book but his mind is now elsewhere and thinking of.. you. Or at least is what you want to think.

After taking a good look at you, he spoke.

"Did you needed something?"

The question came out in an indifferent tone to him, as if he doesn't even care and is just asking you just because he felt like it. His eyes still on the book.

He heard you let out a deep huff, which makes him internally roll his eyes.

He heard you mumbling something under your breath, which didn't go unnoticed by him, and he finally put down the book on his lap, lifting his gaze up so he can look at you now.

"What was that? Care to speak up?"

He questioned in a cold tone, his eyes not leaving yours, watching how your expression changed immediately as soon as his gaze is now on you. He patiently waited for your next words, and all that he can think about was how you two just had a trivial argument and here you are again, just.. bicker like you always do.

"Could you prepare me something to eat?" You dared to speak, raising your voice a little more.

He was always the one who cooked, but not because you don't know how to cook, or well, you know the basics, almost little, it was because you are afraid of fire.

It wasn't even a surprise to him on how you're acting right now.

He rolled his eyes at you.

"No."

He replied shortly, his tone blunt and cold. He then picked the book up and resumed his reading, acting as if he could care less about your presence right at the moment.

If you wanted to eat anything, you'd have to make it yourself. He was not going to give in that easily.

Your heart sank at his cold response.

You couldn't believe how unreasonable he was being.

"Please. I'm hungry." You tried again, not in a demanding voice, but in a pleading one, hoping that he would give in, but knowing him, he probably won't.

He let out a sigh, as if your plea had annoyed him more than it should. He closed the book and put it away from his lap, his eyes now looking up at you.

"If you're hungry, you should learn how to fix yourself something to eat." He said in a cold tone.

Your face fell at his response.

You just wanted a meal, just a little bit of kindness.

"But I don't know how."

You mumbled quietly, your head hanging low.

"It's time you learn. Or just starve. I don't care."

His tone was firm, showing no sign of sympathy or empathy towards you and your situation.

Your heart clenches at his words.

You could feel your heart tightening in your chest, feeling as if you can't breathe for a moment.

Collecting your little dignity left at the time, you went to another part of the department. Just come back a few minutes later.

You slowly approached where he was sitting, now checking his phone.

And just as you opened your mouth to say something, he spoke first.

"I'm busy,"

"Please, Veritas."

You said in a pleading voice, hoping that he'd at least show a little bit of mercy.

But of course, he just shook his head and looked at you with a cold, emotionless gaze.

"And I told you, no. Stop being so dependent."

"But-" You were about to protest.

He was being cold again.

"No buts. My answer is final." He retorted in a stern tone, interrupting you once again before you could even say anything more.

Of course he'd be like this.

Your heart sank. You felt the lump on your throat forming.

"You need to learn to be independent and stop depending on me for every damn thing. It's not my job to feed you. You're not a child anymore."

He said, his tone cold and firm.

You sighed again and left the living room, just to go to your shared room.

You thought for a few more minutes, it wasn't the best idea, but you were really hungry. So you grabbed your cell phone and opened the fast meals home app.

You were choosing a good choice of the big variety.

As you were on the bed, choosing, you heard footsteps approaching the room, and soon enough the door opened slowly.

There, you saw your boyfriend leaning against the frame, looking at you. He had a bored expression on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Damn, he even followed you to the room?

You hesitated for a moment, you didn't want him to question you right now.

But you knew you had no choice, he already found out.

"Ordering food," you muttered quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He was silently studying your face for a moment, his eyes scanning your expression and body language, and for some reasons, he looked a bit annoyed.

He approached the bed and skillfully removed your phone from your hands

"It's a bad way to spend our money," he said.

"Go, cook you something," he added, as he left the room, with your phone.

You felt your heart sink deeper again. That hurt.

He wasn't being caring, he didn't even care about you. He was being rude and cold as usual, just when you expected him to show a little understanding, even just a little bit.

You bit your lower lip.

Of course, he wasn't going to allow you to order food. You should've known better.

He knew you had a hard time being in the kitchen, and he still has the audacity to do this.

You sat there for a long time, before finally deciding to get up and go to the kitchen. You wanted to prove to him that you could do it, that you weren't incompetent.

You entered the kitchen with a heavy heart.

As you look around the kitchen, you were slightly overwhelmed with the task at hand. You were unsure of what to make, and you felt your stomach rumble with hunger.

You wanted to cry in frustration.

You opened the fridge, looking for anything that was easy enough for you to make. But the more time you spent looking, the more intimidated you felt.

As your eyes scanned the various ingredients, you let out a deep sigh. You had no idea what to do.

For once, you just wish he could've helped you, or at least not be such a cold jackass when you needed him to.

You took longer than you expected, even having to clean up the big mess you had done in the kitchen.

With a knot in your chest and throat, you walked to the table with the plate in your hand.

It was the most horrible thing you've ever seen and done.

It didn't even look like food, much less edible.

But you had no choice.

You sat at the table, while you ate what you had prepared.

You couldn't help but feel ridiculous.

Your blurred view made it almost impossible to see what was on the plate, while you occasionally felt your salty tears while taking bites of food.

Was this his way of punishing you for the fight you two had?

As you ate, your mind drifted to the moment you and him had argued.

You knew it was a stupid fight, over something silly as always. You both always argued over small things, and it always ended with him being cold and aloof, and you feeling frustrated and upset.

You wondered if you two would ever be able to go back to how you were in the beginning.

The days when he was sweeter and more affectionate, the days when arguments were rare, and the days when you felt truly loved and appreciated by him.

You were deep in your thoughts when you heard a phone ringing, bringing you back to reality.

It was coming from the living room, probably his.

But as you were about to get up, you heard your boyfriend walking towards the kitchen instead.

He was holding his phone in his hand, and he looked slightly surprised when he saw you.

He approached the table and sat in the chair opposite you.

He leaned his elbows on the table, still holding the phone, and he gave you a strange look.

The expression on his face was unreadable to you.

His reddish eyes scanned you, taking in how you looked.

You must look awful right now.

You are still crying, your eyes were probably red and swollen, and you were sure your face was a mess.

He didn't say anything at first. He just looked at you, his gaze flickering from your face to the plate in front of you.

You could tell he noticed the mess you had made in the kitchen, probably because you can't cook properly, a fact that he's well aware of.

He still wasn't saying anything.

His eyes still on you.

You felt his gaze, you could feel it burning through you.

Eventually, he broke the silence that was hanging in the air.

"You tried cooking, huh?" He said in a low, unreadable tone.

His tone was neutral, but you could sense a hint of something in it, but you couldn't quite tell if it was surprise, mocking, or something else.

You nodded in response, still trying to hold back your tears.

There was another moments of silence, as his eyes never left your face.

You were going to eat another bite of the raw, burnt food on your plate, but before you could, Ratio got up from his seat, grabbing your plate and fork and taking it to the kitchen.

When he did that, you didn't even look at him, you just looked at the table.

You were biting your lip so that the sobs wouldn't come out of your mouth.

'How humiliating,' you thought.

You stayed silently in your seat, hearing Ratio move around in the kitchen.

You were going to get up from the chair, it was already a few minutes and at least you wanted to go to your room.

But before you could get up from the table, he walked back into the kitchen and placed a plate of food in front of you.

You could smell the good food from the plate he had put in front of you.

His expression was not one of indifference as it often was, but there was something else.

You knew how to recognize that expression.

He didn't say anything, but the way he looked at you, it was different. There was a hint of guilt in his eyes. He looked almost hesitant.

He sat on the chair next to you.

"Eat, don't cry anymore," he said, while with one of his thumbs he wiped your wet cheek.

His gesture had surprised you.

You didn't expect him to be so sweet, especially since he had been so cold just a few moments earlier.

His hand lingered on your cheek for a few moments, but then he moved his hand away, still looking at you.

You nodded, swallowing a sob.

You loved your fiancé.

Fuck.

You two just had an argument in the middle of the street.

Why did this always happen?

It was a shameful thing to feel the glances of strangers walking near where you were.

You were both arguing loudly in the middle of the street, and passers-by couldn't help but look at you with surprise or annoyance.

They could probably feel the tension between you two.

Ratio had his usual expressionless expression on his face, while you were gesticulating and getting more and more frustrated.

"I don't understand why you can't just-!"

"I've told you time and time again-!"

You both were interrupting each other and not letting each other finish.

You could feel the eyes of the passers-by on you, some even stopped to watch the scene.

You were sure that you both looked like a couple of idiots fighting in the middle of the street.

"I don't care!"

You raised your voice and crossed your arms.

Ratio looked at you with irritation, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Stop being so stubborn."

He replied, his tone firm and cold.

"I'm not being stubborn, you just won't listen to me!"

You protested.

After one more exchange of words, you and he remained silent.

The cold air grazed your face.

The silence between you was deafening.

It felt like hours since either of you spoke, the only sound between you was the soft hum of the air.

Your heart was racing, you could hear your own breathing.

He was just staring directly at you, his unreadable expression.

You didn't want to say anything, but you were forced to do it, because you two still couldn't go home.

"We need to buy groceries," you said, without gesticulating the words too much.

Ratio clenched his jaw slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he started walking, passing by you without saying a word.

You sighed, following him closely.

The atmosphere between you remained tense and silent as you both walked to the nearby store.

The walk to the store was uncomfortable and silent.

You two just walk side by side, not saying anything or making eye contact.

But you felt his presence next to you.

He had his hands in his pockets, and he look straight ahead, his expression impassive.

As you two approached the store, you suddenly felt his hand brush against yours.

His touch was fleeting, and it was almost like it was an accident.

You were surprised by the touch, but you didn't pull away.

For a brief moment, his fingers gently grazed the back of your hand, and you felt a slight shiver run down your spine.

But as soon as it happened, he quickly withdrew his hand, putting it back in his pocket. He didn't look at you, his face completely impassive.

You felt a bit confused by his sudden gesture.

You glimpse at him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he had done it intentionally or if it had been an accident.

His expression was still the same.

You were so damn weak for him.

When you two got to the grocery store, you started grabbing some products.

You both were silent, still not speaking as you moved around the store.

You tried to focus on shopping and not on the tension between you two.

As you walked together down one of the aisles, he suddenly spoke.

"We're out of coffee mix," he said in a low, cold tone.

You looked at him, noticing the way his eyes glanced at you for a moment.

That was the first thing he'd said since the argument.

You thought for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, I know," you replied quietly.

There was a noticeable lack of warmth and affection in your tone.

The air between you was still tense, the argument still unresolved and both of you still upset with each other.

As you two walked past the coffee aisle, you noticed how his eyes shifted to the small coffee packets.

He looked at them for a moment, a flicker of thought in his eyes.

For your part, you took a brand of coffee that you liked before you did the action of placing it in the shopping cart.

However, before you could put the coffee mix into the cart, Ratio snatched it from your hand.

He look at the packaging of the item for a moment, his eyes scanning the label.

"This one is too sweet," he said, still holding the packet in his hand.

You couldn't help rolling your eyes.

"I like it," you said in a defiant tone.

He ignored your reply and put the packet back on the shelf.

Instead, he recorded another packet from the shelf that was next to it.

It was a darker, stronger-looking mix than the one you wanted.

"This one is better," he said bluntly.

You grabbed another packet of the shelf by putting it in the shopping cart.

"We agreed that we were going to take turns for the brand," you said, trying to close the issue.

Ratio glanced at the packet you had put in the cart, and he frowned.

He grabbed it from the cart and put it back on the shelf.

"If I hadn't made you remember that we're out of coffee, you wouldn't care," he said, placing the instant coffee brand he liked in the cart.

You felt a sense of irritation rise up in you.

Why couldn't he accept your option when it was your turn to choose?

"Veritas, it's my turn to choose," you said firmly. "You should respect that."

Ratio just looked at you with a cold expression, as he put another packet of that coffee mix in the cart.

"I'm not going to waste money on a bad product," he said bluntly.

'He's behaving like this just because of the argument?', you thought.

You were starting to become frustrated with the whole situation.

First the unresolved argument in the middle of the street, and now he was acting like an annoying child just because he didn't like your coffee choice.

"You're behaving like a child," you said, looking straight at him.

His eyes met yours, and there was a hint of irritation in his expression.

"I'm not the one being ridiculous right now," he replied, his tone cold.

You took your hand to the bridge of your nose, sighing exasperately.

"You know what? Fine, choose that one."

Then you put the brand of coffee you liked inside the cart. "I'm going to pay for this with my money," you said, as you closed the conversation.

You knew it was a waste to buy two different brands of coffee, but you weren't going to fall behind on this.

Ratio looked annoyed by your stubbornness, but he didn't say anything.

You both walked in silence down the aisle looking for the remaining items.

The tension between you two was still palpable, and the air felt thick.

You glimpse at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how he was avoiding looking at you directly.

He looked slightly irked, his jaw clenched slightly.

You felt a bit annoyed seeing his expression, but you wouldn't say anything about it.

He had started all this.

Once you two finished shopping, you left the grocery store, handing out the bags to load, as you had never been a fan of seeing him carry all the shopping bags.

To great luck you had, it had started to rain.

As you stepped out of the store, you immediately felt the cold, damp air on your skin.

You shivered slightly, feeling the raindrops hit your face.

You look up at the sky, the rain falling harder now.

'This is just great,' you thought, feeling a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.

Ratio was by your side, looking equally as annoyed.

"Just perfect," he muttered, his voice low.

You both had to go back to the store so you could buy a simple umbrella.

Having the umbrella already, you started walking next to him.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so obsessed with that coffee mix," you said, looking at him with a slight edge in your voice.

Ratio just gave you a look, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's not my fault you have such terrible taste in coffee," he replied.

You didn't answer, you just rolled your eyes.

You were going to keep walking, but your sight stopped in your shoes, your laces were untied, so you had to stop.

Once you knelt down so you could tie your shoes, you had to leave the shopping bags on the floor for a moment.

As you began to barely grab your shoe laces, you felt the rain start to wet you again.

You quickly raised your head, watching Ratio, who was carrying the umbrella, continue walking.

Oh, you really thought he would stop.

"Hey!" you called out to him.

Ratio seemed to realize that you had stopped and he stopped walking.

He turned around and looked at you, an impatient expression on his face.

"What," he said, his tone cold.

You gave him an annoyed look.

"You didn't notice that I had stopped," you replied.

Ratio rolled his eyes, an almost unnoticeable gesture, but you caught it.

"I thought you would catch up," he replied, his voice still cold.

"Well, I can't tie my shoes and run at the same time," You muttered.

With nothing else to add, he turned around and continued walking.

You haven't noticed that yet.

But once you've finished tying your shoe laces, you got up from the ground, grabbing the shopping bags you left on the floor.

You saw him much further away, almost a block away from where you were.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that Ratio leave you behind.

You stayed there for a while, watching him walk, not even turning a little bit towards where you had stayed.

It was you and the heavy rain falling on you.

What a ridiculous thing. Again.

At least it would have been a nice time if you just liked the rain, but you didn't. You didn't like the rain, especially because you got sick easily.

And he knew that perfectly well.

You swallowed hard, before you started walking, without running or rushing your way to reach it.

'Idiot,' you thought.

You walked behind at a distance, keeping your head down.

Your clothes were already very damp, and you felt cold shiver run through your body.

The rain continued to fall heavily, making you feel more and more uncomfortable.

You shouted your teeth in irritation, frustrated that he had just left you behind like that.

He knew how much you disliked the rain, and yet he didn't care about it.

And why? Because you two had, again, an argument.

By the time you got to the apartment you shared with him, it took you a little bit to put the key in the lock, as your hands were shaking a little bit because of the cold.

Once you got in, you saw the bags he had on the table.

Oh, of course, he had arrived before you.

You walked inside, feeling your clothes sticking to your skin, drenched in rain.

You felt cold and tired, but you were too annoyed to do anything about it.

As you placed the bags in the table, you heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Probably Ratio who was changing clothes.

You didn't want to think about him right now, you just wanted go take a hot shower.

You started taking off your clothes, discarding them on the floor.

You then entered the bathroom, closing the door, and turned on the hot water on the shower.

The hot water streamed down on your body, warming you.

You stood under the water for a long moment, trying to warm yourself up, when you felt the door of the bathroom open.

Ratio stepped into the bathroom silently, taking off his clothes.

He walked over to the shower, opening the door, the hot water spraying on both of you.

You felt him behind you, his presence close to yours.

None of you said anything for a long moment.

The only sound was the water falling on your skin and the floor of the shower.

He was so close to you, physically but also so far away from you mentally. His chest just a few inches away from your back.

He put his hands on your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your skin.

You felt a shiver run through your body, but not because of the cold.

His touch was slow, almost gentle.

But you moved, making his touch fade away.

Ratio noticed your movement, and he withdrew his hands from your waist.

You started washing your hair, ignoring the tension between you two.

He stayed there, just watching you, his gaze fixed on you.

You could feel his eyes on you as you washed your hair and body.

There was a tense moment of silence, as none of you spoke.

You didn't even look back at him, you didn't want to see his face.

The only sound was the water hitting your skin and the floor of the shower.

Until he spoke again.

"Do you want me to help you?" His voice came out calm, almost soft.

The question caught you a little bit on guard.

You didn't expect him to say that.

You remained still for a moment before answering.

"No, I can do it myself," you replied dryly.

You continued washing your hair, trying to ignore his presence behind you.

Ratio moved closer to you, standing right behind you.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his naked body just a few inches from yours.

He brought his hand to your hair, starting to massage the shampoo into your scalp.

His movements were gentle, almost tender.

Fuck. No matter how much you wanted to refuse his touch, you couldn't.

You were weak.

You felt his fingers massaging your scalp gently, and you involuntarily leaned back slightly into his touch.

This whole situation was messing with your head.

Here you were, showering with your boyfriend, with whom you had just had a pretty heated argument, and he was giving you such soft, tender touch.

You could almost forget your annoyance and anger at him. Almost.

Still, you stayed silent, not saying anything.

So as not to keep getting lost in his caresses, you finished washing yourself and left the shower.

Your feet wet the bathroom floor, as you walked into the bathtub, which you had filled with hot water.

You let yourself be immersed in the water, feeling your body relax.

Ratio finished washing his hair and body, and stepped out of the shower.

He turned off the water, recording a towel to dry himself.

He glanced at you in the bathtub, his eyes roaming over your water body.

He approached you.

He didn't say anything, but he looked at you, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"Can I go in too?" He dared to ask.

You looked at him, meeting his gaze.

His wet hair was falling over his green eyes, his face slightly flushed from the hot water.

You ended up nodding, not knowing where to move for, because you didn't know which side he wanted to sit on.

Ratio entered the tub quietly, moving to the opposite side of you.

You both stared at each other in silence, not knowing what to say.

There was a tension in the air, and the atmosphere felt so heavy.

You watched each other, your gazes locked together.

Then Ratio spoke.

"Come here" He said.

You flinched a little from his words, a bit surprised.

But his voice was gentle and almost tender, his eyes almost begging you to go near him.

You had tried to stay indifferent, but Ratio knew exactly what to say to get through to you.

Although at first you were reluctant, you ended up moving to his side of the bathtub.

You sat between his legs.

Ratio wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You felt his chest against your back.

His touch was light, almost reverently. His large hand moved over your stomach, tracing small circles over your skin.

He stayed silent, as if he were just enjoying the moment, having you in his arms.

You allowed yourself to lean on his chest, closing your eyes.

You sat there in silence, feeling Ratio's touch gently caress your stomach.

It was almost surreal, the way he was acting. As if the argument from before had been erased.

You began to relax into his arms, feeling the warm water of the tub, and his gentle caresses.

No words were spoken between you two, just the subtle sound of water.

His touch was almost soothing, and you felt the tension slowly slipping away.

You were definitely weak. And all because you loved your fiancé.

You had been patient, waiting every time he told you to wait.

There was something you had to tell him about, something that would change your life and his.

But as always, you had to be 'patient.'

You both were laying in the bed, in the dark silence of the night.

Ratio was asleep, while you laid there, wide awake.

You couldn't sleep, your mind filled with thoughts.

You had kept the information to yourself just because he had told you to wait patiently.

But you couldn't wait any longer. You had to tell him.

So you turned around, moving closer to him.

"Ratio." You called out his name in a low voice.

He stirred slightly at the sound of his name, his sleep disturbed.

He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the darkness.

Then he looked at you, his gaze a bit sleepy.

"What…?" He mumbled, his voice groggy with sleep.

You could tell he was a bit irritated at the fact that you had woken him up, but you tried to ignore his expression.

"I need to talk to you," you said, your voice low but firm.

Ratio groaned, but he sat up on the bed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" He said, clearly still tired.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on his face.

"No, it can't wait until tomorrow," you insisted.

Ratio sighed, clearly irritated that you were interrupting his sleep.

"Honey, yes, you can wait until tomorrow," he said, settling back in bed.

"I have to work in the morning,"

And yes, the same thing happened in the afternoon and at night. You even tried again after a few days, but the same thing happened.

But you assumed it was okay, because you tried to be understanding. You'd have time to tell him later.

You hated fighting, especially if it was about being inside the car.

There were always the grave silences.

It was horrible.

The whole situation was horrific in itself.

You remember the last time you argue, you were also shopping.

You were putting things inside the car, and once you and he finished doing it, Ratio headed to the driver's seat.

You were going to sit in the back seat, as you were too uncomfortable to sit in the co-pilot seat.

But just as you had opened the door, you closed it, because it was a call from work.

"Yes, I know, I left the reports in the first drawer… No, on the one on the left," you started talking, walking a few steps away from the car.

It took you almost five minutes to realize that the car was no longer behind you.

Actually, you wouldn't have noticed that he left, because you only did it when you turned around.

"Ah, yes, forgive me… right, okay, I'll call you in a while," you spoke, in a low voice, almost necessarily.

And you hung up the call, now looking at the empty place in the parking lot.

The car was gone. Ratio was gone.

You felt the heart stop in your chest.

You just stood there in the middle of the parking lot, alone.

You almost couldn't believe that he had done that yet again.

Leaving you behind after an argument. Again.

That day you had to walk home, not because it was dramatic, but because your bag had been left in the back seat of the car. You thought about ordering a taxi, but they still didn't deposit your payment.

When you got home, he wasn't there yet, which was strange to you.

After a few minutes, he walked into the apartment and seeing you on the couch, he came quickly and hugged you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice low.

Ratio held you tightly, burying his face in your hair.

You could feel his arms around you, holding you close, as if he was trying to keep you there.

What had really happened, is that when you closed the car door, he believed you were inside too. And because he was upset at the time, he didn't bother to see you through the rear-view mirror of the car.

And by the time he noticed and went back to the parking lot, you weren't there anymore.

You grabbed your seatbelt on you with one hand, touching and feeling the material under your fingertips.

"Why can't you be more responsible?"

He questioned.

His voice was cold and he looked annoyed, and there was no need to add that he was pissed.

"Can't I go to a party in peace without you lecturing me?"

You counterattacked him, returning the same hostility.

He let out a scoff, while making sure to concentrate on driving.

"You don't even know how to behave, or how to take care of yourself."

He shot you an accusatory glare.

You clenched your jaw tightly, barely containing your anger.

"I'm not a child, you know I can take care of myself just fine," you retorted through gritted teeth.

Ratio rolled his eyes, as if your statement was nothing but a foolish one.

"Please," he said, his tone mocking. "It's painfully obvious that you can't."

"Not like I need you to babysit me," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ratio shot you an annoyed look before refocusing his gaze on the road.

"Obviously you do, considering the ridiculous decisions you make," he retorted, his voice filled with irritation.

You bristled at his comment, feeling your anger rise up.

"I don't need your constant lectures to know how to make decisions. I can manage my life just fine without your approval."

Ratio huffed, clearly not accepting your defiance.

"Clearly not, since you insist on continuing to act childish and irresponsible."

You wanted to snap back and tell him to mind his own business, but you held your tongue.

The ride continued in an icy silence, the tension in the car almost palpable.

Ratio kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face set in a stern expression.

You could feel his annoyance radiating off of him, but you refused to back down.

"Can't you just lighten up for once?" You finally broke the silence, letting your frustration show.

Ratio didn't look at you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"I would if I didn't have to deal with your foolishness every damn day."

The words stung, and your anger flared up anew.

"Oh, so it's my fault that you're always in such a rotten mood, huh?" You said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ratio let out a scoff, his patience clearly thinning.

"Perhaps if you acted like a proper adult, I wouldn't be so stressed all the time."

"I am acting like a proper adult," You snapped back, your temper starting to get the better of you.

Ratio gritted his teeth, his annoyance becoming more evident.

"And what, you want a pat on the back for that?" You clenched your fists, your irritation reaching new levels.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I deserve a bit of credit instead of getting lectured all the time."

Ratio huffed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Credit for what, exactly? Reckless behavior and lacking common sense?"

"Shut up, Veritas," You let go, with the feelings blossoming.

At those words, his irritation transforming into anger.

The air in the car became tense as the silence grew heavy.

"Excuse me?" He finally spoke his voice dropping an octave.

You knew you had crossed a line.

"I said shut up," you repeated.

"I can take care of myself and I know how to behave like a damn adult,"

Ratio abruptly pulled the car into the side of the road, parking the vehicle.

He turned to you.

"You truly think you're so capable, don't you?"

You met his gaze directly.

"I know I am," you retorted, your voice cold.

His gaze turned away from yours, looking forward.

"If that so then," you heard him mutter. But before you could answer that, you spoke again, this time in a tone of voice that you could understand clearly.

"Get out of the car,"

Your eyes widened in shock.

"What?"

You were taken aback by his words, not expecting him to say such a thing.

Ratio repeated his command, his voice firm.

"I said get out of the car. Now."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing.

"But—"

"But nothing. Get out," Ratio cut you off, not allowing any further arguments.

His tone left no room for discussion.

"You can't be serious," you said, your voice shaking slightly.

But Ratio's expression was resolute.

"I am. Get out of the damn car."

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a wave of fear and anger mixed together.

The night air was cool, and the lack of streetlights made the deserted road feel even more isolated.

You instinctively brought a hand to your belly.

Then, you unbuckled your seatbelt with trembling hands.

Without saying a word, you opened the car door.

"Fine," you muttered, getting out of the car.

As you stood outside the vehicle, the cold wind hit you like a slap.

You looked back at Ratio, who was still seated inside, his expression unreadable.

"You said you can take care of yourself, right? So prove it." He said.

His words felt like a punch in the gut.

You looked around, noticing how deserted the area was.

You turned back to him, a mixture of anger and fear in your eyes.

"You can't seriously expect me to—" you started, but Ratio cut you off.

"You said you were an adult. Act like one."

And without waiting for an answer from you, he just started the engine, leaving you there.

The sound of the car engine growing fainter as it pulled away was like a dagger to your heart.

You were suddenly hit with the harsh realization of the situation.

You were alone in the middle of nowhere, with no other cars in sight.

The fear and anger you had felt earlier turned into a mix of anxiety and desperation.

You looked around, trying to figure out what to do next.

Again, your hand was directed at your belly.

You were scared for your safety.

Not to mention that the sudden, strong desire to cry was catching you.

You couldn't believe that Ratio had actually left you there, in the middle of nowhere.

You looked back at the road, silently hoping that Ratio would come back and tell you it was just a sick joke.

But deep down, you knew that wasn't the case.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly brushed them away, trying to hold them back.

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself.

While you were holding your hand in the same position as before, your thumb moved slightly, gently stroking the zone.

"It's okay," you said.

You didn't know how you did it, but you did, you were able to get to the apartment.

You had to walk a few blocks, because there was literally nobody in that area of the city.

That until you finally managed to order a taxi.

You're still somewhat anxious, because you really were lucky, those kinds of situations never go well.

You knocked on it and waited for a couple of seconds, until finally, the door opened, revealing Ratio with an irritated expression.

"You came back."

He said, his voice flat.

You didn't respond.

Instead, you pushed past him and entered the apartment, your heart was still racing.

You walked past him silently, but he closed the door behind you, then followed you.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner.

With quick steps, you went to the main bathroom.

You closed the door behind you, leaning on the door as you felt like you were going to fall to the ground and cry.

You leaned against the cold surface, trying to catch your breath and calm the beating of your chest.

Tears filled your eyes once again, but this time you didn't hold back.

You didn't make any noise, but the tears were falling silently and unstoppably. Your throat burned.

He had left you alone on a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere, and for what?

To provide a point?

To teach you a lesson?

It was unfair, it was cruel, and it was hurtful.

You couldn't hold it in any longer, the tension and fear releasing themselves in shaky sobs.

You wished you had someone to be with you, to hug you. To love you.

Not even just a few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

The knocking made you freeze for a moment, as the sound cut through the quiet of the bathroom.

Ratio's voice came through the door.

"Are you okay in there?"

You quickly wiped your tears, not wanting him to see and hear you so vulnerable, even if he was the cause.

"Yeah," you said through the door, your voice strained and hoarse.

There was a long pause, and you could sense him hesitating on the other side of the door.

Finally, he spoke again.

"Can I come in?"

"No," You said, without letting your voice betray you.

Another pause, and you waited for him to argue.

But he didn't.

Instead, you heard his sigh from behind the door.

"Okay. But please come out when you're ready. We need to talk."

Without another word, he walked away from the bathroom door.

You listened to his footsteps retreating to the living room.

After a few minutes, you splashed your face with cold water, taking a few deep breaths before exiting the bathroom.

You walked to the living room, where you found Ratio sitting on the couch, his expression unreadable.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for him to start talking.

Ratio gestured to the seat next to him, inviting you to sit down.

You hesitantly sat down next to him, keeping a distance.

The silence between you was charged with tension.

Ratio seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and every passing moment felt like an eternity.

Finally, he spoke, his voice serious.

"I just want to make it clear that I didn't mean any harm to you," he started.

You didn't respond, still feeling the hurt from his actions earlier.

Even though you were supposed to talk, you didn't want to.

You just wanted to rest, so you could relax a little bit.

Ratio could sense your lack of enthusiasm, but he pressed on.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

"Listen… I know that what I did was wrong, but-" he tried to speak, but you interrupted him with a look.

"No, no buts," you said, your voice firm.

"You left me there, on a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere. Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

Ratio wonced, clearly not expecting you to speak so directly.

You saw him open his mouth to say something else, but you spoke first.

"I want to sleep now," you said, so he understood you didn't want to have this conversation now.

Ratio's expression shifted.

But he didn't argue.

Instead, he nodded slowly, acknowledging your wish to end the conversation.

"Alright," he said softly.

You got up from the couch, walking to bedroom.

It might sound childish and all, but you didn't really want to share the bed with him.

So you grabbed your pillow and a blanket, as you left the bedroom.

You walked back into the living room, finding Ratio still sitting on the couch.

He watched as you made yourself a makeshift bed on the other couch with the pillow and blanket.

His eyes betrayed curiosity and confusion, but he didn't say anything.

You settled down on the makeshift bed, turning your back to him, signaling that you wanted to be alone.

Ratio stared at you for a moment longer, a mix of emotions etched on his face.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but ultimately, he simply sighed again and returned his gaze forward.

He didn't try to persuade you to return to the bedroom.

You heard his footsteps away from the living room, which you mentally thanked.

You tried to sleep, settling on the couch.

The events of the day replayed on a loop in your mind, especially Ratio leaving you there.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but you couldn't.

Is that really the man you'd marry?

At this point, you didn't know if you loved your fiancé as much as before.

Three weeks had passed, and the events of that night had created an invisible barrier between you and Ratio.

There was constant tension in the air, and you often felt like you were tip-toeing around each other's emotions.

You continued to sleep on the couch in the living room, refusing to return to the shared bedroom.

Ever since the fight, you had been acting a bit distant with him.

Ratio hadn't apologed directly for the incident, but you knew he was sorry.

However, you could also see he didn't really know how to deal with the situation, so he mostly tried to avoid discussing it.

So Ratio seemed to be trying to mend things, offering small gestures such as bringing you coffee or suggesting you watch a movie together.

But you were still hurt, most of the time you flatly denies or just not taking the things he brought you.

Today, you were sitting on the couch, reading a book.

Ratio was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for both of you.

You could hear him moving around, the sounds of pots and pans clanking together.

It was a Saturday night, and neither of you had work tomorrow.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Ratio walked into the living room, holding two plates of food.

He placed one in front of you, while he sat down in the chair next to the couch.

Both of you started to eat in silence.

The lack of conversation was becoming awkward. The only sounds were the clinking of forks against the plates.

Ratio tried to start a conversation, clearing his throat.

"How was the book you're reading?" He asked, attempting to engage you.

You looked up from your plate, making eye contact with him for the first time that evening.

"It's… fine," you responded, keeping your voice neutral.

Ratio nodded, struggling to find something else to say.

The silence returned, and the air thickened with tension.

Ratio tried once more.

"Listen… I've been thinking a lot about what happened and-"

You cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Don't," you said, your voice firm.

Ratio blinked, surprised at your interruption.

"But-"

"I said don't," you repeated, looking back down at your plate.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Ratio closed his mouth, clearly taken aback by your response.

He set his fork down, and you could see the frustration in his expression.

"How long are you going to keep ignoring the issue?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes.

You knew where he was going with this conversation.

"…You're not even giving me a chance to explain," Ratio said, his frustration growing.

"Yeah, because I don't want to hear it," you retorted, your tone becoming harsher.

"You're being completely unfair, you know that?" He said, his voice rising.

"You're just acting like a goddamn child."

"How long are you gonna keep holding this over my head?" You said.

You dropped the fork on the plate half empty.

Ratio let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you really want to carry this resentment forever?"

He leaned back in his chair, looking straight at you. "I'm sorry for what happened, okay? I already said it. What more do you want from me?"

You clenched your jaw, irritation building up inside of you.

"You're sorry?" You repeated back in a mocking tone.

Ratio slammed his own plate down on the coffee table, clearly losing his temper.

"I'm trying to fix this, but you won't even give me a chance!"

"Fix this?" You shot back, leaning forward on the couch. "You're the one who screwed up in the first place!"

"I know that," Ratio said through gritted teeth.

"And I apologized, didn't I?"

You stood up from the couch, your body filled with frustration.

"A very nice behavior of yours to be sorry!," you stated.

Ratio stood up from his chair too, his hands clenching into fists.

"Fine, I'll say it again. I'm sorry for what I did."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"I shouldn't have left you there alone. It was wrong of me. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry, and I took it out on you."

You stared at him.

"Oh, then you never think clearly?" You asked, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

"I said I was sorry!" Ratio exclaimed, his voice rising again.

"What more do you want from me? For me to grovel at your feet?"

You could see the anger and frustration in his eyes.

"Maybe some actual remorse and not just hollow apologies would be nice," you shot back.

Ratio's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to you.

"You know what? I tried to be civil about this, but you're just acting like a spoiled brat. You're constantly playing the victim and never accepting any responsibility for your own actions."

You flinched at his words, feeling a pang of hurt in your chest.

"My own actions?" You echoed, your voice wavering.

"You're the one who put me in that situation in the first place. I was scared half to death, wondering if I was left to die there. And now, you have the audacity to pin all the blame on me?" Without even realizing it, you had started shouting.

You also approached him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" You spit, with one finger you pushed his chest as you spoke.

Ratio stumbled back a little, clearly not expecting your physical response.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it tightly. His grip was firm and bruising.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, or I-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes locking with yours.

The tension in the room was palpable.

You didn't back down, staring back at him defiantly.

You moved your arm backwards, causing it to release your wrist.

"You don't give a lot of fear," you let go.

"All the time, every time we fight, you didn't fail once," you started, as you held the wrist you'd grabbed before.

"You were always looking for something to make me feel bad. Were you punishing me? Or what the fuck was all that, Veritas?"

Ratio took a step back, his anger now mixed with shock at your words.

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, his voice taking on a bitter tone. "You thought I was punishing you? That I was trying to make you feel bad?"

You made a grimace.

"Oh, do you want me to remind you ones of the latest?" You asked, without waiting for an answer from him.

"You leave me in the parking lot, you refuse to make me food when you know I can't, I can never tell you something important, you threw me out of the car in the middle of nowhere," you continued.

"And what a coincidence, right? It's always after we argue!"

Ratio's expression darkened as you listed off the incidents.

He seemed to be struggling with his own anger and trying to find the right words.

"Those were all mistakes, accidents," he said through gritted teeth.

"You make it sound like I did it on purpose."

You laughed bitterly.

"Accident?" You repeated, shaking your head.

"Then you're just careless, that's it? You just keep making these accidents, and I'm supposed to pretend it's all fine?"

Ratio winced, clearly feeling the weight of your words.

"I didn't say it was fine," he replied defensively.

You could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Yes, I made mistakes, and I hurt you. But I'm trying to apologize and fix things, and you're just wallowing in self-pity and refusing to give me a chance!"

You were taken aback by his tone.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Self-pity?" You repeated, feeling a sense of anger boiling within you.

"You're the one who's in denial here! You keep pretending like it's all my fault."

You stepped closer to him, your voice raising.

"You're trying to shift the blame on me instead of acknowledging your own actions!"

You were going to continue, but you felt something strange in your belly, which made you remember.

"I was so excited to tell you something I imagined would change our lives!" You started.

"And what did you say? 'No, not now, tomorrow'"

"You had me with that for weeks!"

Ratio's eyes widened at your words, his jaw clenched tightly.

"So that's what this is about?" He retorted, his voice bitter. "You got mad at me just because I didn't want to talk right that moment?"

He took a step closer to you, his figure towering over you.

"I was tired and stressed, and you were pestering me with something so trivial."

You felt a pang of hurt hearing him call your news trivial.

"Trivial?!!" You exclaimed, your eyes brimming with tears.

"I didn't think you'd be this self-centered, Veritas," You said, your voice wavering.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"I can't believe I'm going to marry such a person,"

Ratio's expression flickered for a moment.

"You're seriously questioning our relationship because of these stupid fights?" He said, his voice rising in frustration. "Are you that eager to give up on us?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking at you with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Seeing that you didn't respond, he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff.

"If that's what you want, go ahead!"

"I don't want to marry someone like you either," Now he was talking to try to defend his frustrating desire to cry that he had.

His words stung like a blade.

"Fine then!" you said, your voice shaking.

You held back tears, determined to maintain your composure.

"Maybe we shouldn't get—"

"Maybe we shouldn't get married at all?"

Ratio finished your sentence, his voice trembling slightly.

He clenched his jaw, trying to hide the turmoil of emotions inside him.

"Go on then," he said, "Say it."

You took a deep breath, trying to control the lump in your throat.

The room was filled with the weight of your words, and a suffocating silence fell between you two.

"Maybe we shouldn't—" You repeated it, but before you could complete the phrase, a stabbing pain was centered on your belly.

You immediately took your hand there, letting out a slight scream.

Ratio immediately reacted to your cry.

He was started by the sound you made, and any remaining anger in his eyes faded to concern.

You saw him coming up and talking to you, but you didn't hear him.

With fear and pain you brought your eyes down feeling blood go through your legs.

Now the tears that hadn't fallen before, were deliberately starting to fall down your face.

You couldn't even tell him that you were pregnant, because probably after this, you're no longer pregnant.

Ratio's eyes widened in shock and horror as he realized the situation.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you, guiding you to sit on the couch.

Panic and fear overwhelmed him as he saw the blood staining your trousers and the tears streaming down your face.

His hands trembled as he took out his phone, dialing a number with shaky fingers.

You looked up for a moment, it was as if your ears had been covered for a moment.

At any other moment you could have made fun of him, because after all he was entering the panic, when you were sure that he had witnessed many cases like this, because after all, he was a doctor.

You saw him talking on the phone as he started running around the apartment, grabbing the car keys.

You wish you could have laughed at that moment.

Ratio was now in a state of complete panic, but he had to maintain some composure to take care of you.

He ended the call with the emergency services, quickly returning to your side.

His hands trembled as he tried to reassure you, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated again and again, trying to calm both you and himself. After all, those were the only words you came to understand at that blurry moment.

You didn't know what you would do now, you didn't know what he would do now.

The only thing you knew at the time was that after this, you would hate your fiancé.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify or feed into ai

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | six.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 6.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora spends time with her uncle mingi, first date <33, yunho opens up about his parents to oc, holding hands, good conversations & just a bunch of cute simp shit, goodnight kisses 🥰, i swear things will get a lil spicier next chap lmao

yunho: goodmorning. 😊

This morning had been one of those mornings. You had gotten up a little later than usual, feeling tired from the exhausting week. On top of that, you turned down Yunho's offer to bring you to work so that you wouldn't have to take the bus over; afraid you'd be asking for too much since he was gonna be driving around later tonight. Had you known the bus would be running late, you might've taken him up on it. But, with it being Friday, you were just excited to get your day over with so that you could hang out with Yunho one-on-one.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was busy as soon as you walked in this morning. A blessing because the day would breeze on by. A curse because you didn't even get a chance to respond to Yunho's cute lil text before jumping right into your task list. Until, your desktop computer decided to be stubborn and stop working properly— setting you behind even more than you already were due to the commute.

you: hi, goodmorning ☺️

you: i'm sorry for the late response! i'm having quite the morning. i have so much to do, but my desktop isn't working now. i feel so incomplet and useless. 😭

yunho: it's okay! not like i thought you forgot about me or anything .. 🥲

you: lol sorry, never!

yunho: wdym it's not working?

you: it won't stay on. keeps going on power save mode even though my settings are adjusted to never go on power save mode.

yunho: interesting. where do you sit in the peds hospital again?

you: 4th floor, M103.

yunho: i'll be over in a sec.

you: yunho?? you don't even support our unit 😭

yunho: and? lol. i have time. brb!

"What?" You mutter to yourself as you set your phone down, a little worried about Yunho getting in trouble or pushing off his work to help you. You shrug it off, scribbling in your planner and working through emails on your laptop until Yunho swings by.

Which, didn't take him long post-reply. He was at your cubicle about 15 minutes later.

"Hey." Yunho says softly.

"Hi." You shyly laugh. "How did you even get in here?"

"IT has access everywhere, believe it or not." He smiles before pointing at your desktop. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go for it." He pulls up an empty office chair nearby and drags it over to your desk, sitting comfortably as he presses the power button. He presses it a few times and clicks away at your mouse until the screen pops up. 

"Hm." He hums. "Took awhile."

"It's gonna shut down on you."

"Is that what's been happening?"

"Mhm. Just now actually. When I get it back up and running, it'll let me work for a few minutes before it shuts off and goes into power mode randomly." He's click-clacking away on the keyboard, forehead tightly knit as he eventually rests his elbow on the desk— hand hovering over his mouth, with the other on the mouse.

"How old is your computer?"

"I don't know, maybe 8-10 years old? It was passed down from the previous project manager when I stepped into her role."

"Yikes." He laughs. "I'll try a few things, but might also be a good time to consider getting a new one." He starts pulling up the terminal and plugging in some code— language you definitely don't understand.

"Yeah, I know."

"You actively push data or other work to the cloud, right? So you have a backup and can pull it up anywhere?"

"Mhm."

"Good." He gives you a small smirk. "Then, getting a replacement wouldn't be so bad. You deserve it." You laugh.

"Hope the department thinks so."

"I mean, you do need a working computer to get your things done." He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, slightly slumped in his position. "I just plugged in a code to mimic the movement of your mouse so the computer thinks something is always happening. If you look closely at the pointer, you can see it twitching a bit." You look up close on the screen and manage to see what he's talking about.

"Woah. Okay, genius."

"Not even." He laughs. "If you don't mind me being in your space for a little longer, I wanna see if this keeps your computer awake."

"As long as it isn't taking up unnecessary time and making you behind."

"Never." He smiles at you. "So."

"So." You mimic him. "Where are you taking me later?"

"For me to know and you to find out." You snort.

"Clever. Am I dressed enough for the occasion?" Yunho eyes your outfit, running a finger across his bottom lip while he smirks at you. 

"Yeah, you look good. You always do." You playfully push him on the bicep, making him laugh. "What? I can't be honest?"

"Hey— oh? Oops. Hi Yunho." Noeul gives you a look before slowly walking away. 

"Hey Noeul." 

"I'll come back later." She mouths out as Yunho gives off a small chuckle. Suddenly, he shifts his attention back to your computer when he notices the screen go black, and he's back to sitting up again. 

"Damn." He tries fiddling with the mouse and keyboard again. "Guess that didn't work. I think this is a hardware issue now, but .." He turns to you with the same smirk he was sporting earlier when he was spitting out those compliments. "Since your computer is pretty old, I can't say it won't act up again if you get this serviced."

"So, you're saying a new computer is definitely the way to go." He nods.

"You deserve it." He stands as he reminds you. "You should think about getting a 38" monitor instead of having two. It's basically the equivalent and helps with productivity."

"What are some good ones?"

"I can send you some recs in a bit. I'm sorry you'll have to work from your laptop for now. But, whatever you order, I can help make sure it gets to you ASAP and I'll help set it up."

"Yunho." You slightly pout as he's slowly walking out of your cubicle.

"No but's. I got you." He looks down at his watch. "Anyway, gotta head back."

"See, don't tell me you have tons of stuff to catch up on now because of me?"

"I doooon't." He almost whines with a small laugh. He totally does. He's actually kinda swamped, but he made it over anyway because seeing you is nice. "See you later?" You nod and giggle. "I'll text you when I'm all wrapped up on my end."

"Okay. Thank you again."

"No worries." He playfully sends you a wink before walking off and out of the office area. Noeul finally comes creeping up to your cubicle, squealing at a low tone.

"Stop, he's so into you."

"Don't start." You bite onto your bottom lip as you continue to keep your eyes glued onto the tiny laptop screen.

"Where is he taking you? Did he say anything?"

"Nope. I am completely in the dark."

"Those are the best kinda dates. He's gonna take good care of you."

"I just wanna get out of here." You whine as your place your head down on your desk for a few minutes.

"You will! And the wait will be worth it!" You look up at her and let out a small sigh, nodding your head.

"You're right. Let me tackle all of this so I can get outta here sooner than later."

"And hang out with your man, yes!" She leans against your desk. "By the way, what'd he say about your computer?"

"Oh, this thing is done with. I need a new one. I'm just waiting for Yunho to send me some recs."

"Been telling you that."

"Well, it kept me going for some time." You pat the top of the monitor screen. "It was nice while it lasted."

"I love this for you, you know that? Upgrading your computer, your love life. This era is cute." You chuckle and shake your head.

"Go. I gotta get back to work." You push her along, making her giggle at how obviously flustered you are over the topic.

yunho: some recs for the boss lady!

You see Yunho's Slack message come in, along with links from the IT catalog. 

yunho: this CPU should do you good, along with the 38". 😮‍💨

you: haha, thank you. 😊 i'll place my order right now!

yunho: can you send me your ticket number so i can keep an eye on it?

you: maybe....

yunho: ☹️☹️☹️☹️

you: you have too much other work to worry about!

yunho: including your ticket, yes!

you: you're unbelievable. 😂

yunho: you can always opt out for tonight (ouch) ..... 😖

you: never! lol. i'm excited actually. ☺️

yunho: i am, too. 

You smile to yourself during the brief pause in between messages, unsure how to respond to Yunho without sounding like you're doing too much or saying something crazy. But, the Slack notification goes off again—

yunho: okay, i actually gtg and help jihoon with something.

yunho: seriously send me your ticket number after you're done, pls!

Pause.

yunho: can't wait to spend time with you, y/n.

And all that overthinking goes straight out the window.

you: same. 😌

Seora had a long day at school— her day filled with a bunch of tests and pop quizzes, damn near dragging herself out of the classroom and into the gym afterward. She happily talks with her friends as they change into their practice gear, joking around and being the typical girls they are as they get out onto the floor with their water bottles. After equal wins and losses, the coach decides to continue running and improving plays to push the team forward to the playoffs and hopefully, a championship win. 

When practice wraps up, Seora grabs her things and finds her other favorite uncle talking to some of the parents outside of the gym; sweat still on her face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. When his eyes finally land on hers, he gives Seora's hair a good ruffle before taking her bags from her.

"Ace!"

"Uncle Mangi!" She copies his tone and laughs.

"How was practice?"

"Tiring. I'm pooped. I can barely feel my legs today."

"Working hard, atta girl. On our way to the WNBA." He tosses her bags in the backseat before hopping in. "Hope you don't mind, I gotta stop at the grocery store really quickly for our dinner."

"Only if I can grab some snacks."

"Course you can. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner, though. I'm gonna make some galbijjim."

"Yum! One of my faves."

"Exactly." He laughs. "How was school today?"

"The usual. Nothing too special."

"Nothing too special? Nothing happened at all?"

"Nope. Too many tests and pop-quizzes. I did get an A on my math test, though."

"That's something." She nods as she looks out the window.

"So, my dad's got another team dinner?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"Impossible." 

"They've been working really hard on a lot of different things across the hospital lately. Helps relieve stress, I guess." One thing about Mingi is that he will never out Yunho the way Seonghwa unintentionally does. If Yunho's got a team dinner, Mingi will stick to the story down to the T. Maybe even throw in his own details and dramatics to make it more believable.

"He barely used to have team dinners."

"Well, maybe their goal was to have more!"

"Are you hiding something, Uncle Mangi? Cause Uncle Hwa accidentally spilled the beans last time and said dad was on a date."

"Why would your Uncle Hwa do that? Should I fight him?" Seora laughs and shakes her head. "He wasn't on a date."

"Uncle Mangi." He looks at her.

"Mhm?"

"Lying is bad."

"I'm not lying!" She continues to squint her eyes at him before finally giving up her case and settling back into the seat. 

"Fine. What about you then, Uncle Mangi? What's new? How was your trip to Japan?"

"Nothing much. But, it was good. Nice to be in different sceneries from time to time."

"Dad keeps saying we'll tag along one day, but we haven't yet. I wanna go soon."

"I'll let him know, don't worry."

"They must have soooo much cute stuff. Don't they?"

"Lots." Mingi pulls up to the grocery store, driving into a spot near the entrance. "You'd definitely love it there."

"Where else have you been, Uncle Mangi?" She follows alongside of her towering uncle while he grabs a cart and heads into the store.

"Everywhere and nowhere all at the same time." She laughs.

"Seriously."

"One place I'll always remember is Switzerland. It's beautiful there. Probably one of my top places I've been to."

"I'm sure. I've only seen it in books, but it looks really pretty."

"It is. Those textbook pics definitely don't do it enough justice." Mingi sorts through the meat packages while Seora quickly wanders off into an aisle to grab her favorite chips and cookies. She drops it into the cart, with Mingi barely noticing.

"I have a random question for you."

"Try me."

"Do you think it's better to lock yourself up in a grocery store like this during a zombie apocalypse or keep it moving?"

"Well." Mingi continues to slowly walk down the aisles, making sure he doesn't miss any ingredients on his mental grocery list needed for tonight's dinner. "I'd say keep it moving."

"Why? You'd have everything in here."

"That's if no one raids the store, which would be impossible at that time. Plus, it can only keep you safe for so long before zombies find their way in or another group comes around. You could quite literally die before you even have a chance to try and survive."

"You'd have to take a break at some point though, right?"

"You could, but always best to keep it moving, ace. Never leave a trail for people."

"Okay, touché."

"Cereal first or milk first?" Mingi suddenly asks as they go through the cereal section.

"Cereal."

"What? No. Did your dad teach you that?"

"What kind of planet are you living on? Isn't that how it normally is?" Mingi stops the cart and looks at her. 

"Warm or cold milk then?"

"For cereal?" Mingi nods. "Cold?!"

"You and your weird ass dad." Seora laughs loudly. "Did anybody want a child? Cause this one is not mine—" Seora pinches her uncle's bicep, causing him to yelp as they push through the remaining aisles.

"You soggy cereal lover." Seora points out.

"That's literally the best way to have it."

"Ew, you're like eating mushed up cardboard." Mingi sighs.

"You're very lucky I love you and that your dad is my bestfriend or else I would've blocked him."

"You're so dramatic." She throws more snacks into the cart just as they're about to head to the registers.

"Any more snacks or you're good?"

"I'm good! I'm excited for dinner." Mingi laughs.

"I am, too. Too bad I gotta cook it first."

"You're a great cook, Uncle Mangi. I always enjoy the food you make." She tugs on his sleeve.

"I do try my best." She helps her uncle load the groceries onto the belt, pulling the cart towards the end to help bag up their things and throw it back in. Mingi taps his card to the reader before helping Seora with the heavier bags. Once they've gathered all their things, Mingi pushes the cart over to the car, loading it up in his trunk while Seora plops into the front seat. "Ready to head home?"

"Yeah, dying to shake a shower." Mingi starts up the car and begins the journey home.

"Yeah, you need it." He teases, causing Seora to lightly punch him on the arm.

"You're mean!"

"Kidding!" He laughs. "So, what's on the agenda tonight? We eat, you do homework. Watch some shows? Talk a walk around the neighborhood?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat. I kinda have a bit of homework so I dunno about that walk. Plus, I'm pretty sore already."

"Okay, we'll play it by ear then." On the way home, Seora continues to tell Mingi about the staycation her father took her on and the new dog café they visited. She talks to him about her friends and how one of her friends started having a crush on one of the boys in their class. Mingi playfully gasps before lecturing her about boys and how icky they can be [coming from an honest heart]. But Seora laughs it off and tells her uncle that she's not really worried about that stuff.

All Mingi can say in response is 'you better not be.'

When the two finally get home, Mingi immediately sets himself up in the kitchen to get dinner going, while Seora throws her backpack down in the living room and heads straight to the shower. She takes a good, long shower before throwing on her pajamas and brushing through her wet hair. She sits on the living room floor and gets going with her homework while waiting for her uncle to finish cooking dinner.

Meanwhile, Yunho makes his way over to the peds hospital— happily stepping into the elevator to make his way back up to your office. When he gets there, he realizes most people have already clocked out and left for the day, only leaving you and a select few heads working away in the cubicles.

"Hey. Ready?" You smile as you look up at Yunho, sending one last meeting invite for next week before closing down your apps and shutting off your laptop.

"Yeah! I thought you were gonna text me so I could meet you halfway."

"Um, no." Yunho laughs. "I would much rather come get you so we can walk to the car together." 

"That's sweet." You throw on your coat and slide the bag strap over your shoulder. "So, how was the rest of your day?"

"Good. Not too crazy, at least."

"Did the offers go out to the candidates you were planning on hiring?"

"Oh, yeah! They actually signed earlier this week and they'll be starting next week. They were able to get the background checks cleared out in time."

"Aw, that's awesome! You guys will finally get help." 

"Yeah. It'll be busy for awhile getting them onboarded and trained."

"Yunho's gonna go MIA."

"Yunho is not gonna go MIA." He laughs. 

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, of course." He chuckles. "I'll always make time."

"You say that now."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on." He pinches your cheeks. "Don't trip." You smile feeling his warm touch against your skin. "Well, I didn't think it'd be so cold this evening. Are you okay with your coat and all? Is it enough?"

"It is."

"Okay, well just let me know. We'll be inside for the most part, but I want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you." You continue to walk alongside of Yunho until you get to his car. You give him the ins and outs of your day besides the whole computer issue that he tried to rescue you from while he grabs your bags and gently sets it in the trunk of his BMW and pops the door open for you. When you slide in and get comfortable, you notice how spotless his car is and how it smells like a hint of his cologne, along with laundry detergent and the fresh car smell. There are a few colorful hair ties lining the bottom of one of the cupholders, along with a hoodie in the backseat and a basketball. Yunho laughs and apologizes for Seora's mess— he also hasn't gotten a chance to bring in her things simply because he doesn't think much of it.

It almost feels like Seora is with him one way or another and he finds comfort in that.

On the drive over to dinner, he asks a bit about what other days look like for you and if you anticipate other big projects to come your way. You talk about a new project that was already mentioned to you by your manager, which involves remodeling one of the levels to a study/meeting area. You also tell Yunho it isn't a high priority, but you've already started the conversation with some of the facilities coordinators that can help rope in the appropriate vendors for certain tasks.

He transitions by telling you a few of the little projects he's been working on with his team, along with figuring out how to upgrade systems and all that jazz. You find that Yunho and his team are constantly working to support so many different departments, and it amazes you how well Yunho is able to delegate and keep himself afloat. You ask if he's ever had to work late because of really urgent issues and he says he's only had to do it once or twice— most can typically wait until the morning.

"Okay." He says, pulling into a tight, narrow street to start looking for parking. "We're here."

"I have no idea where we're at."

"Oh." Yunho laughs. "That's good then. More of a surprise for you. But, please keep your expectations down cause I didn't do much."

"Stop. Don't say things like that. I'll love it either way." Yunho smiles as he turns another corner and finds a spot right away. He parks flawlessly next to the curb, shutting off his car before turning back to you. 

"Ready?" You nod quietly, watching as Yunho hops out and does a light jog over to open the door for you. You give him a smile and tug on your coat while Yunho locks his door and leads the way next to you, hand on the small of your back. The walk isn't too far, the restaurant being down on the opposite end of the street, across the block. To your surprise, Yunho brings you to one of the new conveyor belt sushi restaurants. He greets the host and he immediately takes you back to a little booth near the belt. It's snug enough to fit two people. 

"I'm excited." You look at Yunho and he laughs.

"Same, I could eat. You like sushi, right? Please tell me I didn't fuck up." He looks concerned for a moment.

"No, no. I love sushi. I actually haven't had it in so long." You rearrange your set up so you can eat comfortably, the waiter taking your order for drinks. You both ask for water, but before the waiter can walk off, Yunho suddenly asks for two glasses of hot sake. 

"Thank you." He says, giving the waiter a curt nod.

"Sake?"

"Our little celebration for getting through the week."

"Wow, okay. Touché. I can get behind that." You look at him. "My birthday's coming up. You should come out with Mingi and Seonghwa. We're heading out to the club." You pause before shaking your head. "Or, actually, I'm being forced to go to the club to celebrate."

"Forced, hm?" He laughs. "That sounds fun, though. Send me the details. We'll definitely try to celebrate with you."

"Might be fun. We can be a fun group of people."

"Yeah?" Yunho likes that, you're down for things and he can tell you go with the flow. He likes someone who can just have fun with him. Someone who can just be with him; it wouldn't matter where they go or where their relationship takes them.

"Mhm. And I can tell you guys are fun." You laugh. "Seora must love having you as her dad."

"I hope so." Yunho laughs along. "By the way, feel free to start digging in." He gestures towards the moving conveyor belt and you happily start exploring your options as they come— taking a fresh plate of salmon nigiri to start off. The waiter quickly comes back with two glasses of hot sake, making Yunho smirk at you. He sets his chopsticks down and slides your glass over, raising his while you take yours. "Cheers? For getting through the week."

"Cheers!" You say cheerfully, tapping your glass against his before taking some of the hot sake down your throat. It burns, but the heat brings more warmth to your body on this cold evening. "Speaking of Seora, where is she right now now?" You drink a bit more before taking another plate off the belt.

"Spending time with her Uncle Mingi."

"That's cute." Yunho grabs a few plates and sets them aside while he decides which one he'll tackle first.

"She had practice and I had him go pick her up. I think they were heading to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner before heading home last time he texted me."

"What did you tell her?"

"Mm." He hums. "I hope you don't take it personally or anything, but I told her it was a team dinner."

"No, of course not."

"I just, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "It's just easier to go with that."

"I believe it." The both of you continue to eat away at the sushi, small, empty plates piling up on the side of the table. Small conversations continue about day-to-day life; you and your friends, what you've been doing for yourself lately. Suddenly, you dwell on the fact that you don't know much about Yunho besides his day-to-day life with Seora and work. You know about his friends, his coworkers. But, you don't know anything deeper about his personal life.

His parents.

You didn't wanna be nosy and pry, but you wondered why his parents weren't the ones watching Seora. 

Was it too much of you to ask?

Was this considered a real date if you two weren't trying to get to know each other? What were the boundaries?

"Yunho?"

"What's up?"

"Can I ask you something more personal?"

"Anything."

"I hope I'm not crossing boundaries here, but what about your parents? How come they don't watch Seora?"

"You're not crossing any boundaries." Yunho reassures you, but shakes his head before dipping into his next plate of sushi. "Uh, it's complicated. Things kinda just fell apart when Eunha passed." You slowly nod. "When my parents found out Eunha was pregnant, they didn't want us to continue with the pregnancy cause we were, what? 20 years old when we found out? Still in the midst of college. But, that's not what we wanted. They almost got to Eunha but we pushed through in the end and we had Seora. It was really hard for a long, long time, but Seora was worth every bit of it. My parents obviously didn't like the fact that we went against their wishes, so they kept their distance. It's been that way ever since, even when Eunha passed. I think it got worst, actually. Plus, I never had the best relationship with them from the get-go. They only see Seora once in a blue moon. They're the grandparents that just send the occasional bouts of money, birthday and holidays cards. Seora always wonders about them, but I can never give her an answer as to why her grandparents aren't around." 

"I'm sorry, Yunho."

"Don't be sorry." Yunho smiles a bit.

"W-what about Eunha's parents?" You wanna ask about Eunha too, but you know this isn't the time.

"Uh, they're the same. They—" He pauses. "They cut off ties when she passed because it was too hard for them."

"Oh. Yunho." You say sympathetically, feeling incredibly bad for having brought it up in the first place. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a debbie downer during dinner."

"No, it's okay. I promise. I've.. gotten used to it at this point. It used to be hard for me, but I've accepted everything."

"Still doesn't mean it doesn't get hard for you."

"I've learned to manage." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"I hope you know you're doing an amazing job balancing everything and for being a great father to Seora."

"Thanks." 

"I'm also glad you have Seonghwa and Mingi."

"Me too." He laughs. "They're a pain in my ass, but they're my bestfriends. I don't think I would have been able to get through a lot without them. And they're good to Seora."

"That's good, I'm glad." You eat a bit more before you feel yourself getting content and full.

"Full?"

"Damn near. I think I ate too fast." You chuckle. "I'm almost done with my sake."

"Bottoms up?" You nod, tapping your glass against his before the both of you take it to the neck. Yunho finishes up a few more plates before he sits back and gulps his water down, causing you to giggle to yourself. "Fuck, I'm full. Overdid it, for sure."

"Was worth every bit of it, though. Maybe we should walk it off?"

"Yeah. Let's head to the next stop. I think you'll like it. And we'll get our steps in." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, calling the waiter over.

"Can I split with you?"

"Absolutely not." Yunho says, handing over his card directly to him.

"You're already driving me everywhere and taking me to another location after this. The least I can do is chip in."

"Nope. The least you can do is just enjoy yourself with me tonight." He smiles sweetly just as he grabs the receipt handed to him by the waiter, signing off and tucking his own copy swiftly into his pocket before looking at you. 

"Couldn't even let me see the receipt."

"Nope." He repeats and stands. "Ready to go, pretty girl?" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stand and nod, leading the way out of the restaurant with Yunho in tow. He answers your questions on the way to the car, giving you hints about the next location. It still leaves you stumped in the end, deciding to let Yunho continue taking matters into his own hands with you. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, slipping into the driver's seat as he rubs his hands together and immediately turns the heat on when he starts the car. "All good? Too hot?"

"Just perfect."

"Good." You sit back comfortably as Yunho sets off for the next destination for tonight. "So, how was the sushi? Be honest."

"It was so good!" He looks at you when he comes to a red light, almost as if he's trying to read you, really read you, and you giggle. "What?"

"Just making sure."

"That I'm not lying?"

"Maybe." You laugh even more.

"I would never. If I didn't enjoy it, I would've given an honest review."

"Mmkay, I believe you." He laughs. "I want you to have a good night with me."

"I am already." You look at him with a soft expression. "And I'm sure the next part to this will be just as fun. If not, more. I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I do." Yunho smiles, wanting to hold your hand so badly while he drives. But, he doesn't. He holds back. He feels like there could be a better opportunity.

One that'll feel right and set the mood for the remainder of the night.

For this entirely.

After a good 20 minutes of driving down south, Yunho exits off the freeway and takes an immediate right down towards a large-sized building with all modern exterior designs. He parks in the lot next to it, doing his gentleman deed of helping you out of the car and leading you towards the beautiful building.

It's one of the city's biggest museums, and the event they're hosting for a couple of weeks is called Spirit House. It focuses on Asian American and Asian diasporic artists that are showcasing art pertaining to horror, spirits, haunted houses, reincarnation, different dimensions and other themes along those lines. You continue to read the pamphlet before Yunho looks at you with a small smile on his face.

"Wanna walk around?" You nod.

"How'd you know I'd be into this stuff?"

"It sounded cool, so why not?"

"You're good, Jeong Yunho." You giggle and continue into the first part of the exhibit. The atmosphere is dark and dim, the artwork on the walls screaming afterlife. Death. Souls. Horror, fear. You're so intrigued that you find yourself slowly moving from work to work; trying to take in all the details of the images in front of you. You didn't even realize Yunho had been watching you from behind, snapping photos every chance he could before moving onto the next room to get a preview of what's to come.

"Hey." Yunho says from behind you. "Wanna show you something in the next room." 

"Okay." You look down at the hand he puts out, waiting for you to take it. You gently slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining before he guides you to the next exhibit and it feels incredibly natural. It's a room full of mini fixtures— almost like miniature set-ups of old fashioned homes and other buildings. He shows you one that has the artist's own adaptation of Junji Ito characters spread across levels of an old, haunted house.

"Oh my god, I love it." You peek down to get a closer look, hand still laced with Yunho's. "I love Junji Ito. And the work in the other room reminded me of Takato Yamamoto. It's amazing."

"Made for you." You chuckle, tugging him along as you both look at the next miniature setups alongside of it. Yunho doesn't even mind one bit. He's enjoying the exhibit, but he's enjoying it even more with you here— holding his hand every step of the way. You snap a few photos of the art before Yunho directs you to stand near one of the exhibits where the lighting falls on you perfectly. He takes a few more photos— more candid ones from behind you especially— just so you have photos to look back at when you wanna reminisce on your first date with him.

The next room of the exhibit is an interactive light show; the  room is completely dark, with different lights projecting things around the room. The background music is mysterious, creepy; fitting the vibe all together. You continue to walk with Yunho while snapping photos of your silhouettes in the mirrors. Yunho gets silly and makes a bunch of poses, making you laugh loudly in the process. At one point, you've found yourself standing near the corner of the room, watching all the lights come together to project a beautiful show onto the walls. Yunho comes next to you, admiring the same view— but you, mainly. You look up at him to tell him how amazing the event is, but he's already looking down at you with fondness and endearment sprinkled in his big brown orbs.

You almost.. wanna kiss him.

But, you shake off the thought quickly by dragging him to the next exhibits— loosely holding his hand throughout the rest of the event.

Too bad he would've kissed you back, had you known.

No, he needs to be a gentleman and he needs to do right by you, Yunho thinks. He can't just kiss you on the first date or else he runs the risk of you thinking he only wants you for one thing.

Like Ara; but, that situation is a little different.

"Yunho! That was so fun." You smile at him the way you do, and it melts his heart. "Thank you for taking me to this."

"Of course. I think it ends after the weekend, so perfect timing." You quickly scroll through some of the pictures you took. "I'll send you the pictures I have later."

"Okay." You look at the buskers on the opposite end of the street, along with a food cart nearby. "Yunho, let's go check it out really quickly!"

"I'm down." He nods, noticing it's only about to hit 10pm. Seora must be waiting for him, but he knows she'll sleep until he gets there and Mingi hasn't made a peep. He feels like he's in the clear.

He holds your hand tightly as you both cross the street safely, stopping near the food cart first while lightly bouncing to the live music nearby.

"Want a snack?" You nod and cling onto his arm.

"I could use one. Museum took up my energy." He laughs. Yunho buys some custard-filled bungeoppang for you two to snack on while observing the buskers. You bounce along next to him and he starts to dance in his own way, making you laugh at how cute he's being with you. You snap a few photos of him that you'll share later, not knowing Yunho had a bunch of your photos to share as well.

You and Yunho sing along to some familiar songs before the buskers end the first half of their performance for a tiny break.

"That was cool. They did really well!"

"They were so good!" You toss in some cash into the guitar case. "And I didn't know you could sing!"

"I— no." Yunho laughs.

"I wanna hear more of your singing." You pout as you tug on his arm on the way back to the car.

"Maybe."

"Yunho." You whine and he laughs.

"I promise you it's nothing that great."

"Very much the opposite of what I think, just so you know." He stands by the passenger door, allowing you to hop in but he doesn't close the door right away. He stands and looks at you and there's something in his eyes that you can't really read.

"I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did. A lot." He licks his lips, and you can tell he's having the same internal battle you had not too long ago in the light exhibit. But, he brushes it off by tapping the door frame before shutting your door gently and hopping into his seat. 

The drive home is as expected; with you and Yunho talking about your similar music tastes this time and Yunho being a bit more open about his vocals. You look at him as he sings a tune or two, explaining that his dad is the one with the vocals in the family. You tease that next time, you two should go to a karaoke bar to end the night and he smirks.

At least you're thinking about next time's just like he is, too.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you find yourself not wanting to part from him. You know he has to go home to Seora though, and it breaks your heart knowing she's been waiting for her dad to come home. You step out of the car and tug on your coat, the night colder than it was a few hours ago.

"Welp, this is me." You both look at the apartment building, with Yunho tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Let me walk you up."

"No, it's okay. I promise it's right there." You point at your apartment before chuckling and turning to him completely. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome, Y/N." He watches as you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes, and he loves the initiation, but he freezes. Completely. 

"I'll see you next week, hm? Get home safely." You smile toothlessly at him before turning on your heel to walk up to your unit. Just as you're about to make it up the steps, Yunho is chasing after you with long strides, causing you to turn and raise a brow. "Did I leave something?"

"Mm, maybe." He says with a tiny smirk on his face. Suddenly, his large, warm hands come up to cup your cheeks— lips capturing yours in a sweet goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." You smile up at him as his thumb caresses the surface of your right cheek.

"Night." He steps back, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big. He lingers around until he sees you successfully slip into your unit and hears the door shut close.

What he doesn't see is the way you squeal and dig your face into your hands, incredibly giddy and happy from the turn of events.

You really liked Yunho.

And he does, too.

So much that the smile doesn't even fade when he pulls up to the house, Mingi's car leaving enough room for him to park in his usual spot. Yunho can see the faint flickering of the TV lights through the kitchen window, and he knows Seora is probably on the couch waiting for his arrival.

When he steps through the door, Mingi is placing some food into the fridge before returning his attention to the remaining dishes in the sink. He quietly greets his bestfriend before nodding towards the couch— signaling that Seora had fallen asleep while waiting.

"Has it been long?" Yunho asks lowly.

"A bit, yeah. She said practice was exhausting today." Yunho chuckles before crouching down in front of the couch and brushing her hair back.

"Ace." Her eyes slowly flicker open.

"Oh, finally. You're back." He laughs.

"Let's get to bed, hm?" She sleepily nods, sitting up before walking to her bedroom. "Say bye to uncle Mingi."

"Love you, ace!" Mingi calls out as he watches her sleepily walk across the living room.

"Love you too. Goodnight." She mutters and lazily waves before dragging herself into her room and shutting the door. It isn't long before Yunho sees her shut off the lights, causing him to turn the volume down on the TV before helping Mingi clean up.

"So, how was it?" Yunho smiles.

"Good." He avoids eye contact as he blushes, setting the dry dishes into the cabinet.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Meaning?" Mingi rests against the corner before smirking at him. " I have time."

"I really, really like her."

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Who's the Dad?

Prompt Day 31: Midnight | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Established Steddie, Middle Age, Steddie as Parents, TikTok Trend, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Goodie Doesn't Want to Hold That Baby, New Year's Eve Fun is Different When You're Older

"Why am I holding this baby?" Goodie asks, taking Betts from Robin and awkwardly holds her up in the air under her arms. Looking right at her, as if he's willing her not to cry. 

She doesn't, but Betts is highly suspicious of this arrangement. 

Goodie is too, apparently. He might cry first.

Eddie laughs, "That's your niece. Act like you've met before." 

They're gonna have to set this to music, and hope the lip-reading lady doesn't come along and expose them.

Steve is recording on Robin's phone, falling victim to another tiktok trend, but he can't wait to see if the internet can guess who her dad is. Especially since she has two. They're kind of cheating, but that just makes it more fun.

They pass her to Jeff next, and Jeff does better, but grins as he passes her back, "I think that I might be the obviously incorrect answer." 

Eddie laughs, "Adoption, man. Lots of options. Just act cool."

Steve's not sure any of them can be cool. Not anymore. They're too old for that.

"Why are we doing this again?" Goodie asks, hovering behind Jeff, as if he's scared he might be handed her again.

"Because we're bored. And old. And if we want to stay awake for midnight to ring in the new year we need to be entertained for the next four hours," Steve explains.

New Year's Eve isn't as wild as it once was, that's for damn sure.

As soon as Gareth walks in the front door, Steve is filming as Robin immediately hands Betts over to him. Gareth takes her with one hand, gripping her little thigh as he holds her securely to his side. 

Then he looks around at them looking at him, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everybody just laughs.

Betts isn't paying much attention to Gareth, but she's used to him. Gareth's girls are older, and he's definitely been hands-on to get his baby fix from a kid he can hand back when she starts to cry or needs a diaper change.

Eddie gets his turn, making her laugh and Steve thinks it's very cute. Then Eddie takes the camera for Steve to have his. Betts pays exactly no attention to him, preferring to look over his shoulder at everyone else in the crowded house.

Then they keep moving: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Argyle. The video's gonna be ten minutes long at this rate.

Robin posts it, the clock strikes midnight, and Steve doesn't think anything of it. Not really.

But when he wakes up in the new year, they've gone viral. Really viral. Thousands of comments are full of guesses, some right, some wrong. And lots and lots of thirst that's spread around to all of them. It's…a lot. It's a lot.

Eddie's already scrolling through them before Steve's even found his glasses.

"Why do they think Gareth is her dad before they think it's me?" Eddie asks, indignant. 

"They don't not think it's you. There are lots of offers to birth your baby if she isn't yours," Steve argues. And there are. Some of these comments are filthy.

"Everybody thinks it's you, and if not you, then Gareth," Eddie says, still complaining. 

He's not totally wrong. 

"They only think it's me because they've dug through Robin's profile. They're cheating," Steve says.

"No, they think Betts looks the most comfortable with you!" Eddie says, and Steve is afraid this is gonna turn ugly, quick. She wasn't uncomfortable with Eddie, she was being entertained. Of course she was looking at him.

Steve needs to diffuse this, but Eddie keeps going, "Elizabeth. How could you?"

He's so dramatic. Steve loves him, but it's too early for this.

"You were making her laugh. Of course she was gonna be looking at you," Steve suggests, trying to keep this from becoming an issue.

"Well, what about Gareth?!" Eddie says, shrill, poking at the screen of his phone.

"Gareth has kids. They had twins, Ed. He's incapable of being uncomfortable holding a baby, it was beaten out of him by overexposure. He could hold two babies at once. One is nothing."

Eddie laughs, but Steve can tell his feelings are a little hurt. They shouldn't have done this, but it just seemed like silly fun. Especially to see the uncomfortable ones, like Goodie and Mike, struggle to look like they've ever held a baby before.

Some of the guesses for Steve were because she paid no attention to him. He's old news. But a lot of them honestly were people digging into Robin's profile, seeing that he is heavily featured, but not watching the videos to see that they are best friends, not a couple.

Yeah, she was comfortable in his arms, and had no reason to check him out to make sure she wasn't gonna get dropped on her head. Gareth had the same vibes.

Eddie had decided to entertain her, and the audience, and that certainly worked against him. It charmed everyone, and Betts was clearly comfortable with him, but they weren't sure she was his, because of it.

"They think she looks like you," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "Well, we all know that's not true."

Eddie finally laughs, the crisis averted, and rolls closer to Steve. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

Betts starts crying through the monitor on the nightstand.

"I think you should go, as her favorite," Eddie says, burying his face into Steve's pillow. 

Yeah, yeah. He'll take one for the team. Eddie gets today to whine about this, but that's all. That's it.

Steve stands, and throws a t-shirt over his head, and heads for the bedroom door, "That's fine. I'll go continue to woo her to my side. As the favorite."

Eddie lays there for a second, and when he finally processes it, he says, "Hey! Wait a minute!"

And Steve just laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. This will fix itself by noon. Guaranteed.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you've seen this trend on tiktok it is generally pretty easy to tell who is the dad! I think the secret is don't look at who the baby looks like, look at how they're being held and if they are curious about the situation they've found themselves in, lol.

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

You said you'd stay with us (you swore you'd still be you)

absinthe makes the heart grow fonder - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: rockstar au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: drummer reader, some real 'where does the performance end and you begin' vibes, reader smokes, it's inferred that they're also drinking, y'all will have to pry bestie peter from my cold dead hands

a/n: oh uuuuuh more pining more yearning more I'm in love with you but I'm too afraid to make it real. like what if you were all in a band and you were all in love and you were all too scared of fucking it all up to say anything

"You're looking awful glum tonight," James points out as he leans against the railing of the balcony you're on. He doesn't reprimand you for sitting on the railing, but he does frown as he glances down to where the ground is, inching closer to you to place a firm hand on your thigh.

"I called the car around - I'm going back to the hotel. You can let the others know if they notice," you respond in a sigh, the smoke leaving your lungs on the exhale as you bring your cigarette to your lips for another drag.

"…Are you sober right now, love?" James asks, eyeing you carefully. You look at him bemusedly.

"You think I came to a party after our show and… didn't have a single drink?"

"Well…" he says carefully. You narrow your eyes and James grips your thigh a little tighter - a plead for you to hear him out. "You weren't exactly the life of the party tonight, lovely. You disappeared pretty quick. If you have been drinking, that means you've been doing it out here - alone, sitting very precariously on a very high balcony, with no one looking out for you." You've stopped looking at him, keeping your eyes trained on the expansive driveway out front of whoever's house this is. When you see your car pull up, you put out your cigarette easily on the railing before sliding off of it, letting James keep a hand firmly on you, sliding from your thigh up to your waist.

"I don't need a babysitter, James," you say bluntly, but you can't help but soften a bit at the wide, sad eyes he gives you, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. You wonder idly if he realizes he looks at you so often like he's a puppy you've just kicked. "I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsals," you offer gently before you slip away.

In the safety of the backseat of your car, tinted windows blocking out the gaze of the outside world, you let your head lean back against the seat, sighing and closing your eyes as you rub at your temples. The relief is short-lived, however, as the car door is pulled open and James slides into the seat next to you, grinning despite the glare you sent him.

"Didn't really think I'd let you go sit at the hotel sulking all night, did you?" He quips. You bristle.

"I don't sulk," you huff. His smile widens as the car pulls away.

"Sure you don't, sweetheart." He throws an arm around your shoulders and you let him, sighing as you lean against him, resting your head against his chest. "You wanna tell me what's going on?" He asks gently.

"Nothing," is your quick reply. He hums thoughtfully, running a hand through your hair gently.

"Wanna try again?" He's still gentle, a patience seeping from him into you that lulls you as you relax further against him.

"It's just a lot sometimes. I'm tired is all," you admit. James presses a kiss to the crown of your head and your heart does something funny in your chest.

"You're allowed to take a break every now and then, love," he offers. You tense.

"I don't need -"

"No, but you still can," he placates, smoothing his hand over the back of your head as he silently coaxes you into relaxing once more. "I know you don't need to. God knows you'll run on fumes forever and never say a thing about it. But you don't need to - not here, not with us."

James, in all his mother-hen nature, continues to reprimand you in that gentle, caring way of his all the way up to your hotel room, only stopping when you shut yourself in the bathroom and turn the tap on so that you can't hear him. By the time you come out in clothes that are decidedly much more comfortable than what you'd been wearing at the party, he's lounging in your bed and flipping idly through TV channels.

"Oh, sure, make yourself at home," you quip as you flop onto the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard. James grins in that beaming way that he's so fond of, turning the TV volume down to a low, background hum.

"Thanks, love." You scoff at his words.

"Are you planning on staying here all night?" You ask wearily. He pretends to think about it.

"What will you do if I leave?" You shrug, sliding further down in bed and crossing your arms. James opens his mouth to speak and you know he's going to say something about you sulking, so you make a point to wack him with a pillow before he can. He laughs good-naturedly about it, though, so you're not so sure what you've accomplished.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, you don't have time to ponder it further before your hotel room door is swinging open and Sirius is flouncing into the room, Remus trailing in after him. You sigh and look at Remus imploringly, but he only shrugs, leaning towards you to squeeze your shoulder in what you're sure is supposed to be comforting before he settles in the armchair next to the bed. Sirius, on the other hand, takes to flopping directly across the bottom of the bed, landing on James's legs and causing some sort of friendly tussle between the two of them.

"This is actually my hotel room, you know," you point out dryly. "How did you even get in here?"

"You gave Peter your spare key," Remus points out.

"Peter doesn't come in unannounced," you shoot back. Sirius and James stop whatever roughhousing they're caught up in so that Sirius can lean over and press a sweaty kiss to your cheek. You click your tongue in annoyance and hope it hides the way your heart flips.

"Cheer up, doll," Sirius says, unperturbed by your scowl. "What were you playing at, anyway? Leaving without telling any of us and thinking we wouldn't notice? Like we wouldn't miss our favourite drummer." You shoot James a look that says you shouldn't have told them and he smiles disarmingly.

"Just because I'm staying in tonight doesn't mean you all have to - and I'm your only drummer, Sirius, in case you've forgotten," you say icily. Sirius smiles, but it's more honest than you're used to, and he reaches across James to smooth a thumb over your cheek quickly before pulling back.

"Could never forget you, love. Not even if I tried." You stare at him, his tone heavier than normal, as Remus shifts and clears his throat.

"Anyway, dove… we just want to make sure you're alright, yea?" He says, and you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding as the tension dissipates. 

"Everything's fine," you say stubbornly. "I just didn't really feel like being there tonight."

"Well, we can see that," James chimes in. "But you always go to these things. You -"

"I know, I know, ok? I won't - it won't happen like that again, all right?" You huff. "I won't leave like that."

"No, see, I'm not sure you're understanding what Jamie's saying, love," Sirius says, the softness in his voice making your heart drop. It takes a lot for Sirius to be gentle, and he only does it when he thinks he really needs it. "What we're saying is that you don't have to. Pete never goes to the parties - we haven't kicked him out of the band yet, have we?"

"But that's different," you sigh, sitting up straighter. "Pete and I… are different kinds of performers. You know that." Remus leans forward in his chair to put a hand on your knee and you will yourself not to flinch at the contact, not to shy away from the kindness in his eyes that you know he reserves for the people he really loves.

"You don't have to perform here, love," Remus says gently. "You don't have to do that. Not here, not when it's just us." Your bottom lip trembles and you bunch the covers of the bed in your hands.

"Sometimes I think, for you lot, this life is fun… and for me, it's still work. I just can't make myself see it the way you guys do."

"But that's what we're here for," James offers, his voice kind. "Let us help you out. We decided to do this together for a reason, right? You decided to stick with us for a reason."

"I… I did, yea," you say.

"Yea," Sirius repeats. "So let us be here, alright?" Remus rubs his thumb across your knee as the other two look at you expectantly. You smile, a terse, small sort of thing - but it works nonetheless.

"Alright," you sigh. "Together, then."