#i left my glasses in his car too so now im blind until i see him again lmaooooo

[mooodyblue]

me todayyyy 🤸🏼

[mingkii]

LOVE AGAIN ─✎ 송.민기

❖❳；Pairing; Song Mingi x Fem!Reader (ft. P1h's keeho, itzy's ryujin, and wooyoung)

❖❳；Genre; Greek mythology au, angst, reincarnation au.

❖❳；Words ; 6.2k

❖❳；Warnings; Mentions of death.

❖❳；Synopsis; A mission to find your lover who was reborn in the mortal world became a mission for heartbreak as you watched him fall in love with someone else.

❖❳；A/n; I honestly don't know what happened near the end, very disappointing but oh well. Not very proud of this so im sorry and don't get your hopes up.

❖❳； Note; My entry for @/sleepylixie and @/delicatewerewolfsoul 's hamartia collab. This might contain inaccurate representations of greek gods but for the sake of the story, just go with it. Slightly modernized as well.

The sun rises on the horizon, casting light all over Olympus, waking the gods in slumber, reminding them of the work they need to do. However, you wanted to fight the sun for rising so early. The rays piercing through the depths of the ocean, just enough to peek through the windows of your room.

You stir under the covers, not wanting to get up. The light blinding your closed eyes, preventing you from going back to sleep. You were honestly hoping you won't wake up the next day. You didn't want to wake up in agony knowing there's nothing to wake up to. You still picture his crescent eyes when he smiles, his laugh that echoes in your ears as if he is there with you. His hands that felt soft and warm left a mark on your skin, reminding you of how he held you in his arms.

Every night you see him in your dreams— for a while at least. Your heart was hurt, it wanted to remind you of all the things you could've done, but it knew that if you kept dreaming about him, you would have died grieving years ago.

A loud knock on your door suddenly erupted, a groan escaped your lips. You rolled to the other side trying to bury your head under the covers to drown out the sound. Then, your door busted open, making you sit up in surprise.

"What the fuck," you furrowed your brows, watching your father fix the dislocated door hinge.

"Don't use such language on me, young lady," he leans his trident beside the door. "You have a very important schedule to meet your suitors today."

Your eyes widen, "Suitors?!" You shrieked, your father's face contorts.

“Father, I think this has gone long enough for you to know that I am not interested.” he let out a sigh. He’s well aware of that.

"Look, I understand, but I will not have you sulk for the rest of your life just because that good-for-nothing son of Athena died," your blood boiled at his words.

"No father, I don’t think you do understand," You said with resentment.

You tried to bury the tears back down, not wanting to cry in front of your father. The pent up anger made you want to lash out like what he said was the last straw but your pride was much stronger.

"It's rude to keep them in line, they've travelled far just to get here, so I suggest you make yourself presentable and be there as soon as possible," his last words before shutting your door closed behind him.

The knick-knacks on your shelf shook as your father slammed the door shut. He wasn't mad, he was just….strict, as your father and god of the sea, you are under his territory thus, giving you no choice but to follow him.

You laid back on your bed, pulling the covers, letting out a muffled scream into the blanket. Only kids get treated like this, he acts like you aren't already a hundred years old.

You didn't want to meet another batch of mermen with plastic smiles and fake personalities. They were only after you because of your title, daughter of Poseidon, god of the sea, with a legacy that soon passes unto you. You had sisters and brothers, you didn't understand why it had to be you, but Poseidon himself already had it all planned.

You swam near the big stadium-like structure, with large pillars that were carved so intricately in quartz.  The end of the stadium planted Poseidon's throne where he sat so elegantly. You hid behind the pillars, spotting the men that were seated to the side, waiting for your arrival, but you already decided you weren't going to attend. Not this time.

You took the longest route to Olympus, making sure no one spots you, escaping the suffocating vast seas that used to be called home.

=

"You know one day I could get killed by your dad," Wooyoung set the teacups filled with hot liquid on the dining table where you sat.

It's been a while since you set foot on land, you didn't miss it, the painful after-effects of walking for too long did make you wonder how land dwellers live.

"He won't since I made him promise it," your cheeky smile made him roll his eyes.

"But won't he easily find you here?"

"He will but he couldn't be bothered to travel all the way here," you took a sip from the cup, hot liquid running down your throat.

"I'll be home by sundown, can't have him wash Olympus just to find me," you force out a laugh, wooyoung giving you a sympathetic look.

He knows you are still mourning. Deep inside you are still in pain, but you try to keep it hidden.

"You know, it's been years and he is still bringing me these men I barely even know and he wants me to pick one to marry?" You planted your forehead on the table, hiding your face in frustration. "It's getting annoying." After those annoying years of having to pretend you are ok and just sitting pretty in front of dozens of merpeople, making yourself look like a prize in a glass box waiting for a winner to take you home.

But of course, it's still your choice and you chose to be with none of them.

"Were any of them attractive at least?" You hear the familiar charming voice. You look up to see Wooyoung's mother— aphrodite— adorned in her usual attire, laced with gold sequences, a headpiece in gold, and jewellery that complimented her skin.

You shook your head as you gave her a soft smile, "They always have this forced appearance to look strong and the wide creepy smiles that they think will help attract me to them," she listens to your rant, pouting slightly, "What a shame, you know your father's taste was never that good," she winked. You knew she was talking about your mother, whom you didn't know that well since she is always focusing on your brothers.

"I thought you went out early," Wooyoung questioned. Aphrodite cupped her son's cheeks, kissing the top of his nose.

"I just forgot something dear," you giggled at her ways of babying her son. Fixing his hair and touching up the light makeup he puts on every day. You can't deny how attractive Wooyoung is, you could see the features that he inherited from his mother.

"Poseidon won't stop what he is doing though, I suggest you do as his wishes y/n, or you'll face his consequences," strips of memory to that day cross your mind again. It was truly painful to recall, it made your heart clenched and you wanted to scream your head off.

"Look, whatever it is you want to do, just make sure it isn't something stupid," Wooyoung held your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. You remembered the last stupid thing you did.

You were grateful to have met someone like Wooyoung, he has always been there for you. Even though your father had been skeptical of him for so long, he still let you be around him.

But you can't promise him this time because another stupid idea just popped up in your head.

=

"Are you kidding y/n? Didn't we just talk about this?" Wooyoung follows you from behind as you walk through the forest. The last time you were here was the day your world fell apart.

You swore to not cross paths where it reminded you of him but right now, it is important.

"Look, demigods are bound to be reincarnated, there's a chance I could see him again," you explained, stepping on sticks and pebbles, slashing through vines and large leaves with your bronze dagger. Mingi wasn't like you or wooyoung who had both parents that are gods. Like Athena, he was created by her from her mind. He wasn't born….normal.

"And then what? What will you do if you see him?"

In all honesty, you didn't plan that far, all you thought of was to meet mingi in the mortal world. Wooyoung's concern for you just became worse when the silence answers his question. You have no plan, you just wanted to see mingi again.

You ignored Wooyoung's continuous nagging until you reached your destination. The tree that grew sweet magical berries that can only be found deep in the forests of Olympus. The berry that could help the gods enter the mortal realm.

"Y/n…." Worry settles in, Wooyoung knows the side effects of these berries. You weren't as powerful as your parents who were able to visit the mortal realm on your own, you needed help and you were certainly not gonna ask your father.

"I'll be fine," you picked a few handfuls of berries and stuffed them in your bag, "Atlantis won't be that far, If I need to, I’ll just come back." You smiled at Wooyoung.

"I leave tomorrow."

"What about your dad? Won't he get mad?" You two made your way back out of the forest, taking the path of where you came from.

"I just told him I'm sleeping at your place for a while," Wooyoung freezes in place. As expected of his role as your best friend, he's responsible for covering you up.

"You owe me big time."

=

Arriving at the mortal realm, alone and slightly scared. But the sight of what seemed to be the city made you giddy all of the sudden.  

You walked around exploring the beautiful structures of the city. Tall buildings surrounding the area, billboards, and giant screens with lights and flashing colours. You were overwhelmed at first but it was quite interesting. It was nothing like you have seen before.

There were tons of people who wore casual attire, some wore suits as they travelled to work. Big buses and cars drove by in the streets— you almost got run over by one, not knowing the purpose of the blinking traffic light; the horrendous sound of the car horn almost did make your ears bleed.

Settling down on one of the park benches, you took a break from walking. The sandals you brought weren't doing any justice for your feet.

Your surroundings were peaceful, pink flowers scattered across the concrete, different coloured leaves decorating the trees, getting ready for the fall season. Suddenly, you felt a gust of wind. The eerie grey smoke rising in front of you. Chills running up your spine, your mind having a clear idea of where it's coming from.

A cold mischievous laugh emitted from within, your initial reaction was to pull out the dagger from your side, clutching the handle tight until your knuckles turned white.

"Relax, it's me," the same annoying voice you dreaded hearing.

"Ryujin, what are you doing here?" You scowled. She was bad news— the spirit of mischief lives within her, wherever she goes, chaos follows.

"Hmm, are you not happy to see me?" Her Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto her face as she took a seat beside you, crossing her leg on top of the other. Her hair was shorter than the last time you saw her, eyes still full of mischief.

"I was hoping to not see you again after the incident 20 years ago," you spat, hatred lacing your words.

"Right, the poor boy, died so soon," her face turned into a sad look before smiling once again.

Ryujin was the main cause of his death. Your father just made it happen. Leading Mingi to that place in the forest where she knew your father was there, he hated Athena's children, he wouldn't hesitate to kill one in sight.

You wished there was a way to go back in time to stop Ryujin from leading Mingi to his inevitable death. But as expected, she felt no shame or guilt whatsoever.

"What is it that you plan anyway, there is a reason for you to come here, right?"

You kept your mouth closed, not wanting to possibly give your plan away for the spirit of mischief to take its course. And so, you kept quiet. Ryujin clicked her tongue in annoyance. She wished she could read minds, but that's her brother's power.

"Fine, keep it to yourself," she stood up, grumbling something under her breath, "Just so you know, I am not leaving without having a bit of fun," another gust of wind blowing in your direction leaves swirling in a circle on the concrete just below her feet, the puff of smoke covering her figure as she disappeared.

Your mind was in shambles. Usually, she would try and pressure you into answering but she brushed it off so soon.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, the weight suddenly leaving your chest. Sometimes the presence of Ryujin gives you this uneasy feeling, but it was better than getting a visit from her brother. He is ten times worse.

=

You finally adapted to the mortal world, got a place to stay all by yourself. There were obstacles on the way but you got over them easily.

You lay quietly on the bed, and to be honest, it was a bit uncomfortable. The covers are placed over you up to your neck. You stared at the ceiling, counting rams in hopes of helping you fall asleep. And on your 1117th ram, your eyes finally grew heavy.

But to your dismay, your throat decides that it was parched. You sat up from your bed, wearing your slippers, and made your way to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it up with water, but before you could take a sip, you saw a figure on your couch.

You dropped the glass, shattering across the floor. The figure whipped his head around and you couldn't believe your eyes. Is this a dream? You must be dreaming… You might have even gone mad.

"Mingi?" You stuttered. You haven't called out that name in so long.

"Y/n, be careful you'll hurt yourself," he stood from the couch, making his way to you. You took a few steps back. Mingi's face shows a look of confusion.

He stepped on the glass unfazed by it. Did he not feel that? Of course, this is a dream, he's not real.

"What's wrong?" His arms out to reach for you.

"N-no, I'm dreaming, this can't be—" you shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. You felt warm hands cup your face, it was so real, your knees so close to giving out.

"What do you mean?" His eyes were the same shade of brown. His hair is styled the same way he always has it in.

"You're real?" Your voice croaked, mingi chuckled. The same smile you saw years ago, but as expected, his face started to fade. This is definitely a dream. It was impossible to have mingi physically there, you saw him….die, right in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm real," his voice was soft, comforting even. You were really hearing his voice, this is his voice. He pressed his forehead against you, kissing the top of your nose promptly.

At this point, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You sobbed making mingi pull away and look at you with worry in his eyes.

"Please don't leave me again," you pleaded. You wished it was real, your chest grew even tighter. What kind of cruel punishment is this?

"Why would I leave?" He wiped the tear on your cheek. "I'll always be here," he said in reassurance as he pulled you in his embrace. You missed it so much—you missed him so much. The same warmth was still there, but it eventually started to feel cold. Like Hades was paying a visit to take him back to the underworld.

You finally got to see him again, even if it was only a dream, it really felt like he was there, body and soul present. You didn't want to let him go, there's no way you are losing him again.

His image starts to fade, you start to feel the emptiness again. His hold on your body began to feel like nothing, it was cold like ice. You tried to grip his shirt, keeping him from disappearing. You spewed out pleas, begging him to stay. At Least for a little longer.

But then you woke up, hot liquid running down your face.

You were crying, something you haven't done in a long while. Slapping your cheeks, making sure you were really awake.

"Come one y/n, it was just a dream," you said to yourself out loud.

20 years and you thought you were over him. But those agonizing years were torturous. Everything seemed to remind you of him. Wooyoung almost didn't see you for 18 years until you finally decided to visit him. You wouldn't know what to do if wooyoung was never in your life, you might as well have been asleep for the rest of your life.

=

The clamshell that sat on your bedside table glowed. It was a magic shell that sends messages back and forth in writing. You gave one to Wooyoung so you could communicate from a distance.

"Did you find him?" The letters glowed as they appeared.

"Not yet." you wrote back, watching the writings disappear indicating that he is reading it.

"Time is ticking y/n." Anxiety washes over you again. Soon the berries won't be enough to hold you there and you'll be needing to come back home.

"Y/n, you there?" A voice startled you, making you almost drop the shell. It would be bad if you did, it was a fragile thing, you could risk shattering it and won't have anything else to communicate with.

"In here!" You called out, quickly hiding the shell in the dresser.

"I brought lunch," mina smiled, holding up a paper bag filled with takeout.

The day you moved in, still exploring the apartment that you rented, you heard a knock on your door.

You peeked through the peephole. A woman stood in front of the door patiently, short brown hair— half of it tied into a ponytail— dressed in a leather jacket and denim pants. She looked about 20, maybe 21 but she doesn't look older than 25.

You almost pulled out your dagger but resisted, remembering that they are mortals and you could get in trouble. You slowly twisted the doorknob open, opening it slightly so your body is visible but not the room.

"Hi, I'm mina!" She said in a bubbly tone. Her energy made you slightly overwhelmed. "I'm your neighbour, just next door." She pointed to the apartment beside yours.

You nodded, not knowing what to reply. "Have you finished unpacking?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Do you need help with boxes or anything?"

You looked back in your apartment, body moving aside just enough for Mina to have a clear view.

"Did you not bring any stuff?"  You shook your head.

"I only brought a satchel," you gripped the strap that hung across your body. She gazes at the small bag attached to your body.

"Well, it looks like you need help settling in, why don't I cook dinner for you? You don't seem to have any pots or pans or food either." Your stomach grumbled at the mere mention of food.

Mina giggled, making you heat up in embarrassment. "I'll take that as a yes."

Since then Mina has been your source of food and company. She's been a great companion for the past few days. You told Wooyoung all about her and he just replied coldly. The thought of your best friend getting jealous of your new mortal friend made you laugh.

"So, I just started my 3rd year of college, and honestly, I am tired of it— I've been thinking of dropping out but then my mom might whoop my ass…"  Mina rants while you sit there, zoned out watching the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Earth to y/n," mina waves her hand in front of you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Oh sorry, What were you saying?" The girl pouts, eventually brushing it off to discuss other things.

"Oh right, so I met this guy on campus and he is like, really cute. He is super tall and like, maybe a bit built..." You listened to her attentively but still in the back of your mind you couldn't help but discuss your plans on how to find mingi to yourself.

"Should I ask him out?" You blinked— you weren't paying attention again.

"I'm sorry?"

"The guy I met on campus on my first day, should I ask for his number?"

"Oh totally, you should," you said plainly, you feel really bad for not paying attention but you couldn’t help it when your mind is being occupied with something else. Mina just brushed it off, not noticing your spaced-out expression. She continued rambling while your mind wandered.

Time was running out, you needed a plan.

=

"Remind me why I am on your college campus again?" You said, mina dragging you by the arm. She woke you up at an ungodly hour just to travel early to her college campus. Few students were walking around campus, on their way to their scheduled class.

"Look, I barely have friends, also do you go to college? You look to be around my age," your eyes widen. Atlantis doesn't have schools, you had to travel to Olympus just to make it to class, but you only had to go until you turned 18. And you are immortal, you haven't been to school for a hundred years.

"I graduated," you just said. Hoping she won't ask further questions.

"Oh so you're older than me then," you nodded. She stopped to sit by a tree in the campus garden, patting the grass beside you. You sat beside her, leaning on the tree.

"I don't have class 'till after lunch, we can grab something to eat before you can go back to your apartment," she took out her textbook and paper to finish what she didn't the day before.

"Sorry for dragging you, You are always locked up in your apartment so I thought why not take you here with me," you were planning on exploring more of the city, just to take note of the possible routes to get around.

"Won't I get in trouble? I don't go here."

"You are fine, besides, it's an open college, anyone can visit here," she explains as she gets back to her work.

Your eyes wandered off somewhere else, spotting the students who were early, sitting on the grass as they got some sleep under the trees. Some were reading books and some were having their breakfast.

It makes you sleepy after a while, deciding to lean your head against the tree, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

A pair of shoes tapping against the grass, crunching the leaves on the way. You didn't bother to open your eyes so you just stayed and listened. Must be one of mina's friends as you hear her voice ushering for them to sit.

They sat on the other side of the tree beside mina, talking about classes and homework but something about that voice tingles your brain. The familiar deep husky voice made your heart ache. You were confused as to why you were reacting that way.

Soon the person left and you were forced to open your eyes when mina shook your shoulder abruptly.

"Guess who just gave me their number," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who?"

"The hot campus boy," she squealed, waving the paper in her hand. "His name is mingi and it's kinda cute and his voice was deep, not that deep, but like...deep."

Your eyes widen, "mingi?" She nodded. You felt like your world stopped spinning. Your mind is in shambles, processing the information. Your ears deafened the sounds around you, muffling mina's continuous babblings.

You thanked the gods that he's here, but then reality hit. He doesn't know you for he is only a reincarnation of the mingi you knew. He is no longer the son of Athena, he is just human.

=

"Are you sure it's the mingi?" Wooyoung's message appears from the clamshell. You lay on your bed, a book on your lap as you were reading just a while ago.

"Yes, Mina's description fits so perfectly," you bit your lip, anxiously fidgeting with your necklace. What if it wasn't him? You can't confirm that it really is him, he has no memory of his past life.

"Ok, so what are you gonna do now? You found him, what's the next step?" You mentally slapped yourself for being unprepared. You wanted to see him again, that was your main goal, and now that you know he's here, you have no reason to stay.

You want to be with him but it's impossible, you are immortal, he'll age while you stay young. Well, nothing much was changed when he was a demigod, but he had the opportunity to become immortal. It's not like there is some way a mortal can become immortal.

…..or is there.

"I'm coming back," the writing disappeared letter by letter as wooyoung's message appeared right after.

"Really? So that's it?"

You shook your head as if he could see you. "I have a plan"

"Oh no," wooyoung thought. Letting out a deep sigh. "She's gonna get into more trouble isn't she?" Wooyoung wished that somehow something would knock some sense into you.

=

"Y/n!"

"Mina, hey," she threw herself at you, engulfing you in a tight hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," she squeezed around your neck, restricting your airflow.

"Mina," you patted her back, making her apologize with a sheepish grin, "I'll be back soon though, you don't have to miss me too much."

"I know— wait, are you free right now? I was wondering if you wanna go eat before you leave," you thought for a second. Though it isn't difficult to travel back to Olympus, you're unfortunately on your last berry.

"Sure," you hoped it'll last you for another few hours.

Arriving at a restaurant with mina, ordering food as soon as you sat down. Your eyes wandered around. The restaurant was busy, waiters quickly passing around, trying to get to the customer's table as soon as possible.

"Finally," Mina says, standing up on her seat. You turned your head to the person she was referring to.

"Sorry I'm late, I got stuck in traffic."

"I invited mingi, I hope you don't mind y/n," Mina says with a sorry smile.

"I don't mind at all." That unsettling feeling soon washes over you, seeing mingi stand in front of you, face to face. You find it weird to see him like this like he didn't die. He looks like the same mingi years ago, it just felt….different.

You took your seats again, Mina helping mingi order his food. The three of you waited for your orders, chatting about anything that comes to mind. Mina talking about classes and homework that is due and mingi asking if any of you were free to a party this weekend.

Of course, you can't go.

"So, Where are you from y/n?" He asks you. His voice sounded so natural to you but at the same time, it felt foreign, like you just heard of it now. Technically you did but, the way demigod reincarnations work is they get reborn the same. Meaning they'll look the same, speak the same, and their personalities are most likely the same. Nothing will change once they get reborn— except, they won't remember anything from their past life.

"Atlantis," you blurted out, panic rushing through you. You can see the confusion in their faces.

"Like, the lost city of Atlantis?" Mortals, what are they teaching them?

"I mean Atlanta," you corrected yourself, body stiff as stone.

"America? That's far, do you have a flight?" Mina intervened. You didn't even know where that was, you just so happened to remember that book you read before coming here and the main character lived in a place called Atlanta.

"Uh yeah, sure," you felt cold sweat trickling down the back of your neck. You just hope they won't ask any more questions.

You let out a sigh of relief as the two of them get back to chatting with each other.

Finally, the food arrived and the sooner you finished the sooner you got to go home. And with your last berry, you popped it in your mouth after the meal.

Leaving the restaurant with mina and mingi you were finally able to go back to Olympus.

As you are ready to part ways, Mina engulfs you in a tight hug, cutting off your airflow. "Mina, you're squishing me," you said in a choked out voice. "Be quick ok," she gives you a final hug before walking in the other direction.

You waited until the coast was clear and hid somewhere secluded.

=

You arrived safely and with just a minute to spare. You were gonna go to wooyoung's place first before going back to Atlantis when you saw a lightning strike. A gust of moist air blows your way, a growling thunder piercing through your ears. Your mind immediately assumed that it was Zeus but when the clouds cleared you saw your father, sitting on a cloud with his trident on his lap.

"Father," you said, greeting him with a bow. Though he didn't look pleased with seeing you at the gates of Olympus, he still gave your hair a ruffle.

"You have me worried sick y/n, where were you?"

You expected yelling, hearing these words and this kind of tone shocked you. Especially even after telling him that you were staying at wooyoung's but still found you at the gates

"Look, I know I may have gone too far— with...you know, the marriage," he admits. Avoiding eye contact with you as much as possible. Not that it wasn't sincere, he just wasn't used to admitting he was wrong. But he loves you dearly and he'd do anything for you.

"It's ok, I actually forgot those happened." there was an awkward silence. Then, Poseidon left, after informing you of what time dinner was gonna be.

You finally arrived at your best friend's house and instead of a worried wooyoung, you were met with a furious wooyoung.

"I knew this was a bad idea, your father almost killed me!" He said. You rolled your eyes at the exaggeration.

"Relax wooyoung, nothing happened," you placed your bag onto his bed, taking out the souvenirs you got.

"Did he say anything to you? You are still alive so I'm guessing you haven't met yet?"

"I met him at the gates and he said he was worried." Thinking back to that moment made you shiver, it's like someone replaced your dad with someone completely different.

"Huh, well ok then— Ooh what are these," he was quick to change the topic as his curiosity fills in. Wooyoung takes the bag of candies you brought, ripping it open to take one of the wrappers with the sugary treats inside. You chuckled, watching wooyoung chew on the candy.

He notices your gaze stuck on the floor while you get lost in your own thoughts.

"Hey, did something else happen there?"

You snap back into reality, taking a while to process what wooyoung just said. You shook your head in response.

"Actually, is there a way to stay there without the berries?"

He stares at you for a moment, he honestly thought you were done and you weren't going back there. It's dangerous for you since you are not as strong as your father. Even with something more efficient than a magical fruit, you are bound to get in trouble.

"My mom has a necklace," wooyoung says, he didn't want to say it but he knew how important this is to you. Eventually you'll stop, knowing mortals and gods cannot stay together forever.

"She used to make me wear it when she let me go to the mortal world with her."

"Can I borrow it?"

=

"Y/n!" Mina ran to you with open arms, "I missed you so much," you giggled at your friend.

"I've only been gone for a week."

"A week too long," she pouted.

She takes your hand in hers, pulling you to whatever direction. You arrived at the airport, making it look like you got here by plane. Passing security check out and exiting the building.

"You still remember mingi right?" She asks.

"Of course, I left for a week, it doesn't mean I forgot anything that's here," she grinned.

"Why, what happened?" You asked, hiding the hint of fear in your voice.

"Oh nothing," she sing-song, trying to stop her lips from smiling too much.

You both stopped at the front of the main entrance, waiting for you-don't-know-who. Until a car stops in front of you. Mingi came to pick you two up, giving you a ride to your apartment.

"So, what's it like in your hometown," she asks, taking a bite of her food.

"Uh, It's….you know —uh…. there's trees and buildings."

Mina nodded slowly as she continued eating her food.

After you two finished eating, Mina left to finish her college work— probably with mingi.

You didn't want to think the worst but considering mina's behavior around mingi, you couldn't stop the thoughts running around your mind.

You gripped the pendant that was tied around your neck. It's pearly white color glowing due to the light reflecting on it. Its sharp edges indicate that it was shattered into parts.

The other half is with mingi.

Atleast, when he was still with you. It symbolizes your promise to always be together and be there for each other.

But fate just wasn't on your side. And it still isn't.

As you walked out of your apartment to get some fresh air, you spotted the two by the parking lot. Their faces are inches away from each other.

You didn't know why but you felt your heart sink. Tears welling in your eyes. You reminded yourself that this mingi isn't the same mingi that promised to be with you. He wasn't the same mingi that helped you run away from home whenever your parents were arguing again.

That gave you a reality check, you can't be with him anymore. You have to let him go.

Your gaze still stuck on the two, not noticing the sudden appearance of another spirit.

This time, it made you feel chills.

"Keeho," you said in a whisper. You didn't bother to look in his direction.

"Oh, I'm glad you recognize me," he said, a mischievous smile growing on his lips.

"Ryujin would have loved to see this, after all, this was her plan." You curled your fist into a ball, tight enough until your nails dug into your skin.

"Why?" You managed to let out. You didn't want this to affect you but it does. After everything you did, it all didn't matter in the end.

"I don't know, ask ryujin. I'm just here to relay a message."

Keeho pushed himself off the wall that he was leaning on and came over to you.

"Don't try to bring back something that was meant to be taken away, it'll come back to bite you in the ass," he whispered against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

Then he left, disappearing into the mist again.

Even though you just came back, you were already itching to leave. Packing your bag and locking the apartment. Giving the keys to the landlord.

Mina notices you in a hurry to leave, running after you to catch you.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" She grabs your wrist making you stop. You didn't turn around, you stayed rooted to the ground. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm sorry Mina," you pulled your wrist away from her and left. You felt guilty, she was your only friend and she felt betrayed. You left without an explanation.

=

"Y/n? You're here, did something happen?" Wooyoung read your expression.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as you replaced the sad look with a small smile.

"I'm great, I just didn't like the whole vibe there," you lied.

You removed the ruby crystal around your neck giving it to wooyoung, muttering a thanks. Alongside you removed the pendant that was tucked under your shirt. Wooyoung was shocked as you never took it off and you swore you never would.

You tucked the necklace into your pocket, taking a mental note to put it away when you get home.

Although you didn't accomplish your original mission, you did realize that it's always good to let go of something. Never let anything or anyone tie you down. You are still heartbroken, but you are sure you could get over it soon.

Of course, the siblings that stared at you through the window, mischievous smiles on their faces, will not let you live just yet.

[ringmyheart]

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood ���

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

[writerofblocks]

*sneaks this in* Bridget/Troy - things you said with no space between us (or) things you didn’t say at all

This was. From a long ass time ago. BUT ITS FINISHED NOW SO IM POSTING IT.

Sleepless in Stilwater

“Three.”

“Hmm?”

Troy held up three fingers. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in as many minutes. And I’d be okay with that if you weren’t, you know, doin’ seventy on a forty-five mile an hour highway.”

Bridget broke eye contact with the road long enough to give him a sidelong glare that would wither a lesser man. “I’m not the only one doing their best Fast and the Furious impression out there,” she irritably shot back. A sports car rushed past them with an ear splitting squeal that made Troy jump, and she gestured at it. “See?”

Troy sunk back into the leather seat of the [insert car model here], returning her glare with one of his own. “That’s not the point and you know it. The point is I’d rather not end up a red smear on the pavement because my wheel man fell asleep at the goddamn wheel.”

“Oh, is that all I-” Her mouth cracked open into another face-splitting yawn; she barely managed to hide it behind her hand. “-all I am to you? Your wheel man?”

“Four. And don’t give me that crap, you’re the one that called dibs on driving.”

“I only called dibs cause you drive like a grandma on a broken scooter.”

“You mean I drive the speed limit.”

Bridget ignored him. “Besides,” she said, swerving around a semi-truck sharp enough to make him grab at the handle above the passenger window, “I’ve got places to be after this. Julius called me about a-” she let out another yawn. “-about a storage place, said the Rollerz keep their best wheels there.”

A smirk crossed Troy’s face. He waited until Bridget’s attention was on him before he held up five fingers and wiggled them. It was worth it to see the way her eyebrows dropped into a sharp V before she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“Don’t need to say anything.”

The one finger swiftly flipped upward into giving him the bird as she returned her attention to the highway. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the highway this second,” she growled, though a smile playing at the corners of her lips undercut the hostile tone.

Troy chuckled, then settled back in his seat enough to look out the car window. Stilwater was a shithole on a good day, but the oranges, purples, and blues of sunset colored the world into something more palpable to take in. Light bounced off the towering buildings of Downtown, harsh edges and cold, reflective glass softening under the gentle touch of twilight. But you could only watch buildings whiz by for so long. His gaze, as it so often did in these rare quiet moments, returned to her.

As much as he bitched about it, there was one thing he didn’t mind about Bridget being the go-to driver. It allowed him time to just… take her in. Look openly, without other people seeing and giving him crap for being lovestruck. Without her giving him crap for being lovestruck, because even after the months they’ve been together she still shied away from open affection more often than not. She cuts the sentiment with a joke, or by teasing him, or some combination of both. He doesn’t mind it- he wonders sometimes if he’s a glutton for punishment, given his career path and choice of romantic partner, but he doesn’t mind being so. Not with her around.

So he looks at her. The way her eyelids keep fluttering slightly, only for her to stubbornly hold them back open. The dark circles he’d think were black eyes if they weren’t only on her lower eyelids. She’s tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, jiggling the leg not in charge of the pedals. Any motion to tell her body it isn’t time to sleep yet. He’d make a joke about looking in a mirror if seeing it didn’t bother him so much.

That was the downside of being undercover. You got real good at seeing things people tried to hide. He had to say something. He opened his mouth, and...

“For real, though. You look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

And of course something stupid came out. Miracle of miracles, she scoffed instead of chucking him onto the highway. “Bold move to question my sleeping habits. How many used coffee mugs are on your desk again?”

Troy chose to ignore her words. “Look man, just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “-go home. Take a shower or something. Get some food. You need a break, Bridge.”

Bridget’s face was impassive, staring straight forward as she shifted the car into the express lane. “Can’t. Julius-”

Enough of this. “Did he tell you to do it tonight?” he asked, cutting her off before she could restate whatever bullshit task Julius had given her to do on top of everything else he’d piled on her. For fuck’s sake, sometimes it felt like she was carrying the whole gang by herself in between the tasks Julius sent down the pipeline and the duties she’d taken on herself to perform.

The glare she gave him could melt permafrost. “No.”

“Then do it tomorrow when you’re fresh.”

“I’m fresh enough,” she bit out. “You’re worrying way too much-”

The words burst from his chest before he could vet them. “I’m worrying the right goddamned amount for someone watching a person he cares about take way more shit on than she needs to.”

Bridget’s eyes went wide, whatever she’d been about to say dying in her open mouth.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is some macho attempt to prove yourself or some shit, but you don’t have to do this. Slow down. Take care of yourself. Just- please.”

She was quiet for several minutes, eyes locked on the road as she slowed to match the speed of traffic. He’d almost given up on getting a response before she spoke again. “I won’t go to the storage place tonight. It’s-” She swallowed. “It’s late. Rollerz’ll be getting the cars out for races by now, there’s bound to be way more hanging around than during the day.”

He knows those justifications. Her saying he’s right without saying it directly. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. “Got anything else going on later?”

Manila folders scattered across a coffee table, a rapidly growing pile of cigarette stubs as he figures out the best way to ruin his friend’s lives-

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

When Bridget had first joined the Saints, Troy had thought her unreadable. It was easier now to read her once he knew what to look for. Her rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger- something self soothing. Bouncing her leg- buying time to think. The lift of her head to look at him directly- she was searching him, weighing his reaction. “Feel like staying over?”

Always. “If you want me to.”

The tension in Bridget’s shoulders dissipated, and she gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, that’s why I asked,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

===

Rain tapped an improv jazz rhythm on the glass of Bridget’s bedroom window, and Troy couldn’t sleep. Blame the cigarettes, the coffee, the crippling anxiety and paranoia. The cause ultimately didn’t matter, the effect was the digital clock on Bridget’s bedside table hit 2AM and he was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he originally lay down. Bridget, though. Bridget had been asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a moment of satisfying vindication.

He rolled over, resting a hand on her arm.

It was strange to see Bridget asleep. If Bridget was awake, she was moving- tapping her foot, shifting from side to side. She bounced her heels if a meeting went too long, rattling the table until he placed a hand on her thigh to get her to stop (among… other reasons). If she chose to talk, she talked with her whole body, her hands dancing in the air. Even when she was seated and still, a part of her still seemed to tremble with energy, anticipation and eagerness. Not now, though. Now she laid there, the rise and fall of her chest the only motion. Light drifted through the cracks in the blinds from the streetlight outside her window, resting softly on the freckles on her cheeks.

His hand traveled down her arm, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip bone. Bridget wasn’t a paper-thin waif by any stretch of the imagination, but without the bulk of her sweatshirt to fill out her usual silhouette, she looked… smaller. More vulnerable. Which was ridiculous, he’d seen what she could do with a gun- hell, forget a gun, he’d seen the havoc she created with her fists alone- but somehow. Somehow that veneer was stripped away in the hazy orange light of a half-dead lamppost bulb, and the only thing left was a tired twenty-one year old who needed a hell of a lot more sleep than she was getting.

Christ. She really was twenty-one, wasn’t she? The face she wore around the other Saints made her seem older than that. It was all harsh angles and stony silences, only a twitch of a smile or a slight furrow in her brow betraying the emotions running electric through her veins. The uncertainty there at the beginning had long since suffocated under a rap sheet he hated to tally up in his head. It was a thing with no remorse, and little room for mercy.

And yet that face was forgotten in her sleep. The ever present tension slackened, releasing that hardened shell and letting it fall away in favor of something softer. She denied the existence of that softness, but he knew. He was allowed to know, he realized, warmth settling in his chest at the thought. Of all people, she’d offered that gift to him.

And it’s a gift you’ll lose soon.

The thought cut a sharp line through the haze, frozen against the warmth of the moment. Troy stilled, his hand resting on her waist. Somewhere in between the light on her cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, he’d forgotten what would be waiting for them. That as much as he tried to dodge and delay, the day Chief Monroe decided it was time to pull the plug on the Saints was coming sooner than later- and Bridget, ambitious and unknowing, was only hastening that end.

His sigh was frayed, thin and trailing off into nothing. This relationship was never going to last forever. He’d known that going in, had willingly condemned them both to heartbreak, but it hadn’t mattered then. That future had drowned in the affection in her gaze. The warmth of her laughter. The spark of her lips on his. But now…

Troy cupped Bridget’s cheek, pressing his forehead gently against hers as he closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. He had to say it, just once. Even if she didn’t hear it- since she would never hear it- it needed to escape before it withered under his held tongue. It needed to exist, just for a moment, all his regrets pouring into that simple, weighted phrase.

At some point she’d wake up, either through him gently shaking her or her own merit. Either way she’d grouch at him for not waking her up sooner, blinking blearily at him in a hopelessly endearing way she’d punch him for if he ever mentioned it. She’d whip the covers off of both of them, laughing when he protests. Showers would follow, breakfast of some sort, and time would continue to march forward to that inevitable, heartbreaking point.

But that was a future they didn’t have to face yet. For now, they could stay like this- curling into each other, breath to breath and at peace.

For now, he’d save her a rude awakening.

[nalgenewhore]

anything and everything

elide x lorcan, modern au, sick fic/domestic fluff, word count: 1874

The clock at the back of his classroom showed that there was two minutes left until lunch. The history teacher knew he’d lost his students three minutes ago, and tossed his printed copy of the PowerPoint onto his meticulously organised desk. “Alright, guys, I think that’s enough for today. Pack up and get out of here, yeah?” 

The sounds of rustling paper and shuffling bags filled the room. Lorcan unplugged his laptop from the projector and clicked it off, pushing the cart back to its corner. He heard his grade twelves’ easy conversations and jokes as they filed out, bidding him good-bye. 

“Bye, Mr. S,” Evangeline called, waving as she walked out, “thank you!” 

“You’re welcome, Evangeline. Have a good day,” Lorcan replied. No one else was in his classroom, so he pushed in the chairs and picked up the stray pencils that had been left. 

He slid his laptop into his bag and slung the leather strap over his shoulder. Lorcan left the blinds down from when they’d been drawn for the video he’d shown and flicked the lights off before he closed and locked the door. 

His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked to the teacher’s lounge. Lorcan was the first there and he decided to call home, his phone in his back pocket.

As the phone rang, Lorcan grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit and rinsed it before he ate it.

His fiancée picked up after two rings and sounded even more congested and hoarse than she’d been in the morning, “Hello, love. How’s your day going?” Elide coughed loudly, the sound deep and from her chest, “I’m feeling so much better, honestly, baby. I think I’ll just pop in and teach my last few class–” 

“Lee, you're sick. You'll collapse before you get to the front gate and you know it,” he said, nodding to Rowan, who walked in with Aelin and Lysandra. Nesryn couldn’t have been that far behind them. 

Elide huffed, knowing he was right and hating it, “I’m not sick, I’m not even barfing! I’m just achy and I have a cough, I’m fine.” 

“You have the flu, Elide. You do not have the energy to teach two classes - stay home.” 

She muttered something and Lorcan could practically hear her eye roll. “Fine. I can do video calls anyway, bye-bye, L, love you!” 

“That is not what I meant, Elide,” he protested, but Elide hung up. Lorcan sighed through his nose and put his phone in his pocket once more. The rest of the apple was gone in two bites. 

From one of the tables, the blonde science teacher looked over at him, a bite of leftover risotto and pink salmon on her fork, “Was that our Ellie dear? How is she?” 

“Stubborn and petty,” Lorcan grumbled in good nature. He tossed his apple core into the compost bin, “I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Please don’t call me if you need help.” His colleagues laughed mockingly at his inconsiderate remark and Lorcan smirked, saluting them as he walked out. “Bye, guys. Have a good day.” He walked down the hall, waving and nodding to students he recognised. 

Lorcan passed two of his favourites, Luca and Evangeline. They stopped him to talk and they chatted about Luca’s upcoming debate and Evangeline’s English presentation. He wished them both luck and continued on, all but refusing to acknowledge any of his other colleagues. Lorcan didn’t have anything against them, save for a few, but he didn’t want to be dragged into a long conversation with them when his girl was home sick and miserable. 

Outside, it was raining, but light enough that it was more of a mist than any noticeable precipitation. Lorcan got into their old Volkswagen Jetta - the car that Elide had saved for during her last year of high school to buy - and pulled out of the parking lot, going slowly around the meandering students and teachers alike. 

Since he hadn’t eaten lunch yet and he had been dreading his tuna salad sandwich all day, Lorcan stopped by the local Blackbeak restaurant. He bought pierogies, borscht, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Knowing Elide loved them so, he added on an order of sweet, apple-filled piroshkis and sweet tea. 

Luckily, the wait wasn’t long and he tipped them well when they handed him the containers in two plastic bags, including a tray for their tea. Lorcan carried their food back to the car and put it on the passenger seat, carefully fitting the cups of tea in the cup holders. 

Lorcan got back in his seat and drove on, more slowly this time so the food would remain untouched. He’d tossed his phone onto the dash and it rang. He glanced over at it and saw Elide calling him. Since he was driving, Lorcan didn’t pick up and he would be home soon enough. 

He came to a stop at a red light and looked over at the text she sent him. 

princess: r u too busy to answer me cause ur with ur new WHORE. 

princess: dont even come home tn im so over ur disrespectful ass. smh. 🙄. cant believe i ever trusted a MAN. 

princess: bby im so hungry tell me what to get i cant decide 🥺 pls help me ill b so nice to uuuuuu ❤🖤🥰🥰😘 

Lorcan laughed and shook his head, driving on home. He pulled up in front of their townhouse a mere five minutes later. Carefully, Lorcan balanced everything and locked the car. He walked through the front gate and up the stone pathway. 

Somehow, he managed to carry everything and unlocked the front door. When he walked in, he heard someone’s long nails tapping across a laptop keyboard. Lorcan chuckled quietly and put his bags down. He hung up his jacket, put his keys in the silver dish next to Elide’s, and toed off his shoes. 

Lorcan walked down the hallway and passed the staircase, putting their food on the kitchen counter. Then, he rolled up the sleeves of his wool sweater and white shirt. He walked upstairs, “Lee? You in bed?” 

He passed their shared office and leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on his fiancée. Elide had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her dark hair pushed up in a messy bun. Her thick glasses were perched on the edge of her nose and when she looked up at him, Elide pushed them back up, “Oh, hi, love.” She looked back at her laptop and colour-coordinated lesson plan, still typing. “I didn’t know you were coming home, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Evidently I did because my fiancée refuses to rest,” he said, shoving off the door and walking in. She rolled her eyes and frowned. Lorcan walked around to her side and crouched, twisting her chair around, “Elide. You’re sick. Your students are not going to be affected if you take a day or two off, now please. Can you just get back in bed? For me?” 

She clicked her tongue and sighed, “That’s cheating. You can’t say it’s for you when you know I’d do anything for you.” 

Lorcan smirked and cupped her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone, “Just doing what I can.” He surveyed her, his eyes not missing a thing. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her eyes were tired. Her skin was paler and more pallid than usual, the only spot of colour on the tip of her nose. She was restraining herself, but Lorcan could see her shivering. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m… fine.” 

He arched a brow. Elide sighed through her nose and looked to the side. 

“Fine. I feel like shit. I’m tired and I have a headache and I’m so, so tired,” she whispered, tipping herself forward and leaning into him. “I hated that you left this morning. I wanted to be with you and… and let you take care of me.” 

Lorcan smiled softly and got to his feet, picking her up as well. Her head fell against his shoulder and he held her with one arm banded beneath her thighs. He cut off the camera and sent a bland message before signing out and turning it off. As he carried her out, Lorcan asked, “Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?” 

Elide shook her head, “No… I was sleeping.” 

“I got food. Blackbeak,” he told her, smiling when she gasped wondrously. 

“O-m-giness.” Elide said softly, dancing her shoulders around. “You’re the best, baby. Did you get piroshki? The- the sweet one. With apple.” 

“Mm-hmm,” he said, pushing her hair back again. “And pierogies, tea, sausage, and cabbage rolls. Everything, even soup.” 

“I love you so fuckin’ much, man,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Elide’s face was comfortably hidden in the crook of his neck. She could smell his cedar cologne, the lavender dryer ball on his sweater, and the sweetgrass he’d smudged with. “We should watch When Harry Met Sally.” 

Lorcan huffed a laugh through his nose and kissed the side of her head, “Yeah. Sally’s a spaz.” 

“And Harry’s an inconsiderate asshat,” Elide replied, squeezing her thighs around his hips. 

They crossed through the door of their bedroom and Lorcan set her down on their bed. He left her be, letting her manoeuvre into her little nest of blankets, quilts, and a duvet. 

He changed into sweatshorts and a hoodie with their university’s logo before going downstairs. On his way, he re-did his hair in some tiered, sloppy and loopy bun. 

In the kitchen, he played some random song from his phone and bobbed his head as he served them both food. 

Lorcan carried their plates and bowls back upstairs. Elide got up to help her when he got to their room. On the TV that opposited their bed showed the main menu of When Harry Met Sally. He laughed quietly and shook his head, sitting down beside her and getting comfortable. 

Elide hummed delightedly and pressed play from her phone. She took the tea first and drank it quickly, suddenly ravenous. Lorcan passed her water and medicine. Elide took it and ate her beet soup, sans sour cream. 

The movie played and Lorcan ate his pierogies, gently sipping on his own tea. 

Done first, Elide put her dish to the side and leaned into him. She mouthed the lines, her eyes slowly falling shut. Lorcan grinned and finished the cabbage roll before easing out from under her and taking their things back downstairs. 

He got her more citrus tea and went back upstairs. The flu-ridden woman woke up when he got in bed and resituated herself. 

“I got the vaccine, baby,” Elide muttered, her arms wrapped around his neck, “and I’m still sick. I’m anti-vax now. They’re hoaxes.” 

Lorcan sighed through his nose, still adoring her dramatics. “You can’t say that to your students, Lee. They believe anything.” 

The chemistry teacher smacked his chest, “They arent dumb! They’re just…” 

“Stupid,” Lorcan finished her sentence. “C’mon, I had a student who didn’t know Terrasen’s capital. He was born here, Elide.” 

She snorted and hid her face in his neck. “I love you.” 

“Forever and always, Lee.”

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them. omg. 

@mythicaitt​​​ @werewolffprince​​​ @schmlip-scribble​​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​​ @ladyverena​​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​​ @shyvioletcat​​​ @alifletcher2012​​​ @tswaney17​​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​​  @flora-and-fae​​​ @thesirenwashere​​​ @queenofxhearts​​​ @maastrash​​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​​ @cursebreaker29​​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​​ @b00kworm​​​ @hizqueen4life​​​ @silversprings98​​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​​ @minaidss​​​ @superspiritfestival​​​ @sanakapoor​​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​​  @thegoddessofyou​​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​​ @claralady​​​ @neonhellas​​​ @darlinminds​​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​​ @autophobiaxx​​​ @silversprings28​​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​​ @elriel4life​​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​​ @jlinez​​​ @ladywitchling​​​ @mariamuses​​ @darklesmylove​​ @adelzd-bookblr

[dreamescapeswriting]

Colourless ~ OT7 [Request]

↬↬↬Word count: 1.7k [It’s so short im sorry :( been having a really rough two weeks in my life im sorry! ]

↬↬↬Genre: Angst, sad, soulmateAU, ot7

↬↬↬Pairing: ot7 x reader

↬↬↬A/N: It’s really short I’m really sorry!

Namjoon was standing beside the rest of the boys as the rain hammered down above them, he'd always been the most sceptical around everything with you. You'd seemed too good to be true for any of them and he hadn't known how to trust that the soulmate trait was real. Even when the colour first came to him, 

He was in a rush to get to the studio for work, he'd spent too long trying to find clothes he thought would look okay. Since his whole world was in black and white he couldn't tell if the clothes looked okay or he was wearing a bright colour that made him stand out like a sore thumb. 

"Excuse me!" He said as he tried to push himself through the crowds of people gathering near the markets that morning. You were on the other side trying to push through to get to work and you were running late as it was. 

"Fuck," You whimpered as someone back into you knocking your glasses onto the floor and breaking them with their feet. You were going to have to go to work blind for the day, you got back up from the floor and someone grabbed onto your arms as they almost fell down on top of you. 

"Out of the way children!" Someone yelled pushing you and the person who was holding you out of the crowd and towards the back where you'd started. 

"Sorry, are you okay? You were on the floor." Namjoon said trying to check you over but as soon as you locked eyes together he began to notice something, colours were fading into his eyesight and he frowned. 

"What?" You questioned looking around you as he frantically turned his head around to look at everything going on around him. That was when you saw it, a rose bush was slowly starting to turn into the green colours you'd heard a lot about and then the single rose that was growing there turned into a bright red but it was the only thing changing for you. 

"We're soulmates?" He questioned and you turned to him then back to the bush wondering why you were only seeing partial bits of the colours.

"I erm - I only see- How much colour do you see?" You thought it would be an easier question to ask rather than explaining that you weren't seeing as much as he was.

"I see every colour...why?" His voice sounded defeated, he'd spent most of his life looking for you and now he'd found you you weren't excited to see him.

"I only see the bush, the rest of the world it's in black and white for me." You whispered not wanting to hurt his feelings but it was hurting him already. 

"My grandmother told me that people can have multiple soulmates...maybe I won't see it all until I meet them all?" You questioned, no one knew how the soulmate traits worked. They were just dumped onto you from the moment you were born and you were left to figure out everything for yourself.

"Maybe it takes a while here," You wrote your number down on the back of his hand still in a rush to get to work and he nodded at you not taking notice that the pen hadn't worked and you'd only written the last four digits of your number on his hand. 

"Call me!" You yelled running in the other direction of him and trying to get to work before you got fired for being late yet again. 

"Namjoon, if it's meant to be it, 'll be, it's been three weeks. I'm sure they'll show up again." Yoongi was giving him yet another lecture since Namjoon had done nothing but pout about you not being with him. But he couldn't stop his mind from going back to you and your smile. The way you stared up at him and the way he felt when he could finally see the colour in his life, all of the boys were jealous. Questioning him on everything he could see, what the colours were like and what they were wearing that day.

"Come in!" Jimin called at the door, they were all sitting in the studio waiting for their coffee to arrive. They were supposed to be working on some new songs but all of them were blocked on what to write, it was hard writing about the same black and white world all of the time. Namjoon had the inspiration but he couldn't seem to find the words to put down onto paper.

"I have seven drinks, one black iced coffee," Your eyes locked with Yoongi's and the wall behind him slowly began to turn into a soft blue colour. 

"S-Strawberry frap." You stuttered out turning to the next boy with blonde hair who was staring at you, confused as to why you were stuttering when his world filled with a sudden burst of colour. His clothes began to fade into colour for you and it continued right until you got to the sixth boy in the room. 

"Chocolate milk," Your voice came out as barely a whisper as the room filled with colour. Namjoon turned around to see what all the muttering was about when he saw you standing there, 

"Hi." He whispered and you dropped the bag you'd been carrying, you couldn't form words you were stuttering over everything you wanted to say and talk to them about. 

"You can see it now, can't you? All of it?" He questioned getting up from his desk, you back up against the door and covered your eyes. They were all talking over one another and it was overwhelming for you, why would the world give you seven soulmates?!

"Guys, one at a time," Namjoon said taking charge of the situation. He sat you down on the sofa in the room and you ran your hand along the black fabric trying to calm yourself down. 

"I'll go," You turned to the one you'd handed a black iced coffee too and he stuck out his hand, 

"I'm Yoongi." You nodded at him that you understood what he was saying and then it moved on until you were introduced to each of them. 

You'd all learnt from that day that one person could have seven soulmates since not all soulmates were of romantic interest, you all made it work. You began hanging out with them as friends until it started to develop into more with each of them and then you spent a day with them each. There was never anything weird about it though, you all respected the other's boundaries with each other and they all had set days with you. Jungkook let out a sniffle and Namjoon moved closer to the younger member and handed him a tissue from the packet in his pocket. 

"It's not fair," He grumbled at Namjoon as they all stood together crowded under umbrellas looking down at the gravestone. Your name was engraved there with your favourite quote,

"They were too young Namjoon," Yoongi told him as he laid down a bouquet of roses on the ground. They'd made it their mission to come out here once a week to make it easier to deal with the loss that they had all shared. He could still remember the day they all found out what happened. Jimin still blamed himself for it all when it had nothing to do with him, he wasn't there when it happened.

They weren't even at home, all of them were on tour having the time of their lives. Jimin had been the last one to talk to you that night and he'd told you to lock your door. You lived in a shady part of town that none of them trusted but they were in the process of asking you to move into their place, it was highly secured and they knew they could relax with knowing you were there safely. 

Yoongi was the first one awake as usual and he hadn't noticed that everything was in black and white until he reached his laptop and the photo he had of you and him as his background was in black and white. The glass of coffee he was holding smashed against the floor alerting everyone on the tour bus that something was wrong, 

"What is it!?" Jin panicked before he realised everything was once again in greyscale and all of the bright and happy colours had been sucked out of the air as though they'd never been there. 

"We have to go home," Namjoon said calmly trying not to assume the worst but he already knew what it meant. Once your soulmate died your world went back to the black and white and so did the boys, 

"Namjoon-" Taehyung tried to say something but his voice broke as he started crying at the thought of losing you.

All of them found it hard to move on from you but there wasn't any moving on. It was always going to be you for them even if someone did come along to bring a small amount of light it was never going to be you. You were the one that brightened up their days with or without the colour. You never failed to make them laugh whenever they were having a bad or stressful day. You were always there to make them feel better and inspire them and just as fast as you came into their life you left all the same.

"We need to get home," Namjoon whispered to the boys, if they didn't get home they would start getting colds and sick and he could never forgive himself. They all slowly made their way back towards the car that was waiting for them in the car parking lot. They were never going to be the same again and they knew that but they had to at least try and move on, or get on with everything going on within their lives though nothing would be the same without you there, the colour of you helping them with everything. 

The songs hadn't been the same and neither had anything else in their lives, they all collectively agreed that it felt like the fun and love for everything had been sucked out of it all leaving nothing behind for them except for the colourless world.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @lyoongx @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[gwoongi]

best years

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: best friend au, bff-to-lovers au, fluff, angst, guk is pining rating: general words: 2.6k warnings: its a short little fic, sort of like one chunk of a big chocolate bar and im gonna slowly feed u one chunk at a time until you’re sick and full a/n: a squint into the mind of bff jeongguk who will star in an eventual “idol best friend” series that i routinely dream about but have always felt it disrespectful to write about but at the end of the day everything i write is fiction and jeongguk would probably be less offended by a “canon divergence bff au” than he would reading my drug addicted rockstar au so :-) read it & weep folks

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

Jeongguk was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that. It was risky taking any step out of his house at any moment, even on the days where it was pouring outside; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the shrubs in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse as he booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Jeongguk takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face. For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR, and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the member of BTS who didn’t give a damn when the ‘real’ reasons for travel were taken away.

But Jeongguk thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in Manchester, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures. You were at University now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally woke up next to months before. It had been four months since Jeongguk had seen his true best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.” Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses rested on the end of his roundish nose. He led Jeongguk out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Jeongguk smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Jeongguk. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road going one way only, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Jeongguk’s still playing that sentence on a loop. He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. A man stands in the doorway, a cigarette out of his mouth and ash dropping to his toes bare in sandals. It smells like doughnuts, and weed, and he smiles brightly. He’s missed the UK, and how unbelievably shockingly awful it is when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of London online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only became a fan three months ago. And yeah, I figured. Finally, I understood why all the white girls studying Korean here wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Jeongguk frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy on Twitter when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Jeongguk until the words die out. “Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours...it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach flip, kind of like butterflies. These butterflies are sour, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Jeongguk is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister. You’ve never been his sister, even when you were part of his family growing up. There were times you came to all of his Korean family events, the times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different to that, you both knew it but never acknowledged it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice, big and pretty-skinned, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Jeongguk remembers looks a lot like your Dad’s back in the day. Might be the same, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Jeongguk, but the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here, he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.” He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were fifteen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep hidden and secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left as Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the 99p store, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Jeongguk manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down. As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person- white walls and a bed set that’s white with a peony pattern. Above your desk, Jeongguk recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at University who Jeongguk always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his neck at a strange angle against the wall your bed is literally attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the Fleetwood Mac song ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Jeongguk hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race. Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and...and, then what?

Maybe you didn’t even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Jeongguk was in Korea and you were still at home, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Jeongguk was burdensome. Worse, maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Jeongguk teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause in the room, and Jeongguk cocks his head with his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him. Suddenly, there’s small but quick thuds across the carpet and Jeongguk feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling as you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Jeongguk’s eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape in his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Jeongguk absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Jeongguk feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Jeongguk rises up to a sitting position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when you’re next to nothing away, Jeongguk wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, tightly hugging you.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck. Jeongguk smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds Jeongguk of cabbage patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jetlag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jetlag, Jeongguk realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Jeongguk kisses behind your earlobe, and just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Jeongguk was a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this. You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Jeongguk feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8. Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop- it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid's bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the confusion as he moves the hair that's across your face around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk convinces the role of casual to perfection and bites back a sour taste when he notices you’re the same. Casual, unmoved, maybe even like it didn’t mean a thing.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, Guk, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but...Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean...the guys know I’m here. Hoseok drove me to the airport with Jimin.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. Girls will be girls.”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by it-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“Was growing it out,” Jeongguk replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Jeongguk dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Jeongguk’s underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle. The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Jeongguk even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you. That could be why Jeongguk feels the way that he does, why this confusion wraps around his body and traps him. Jeongguk knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Jeongguk knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. JEON JUNGKOOK GOES TO UK TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND...BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT BTS JUNGKOOK IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s how he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Jeongguk might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant spending one more day with you.

Jeongguk’s got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to Korea with more regrets than he came with, and for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth. Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be known on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Jeongguk doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. One tries to escape when you hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease you didn’t mention it. He wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy it.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and he’ll have to be patient.

[undergrounddweller89]

NOTE : THIS IS A SPIES IN DISGUISE AU, WALTER IS THE CRIMINAL MASTER MIND AND KILLIAN IS THE SCIENTIST

THIS DEFINITELY CONTAINS SEXY TIMES

Not well written though probably and I tend to rarely go through my work to look for mistakes.

Despite Killian being kidnapped and handcuffed EVERY THING IS CONSENSUAL... Tristan is crazy obsessed with Beckett so he's very happy.

Now you've had your warning you read this instead of scrolling past that's on you, lemon is a tag used for stuff like this but if you feel like there are other tags I need to use please do tell me!)

The bag was stuffy, head phones covered his ears, they'd knocked off his glasses in their struggle to capture him, he could barely see without them.

Now his hands were cuffed behind his back, a hand on each upper arm, honestly Tristan was terrified, the car ride seemed a life time, though realistically it was only ten to fifteen minutes long.

He'd pleaded saying he was a no body just a scientist the agency threw in the corner and that no one ever took him seriously.

He was hunched, trying to tuck his head into his shoulders, so this was how he was going to die.

He felt every bump of the car and turn, trying to map out where he was going but he didn't recognise this route, usually he rode every where on his bicycle, deep blue with a silver bell and a basket on the front to pick up dinner on his way home...

Home where he could research the Criminal Master mind Walter Beckett ...to a near unhealthy obsession...alright it was unhealthy when you imagined him pushing you back against the table parting your thighs, fucking you and making you look at him by holding your head with his clawed hand....

Fuck was he going to die thinking about Walter, a man who didn't even known he existed...well he had no one, nothing living to care about...he might as well think of someone who made him happy even if only in his fantasies before he died right.

He was pulled from the car where he tried kicking at his handlers, Tristan didn't get very far though as one of them punch his gut winding him, he was wheezing as he was taken out of the vehicle.

"You know he's gonna kill you for that right."

The first handler smacked the second on the back of the head

"Only if this limp dick tells him, he's too much of pussy to squeal."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, but Im not covering your ass."

He was dragged through the facility, Tristan refused to make it easy to carry him and went limp.

Both handlers groaned, fuck, great a difficult one, well the first wasn't going to risk hurting him into compliance and the second knew he was on thin ice, if that punch had bruised him their boss was literally going to kill him.

Other workers watched as they went by, another two carried Tristans legs who now tried to struggle again, what the hell was going on!

He was sat in a chair with ease, after all their boss was right there, the workers didn't dare handle him as if he were anything less than a handle with care package with fragile taped all over him.

"Well are you going to take that off him, it's a little hard for dramatic entrances when he can't even see me."

"Yes sir, right away."

The bag was pulled off swiftly with the headphones clattering to the floor.

Tristan squinted, everyone looked like blurs, he could see faces only as different coloured splodges, his hair sticking up in different angles, shoulders aching now, he still sat up right, heart racing

"Where are his glasses?"

Tristan turned to where he heard the man speak, it was cold, commanded respect...familiar but no it couldn't be...

"Sebastian, where are his glasses?"

"I ah, James you see knocked them off in the struggle and-"

A metal arm, supporting four claw digits at it's end clasped his face

"What did I tell you about people with glasses, remove them, keep them what Sebastian."

He had brought the man to his knees holding so tightly Sebastian could feel his skull on the verge of cracking, he let out a cry as he managed to finish the sentence

"Safe!"

"Oh good you can listen to orders, now James..."

He'd let go of Sebastian and beckoned over his other crew member, Tristan knew this voice but it couldn't be him, he must still be disorientated.

"James, what have I told you about harming what belongs to me."

He said softly, curling his his claws around James's tie, Sebastian stepped back, well he had warned his coworker and with a snap and flick of his wrist the tie had been pulled so hard and tight the man's neck had been snapped.

"He had trouble following orders, first few times is understandable, you're settling into this new life but after five years it should not be that hard."

Tristan wished he'd had his glasses because if this was Walter Beckett he would have just witnessed one of Becketts trade mark moves and yes maybe would have gushed like a fan boy.

He was going to pretend it was him until he could see at the least and imagine he was kidnapped by Thee Walter Beckett.

He listened to him calling in clean up crew and for someone to bring up the glasses, his shape coming in closer and closer, it had to be him, the silver blurred limb was on his left, the hair colour.

"Awww poor baby..."

The younger man cooed.

Tristan tried very hard not to lean into his touch when his hair was stroke back and felt the Claws against his scalp

"Don't worry now, my useless men have been dealt with, come on now look up at me."

He didn't exactly give Tristan a choice as he place a claw under his chin

"See, now Mr Mcford I know I have my fans, the ones who do their fanart, their fictions whatever you will, I keep an eye on anyone who searches my name out of curiosity..."

He tapped his nose

"You Mcford like clock work will watch videos that have only the briefest flash of me, pour over articles, fictions..."

He smirked tracing one long metal claw along his jaw

"Reader x Walter Beckett, but you got tired of them, skinny little me always being pinned, submissive, no, no you wrote your own, named yourself Killian, nice name by the way, where I owned you, laid you back and made sure you knew who you belonged to."

Tristan was red, he was so fucking red and wanted the bag back on his head

"But Im not here to embarrass you, you're actually a good writer and it was the first one I ever enjoyed myself to."

Tristan wanted to implode, die right there, hearing Beckett had fucking masturbated to his little story, he let out a whine then hung his head, trying to hide how much that effected him.

The crew came up and pulled the body from the room and handed Walter the item he'd requested

"Face me now, unless you prefer being half blind."

Beckett held his face with his human hand, finger tip tracing a cheek bone, my they were sharp weren't they, what a pretty scientist.

Placing the glasses on, small lights flickered then settled.

"They read your eyes and the lenses adjust to the prescription you need."

Walter explained now casually sitting on Mcford's lap, an arm around the back of his neck.

"I'll cut to the chase, as I said we check everyone who even so much as types my name out of curiosity and when I found out you were working for the agency that has reaaaally caused a lot of problems in my life I researched you."

Tristan was staring, no way did Walter not feel the protruding problem down below, you would literally have to be either dead or have no feeling in your body to not notice that, he was still, he listened to him, was he having a wet dream, it had to be a dream right?

"Besides my uh Internet history...what...what did you find out."

"Oh you know, that you're an under appreciated scientist who came up with designs so dangerous they had to lock them away...and I may have slightly stolen them, now while I could personally and am the only qualified person here to build such delicious technology...."

He slipped his hand under Tristans lab coat, slowly rubbing his palm against his chest and smirking at the shakey breath and the way Tristan adjusted his hips, oh he could certainly feel that reaction

"I have an evil empire to run...I need you Tristan, I want you..."

He leaned in closer, lips nearly at his.

Mcford whined, fuck he was close Walter hadn't even done anything but the raised brow and smirk on Becketts face told him he could feel him twitch and gasped as the hand that'd been on his chest traveled down a finger tip teasing the head of his cock through his pants.

"How do you feel about working for me Tristan, build your machines and what ever else comes to mind, I need someone as competent as myself..."

Walter kneaded him slowly, to the point the slow pace was painful, his mouth was open and another ragged breath left him, this had to be a wet dream a really, vivid wet dream, please don't let his alarm go off...he pressed against his neck, forehead on his shoulder as Walter stroked the back of his neck with metal Claws, cool against his flesh.

Even if he was awake, of course his answer was yes....

"We could even build something together, I'm sure you'd just love to see me work..."

Beckett leered.

Walter was so warm, he was here, touching him, fucking touching him, dragging it out and making him nearly beg and he loved it.

"Yes..."

Tristan panted, lifting his hips trying to get more friction, he still had his handcuffs on he couldn't reach out and touch the man he wanted, his wrists struggling instinctively to part.

"Look at me and say it, Tristan."

That purr went through Mcford's entire being, lifting his head whimpering, biting his lip, he loved the tease, feeling so close to the edge and having Walter deny him...he begged to some god out there that Walter would finish it at least, it was so intense, he knew his clothes were stained with precum, Beckett seemed to enjoy reminding him he knew it was there by playfully tapping a finger over the tip of his cock where the damp patch was.

"Yes...I'll work for you....I have mmmphn wanted to since I ahh first saw you... Oh my god..."

Walter smiled, watching him, listening to him, oh how blue his eyes looked when his cheeks were this flushed, absolutely gorgeous.

"Oh Tristan there is no god, only me and my loving hands."

He returned, unbuckling Tristans belt and reaching in, blushing a little himself as he watched Tristans eyes nearly roll up, his head falling forward.

Tristan watched as Walter finished him off how desperately he wanted to hold onto him, press fingers into his back, he couldn't remember the last time he came this fucking hard or if he'd ever...he was speechless...breathless and fuck he'd made a mess of them both.

He was putty in Walters hands, feeling a claw lift his head again, moaning softly still, his body was tingling all over

"Welcome to the team Killian."

Beckett said sweetly before leaning in and kissing him.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!

Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)

He should have seen it coming.

The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).

The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.

When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.

Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.

If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.

If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.

He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.

From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.

Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.

They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.

When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.

They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.

Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.

And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head

“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”

At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,

He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.

He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger

There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.

Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.

He won’t ever see Duck again.

He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.

“‘Drid!”

Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.

“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”

“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”

Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.

“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”

“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”

“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”

“You got the field kit?”

Aubrey tosses it to Duck.

“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”

Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.

“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”

Indrid nods weakly.

“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”

Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,

“We need something for your mouth, right?”

“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.

“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”

Indrid just manages a thumbs up.

It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.

“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”

“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”

Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.

“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”

Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”

“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”

Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.

Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.

“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”

Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.

“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.

“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”

Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.

“Done.”

--------------------------------------------------

Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.

“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.

“How did you know to come look for me?”

“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”

“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”

It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.

“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”

“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.

“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”

“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.

“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”

Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.

“Come to bed?”

“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”

“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”

Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.

“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”

“God I fuckin hope not.”

“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”

“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”

Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.

“You’re right, my love. It is.”

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

ooh ask day! are you working on any of your own writing at the moment? what excites you about it? is your writing similar to your prompts in any way? or do the prompts fulfill something else for you?

mainly im working on getting my first novel published, which you can read about HERE. otherwise, the sequel, an adult fiction project, and an urban fantasy type YA about a town called florida. in florida. Florida, florida.

Florida project, working title BORDERLINE, is the most in line with my general prompt vibe here. a little cosmic horror, bent reality, just generally odd.

I never write stuff based off the prompts, but I DO write prompts based off my own stuff, very occasionally. for me, writing prompts is like scales for a musician. keeps my brain well oiled.

*still taking asks, no requests please*

anyway, ive been working on Florida project a lot lately. have an excerpt:

Backpage:

Lin O’Leary was born and raised in the town of Florida, Florida, tucked away into a corner of the state’s forgotten coast. All the locals know Florida is a strange place, rumored to stand on a borderline, where the veil is thin and mysterious forces wander alongside the human population. The daughter of Irish and Mexican immigrants, Lin knows you can only find trouble if you go looking for it, and like the rest of Florida’s residents, lives comfortably alongside the supernatural. This is before Momoko Kasahara disappears into thin air, frightening the town of Florida into a new, ultra-cautious existence. Five years after Momo’s disappearance, Lin is seventeen, a highschool dropout now working at a convenience store, her once vibrant town still plagued by fear. The days drag by, mundane as they come in Florida, occasionally punctuated by unpleasant visits from Bo Kasahara, brother to Momo and full time asshole. Then, one fateful late shift, Lin sees the missing Kasahara twin standing in the aisles, gone as quickly as she appeared. Meanwhile, a stranger arrives from California, claiming to be a paranormal investigator hellbent on uncovering the mysteries of Florida, and suddenly Lin is faced with a choice. Be smart and keep her head down, or dive headlong into the strange mist that so often covers Florida, to rescue Momo Kasahara, and return her town to the way she remembers it.

1. 100% humidity feels like breathing underwater.

L I N

Florida ate Momoko Kasahara on the most miserable day of the year, and washed her down with a thunderstorm. A lot of other important things happened that day, but Momo’s disappearance overshadowed them all. Momo was the coolest girl in our class. She had shiny black hair that ran down to her waist. She liked to wear a different flavor of lip gloss every day of the week, and could sing in Japanese. I was on my way home from the beach when I saw the police cars in her driveway, and her twin brother sitting on the porch, painted purple in the twilight. 

He shook his head, at me, slow, and all the sound seemed to drain out of the world. The flashing police lights distorted his face, as bright white clouds passed too quickly above us. The whole scene drove a stake of wrongness hard into my chest. Sometimes even now, I dream about it. Bo and I watching each other. The dead silence. The purple light. The too white clouds. And Momo, eaten.  For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my own town. 

My name is Lin O’leary. I live in Florida, Florida, a nothing sort of place crammed into an extra forgotten corner of the state’s already forgotten coast. Some days I can forget about Momo, and everything that happened in the hours before she vanished. Heff says I’m good at keeping my eyes closed, even when they’re open. 

I really wish he were right. 

2. Cloudy with a chance of hotdogs (haunted).

J U L I E N

I was standing in front of the worst building I had ever seen. Slab grey and full of sharp edges, additions had been slapped onto every side until it resembled an impossible puzzle piece. The front windows were crowded with signs for cold beer and hot food, but the glass itself was opaque. It was a convenience store from hell, a collection of stationary parts so nonsensical I was worried it might grow a few new alcoves if I blinked. Above the door, an unintelligible sign in complicated neon cursive flashed electric blue. There was a neon clock too, flickering wildly, just striking twelve.

I must have walked halfway across town, and as far I could tell this was the only place that sold food at all, let alone past three in the morning. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My stomach was a mess, and haunted convenience store hot dogs could only make it worse. I fished my phone out of my pocket, but the little service I had was, like the midnight clock above me, barely clinging to existence, my map application nothing more than a collection of beige squares. There was no one around. The sky was intensely dark, a pitch black blanket of clouds. Water hung thick in the air, the night time street so quiet I could almost hear beads of sweat sliding down my already slick face. No, there was nothing for it. I needed directions. 

The bell above the door made a strange, flat sound as I pressed inside. If the building was weird from the outside, that was nothing to its interior. The shelves, tall and numerous, had been arranged like maze walls. The overhead lights were blinding, stark white, and every other tile on the floor was mismatched. Some were squares of carpet. The only thing really visible from the entrance was the register, a fortress made of dark wood and surrounded by lottery advertisements. Behind the counter, a girl was reading something intently. As I got closer, I saw it was the back of a box of oatmeal.

“Hi,” I said, adjusting the duffel bag that had been crushing my left shoulder for an hour. 

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up. She had thin black hair, pin straight and chin length. Her skin was a warm, golden brown. Her shirt said something in miniscule writing, but my glasses were a little foggy, so I would have had to practically press my face to her chest to read it, which didn’t seem like a great first impression.

“Can you help me? I’m looking for the Fahrenheit Motel. I think it’s supposed to be around here.” 

Finally, she glanced at me. 

“It’s just around the corner. See the glasses store across the street? Go straight past that and make the second left, you’ll run right into it.” 

She pointed out the window, and I realized they were one way. 

“Who built this place?” I asked. 

She shrugged. 

“We’ve had a lot of owners. Everyone adds something new.”

There was something off about her. Like we were talking, but mentally she was still 

reading the box of oatmeal. 

“I’m Julien,” I said, sticking out a hand. She raised her eyebrows before taking it. 

“Lin,” she said, with another small nod. 

Her face was round, but her features were knife sharp. I wondered what she looked like angry. Maybe that was a really weird thing to think. 

Not wanting to ask for a second set of directions, I wandered around the store for thirty minutes before returning to the counter with a gallon of chocolate milk and a bag of seaweed flavored potato chips. 

“I can’t believe you have these. I didn’t think you could find them outside of California.”

Instead of replying, Lin held up the chocolate milk. 

“There’s no fridge in your room at the Fahrenheit. You know that right?”

“I was told on the phone… ” I started.

“There’s a fridge, but it’s in the lobby, communal. Kimmy’ll drink this.” She gave the milk a little shake before scanning it. “Just warning you.”

“Thanks,” I said, as she stuffed my things in a smiling shopping bag. 

I paused on my way out.

“Goodnight,” I said, “Or, good morning I guess.” 

Lin stared at me, then glanced at the box of oatmeal and back. 

“Morning,” she said, with a sigh.

***

I followed Lin’s directions, and wound up at last in front of a long, low building sporting a vacancies sign. Even in low light I could see about a hundred sad looking plastic flamingos had been stuck all over the lawn, the bushes, even the gravel path that led to the front door. I had to pick my way around them on approach. 

There was no one at the front desk. The reception area was lit only by the green blue light coming from an enormous fishtank that didn’t seem to have any fish in it. As I approached the counter, I noticed someone had left the key to my room out for me, next to a scrap of paper bearing the wifi password. I picked up the key, old and brass, then watched the fishtank for a second, before turning around and experiencing heart failure. 

A very old woman with wiry black hair was standing there in her nightgown, arms crossed and frowning at me. She didn’t apologize for nearly sending me to my grave. 

“I’m up. I can check you in properly,” she said, shuffling past me. “I’m Kimmy, but you can call me Miss Kimmy. You got ID?” 

I dug it out of my wallet while she opened a dusty guest book. 

“The reservation is for Julien True,” I said. 

Miss Kimmy glanced at the ID I had just handed her. 

“That’s not what this says.”

“I know. It’s a stage name,” I admitted, “everything else is correct.”

She raised an eyebrow to herself, but didn’t ask any more questions. 

“Now listen,” she said finally, shutting the guest book with a snap. “I’ll be honest, there’s not much to do around here. There’s a bus runs to the state forest during the day, and the beach isn’t going anywhere. If you’re hungry that’s too bad for the most part, unless you feel like walking down to Morton’s.”

“Is that the weird looking building? One way windows?”

“That’s the one. Midnight Morton’s, never closes. This late at night you’ve got Lin at the counter, nice girl.” 

I don’t know what I would have called Lin, but it probably wasn’t ‘nice girl’.

“Thanks,” I said, glancing around for the hallway that led to my room.

I bid Miss Kimmy goodnight and lugged my things to Room 7, at the very end of the dark hall. Inside was simple, but stunningly clean, which I had in no way expected. The bed had a sunken spot in the middle, and there were a lot of paintings of tropical fish on the walls. Home sweet home. I changed into pajamas, and took a huge swig of chocolate milk before glancing at my duffel, still full of equipment. 

It could wait. I was exhausted, sweaty, and more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. 

3. Welcome to my grocery store how may I assist you.

L I N

“I want to drop out of high school,” said Roach. 

We were sprawled out on separate tartan sofas, both angled towards the ancient television. It was after midnight, and the only light in the room was coming from the nature channel.

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re not even in high school.”

Roach was a weird little girl. Eleven years old, she wore oversized thrift store t-shirts, and big chunky glasses, and cut her own hair. I loved her the most in this world.

“Yeah, but when I get there, I want to drop out. You did.”

I sighed. 

“You’re smarter than me. You have to finish school and work in a laboratory anywhere but here. Those are the rules.” 

Roach crossed and uncrossed her skinny legs without arguing. I knew she just wanted to hear me say she was smart. 

We continued to watch the nature channel in silence. A documentary on the arctic ocean was playing, which I found devastatingly boring, but Roach was clearly glued to. I could hear dad snoring upstairs, a pleasant sort of nightly white noise, and tuned out completely until Roach clapped an inch from my face. 

“Jeez,” I started, pushing her hands away.

“You were way out there. It’s freaky.”

I had been practicing my zone out since I was Roach’s age. On my best day, I could have an entire conversation without hearing one word the other person said. Call it a life skill.

“You’re doing it again!” said Roach. “Don’t you have work soon?” 

That snapped me out of it. I looked at my watch. 

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” 

I rolled off the couch as Roach sat back down with a huff. The arctic documentary was ending, and she picked up the changer to scroll through a long list of similar recordings. Roach loved animals, all of them, even fish that ate your insides, and grubs, and parasitic worms. Especially parasitic worms. 

“Don’t stay up too late okay?” I said, tugging gently on her massive ponytail. Roach got dad’s curly, reddish brown hair. I got mom’s.

“Mmhm.”

I glanced in the hall mirror to see if there was any food on my shirt. Then I stepped into the mosquito ridden, muggy Florida night, and headed to my shift.

***

You might be thinking: where does a seventeen year old high school dropout work after midnight? And the thrilling answer is: the grocery store, sort of.

You might be thinking: what? 

But that’s Morton’s. 

The sliding doors opened smoothly for me upon arrival, which was always a good omen. I straightened the newsstand and went to look for Barry.

My manager, a small, Dominican man who loved to party, was in the produce section with a woman I assumed was his latest girlfriend. He was chucking the moldiest vegetables into an open trashcan.

“Our fresh produce is a travesty,” I said. “When was the last time someone bought an eggplant here?”

“I’m thinking of moving the veg,” said Barry, “they don’t like the energy in this corner.”

Barry was constantly moving things around the small labyrinth that was Morton’s. At least once a month he would take an hour long stroll from shelf to shelf, while I wrote down what was going where. I made a new map of the store for every big move.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked, as Barry followed me to the register, bag of moldy vegetables in hand.

“Dancing,” said his date, with an endearing round of jazz hands, as Barry broke into a stationary samba while he gave me a list of stuff to work on. He treated me to his own enthusiastic jazz hands, and a few notes of a Juan Luis Guerra song as he samba’d in the direction of the door. As it swung shut behind them, I let the intense silence of Morton's wash over me. The fluorescent lights hummed gently. The food sat well behaved in slightly crooked rows. I turned my brain down to its lowest setting, and consulted my list.

...

[wavbleu]

Chris Evans: Daddy issues

Kinks: Older men, rough, praise, slight degradation,  Size kink, practically anything somebody with daddy issues would enjoy.

( i decided to smush daddy issues along with the babysitter plot) also, if you want a lengthy slow burn story read all the way through, if you just want the scene😉😉😉 just scroll down and look for the sign " *~*"

oh big daddy evans, may i please suck yo big juicy monstrous cock😩‼️

~~~~

~Backstory~

This was your first babysitting gig, you never thought you'd have to resort to watching a bunch of little kids for money (As you never really liked them) but you desperately needed the money for rent. You already work 2 jobs, babysitting was just quick and easy money for you.

You live with your unfortunate drunken father in a small 2 bedroom apartment, you've been living there for years, for so long that the appliances are starting to go rusty. Perhaps it is better than living  out in the streets, but its no looker. Your father doesn't have a job and doesnt want one either, always refuses to help out around the house because its "A womans job."; Or even be there for you; He barely even deserves the title 'Dad' .

It hasnt always been like this though, your mother left him to go pursue her held-back dreams while you were 8, and left you to stay with your dad, that was her biggest mistake yet. You havent seen her since. Now he just sits on his ass all day drinking away all his problems and complaining about yours.

thats until a single father asks for you to babysit his kid...

~~~

You slowly drove through the gated neighborhood and observed all the beautiful houses and tall hills, you were in absolute awe. You could only dream living in a place this wealthy. "The pay  here must be amazing." first thing popping into your mind as you looked at all the Lambo's and Ferrari's.

You drove around the block searching for the designated house, "210"

"205..206...208....210!" You mumbled to yourself cheerfully, finally finding the house, you pulled into the drive way and put your car in park.

You took a moment of silence to prepare yourself for a long night of loud screaming and toddler tantrums, breathing in.. exhaling out. After a couple of breaths and positive affirmations, you finally gathered the courage and patience to get out of the car, when you got out; you were introduced to the beautiful sight of the house the man lived in, it looked even greater up close.

It was absolutely breathtaking, you felt obligated to take at least a second to examine and admire the outstanding beauty of the home, it was probably the best on the block. You couldn't even bother to guess how much the house was worth as you estimated its probably worth more than you as a person and everything you own x10.

You slowly walked up to the front door, still admiring your surroundings.

You hesitantly knocked and stood back, fiddling with your fingers and jacket, hoping that the owner heard your soft knocks.

You observed the fine wooden door before you, looking at the stained glass above it. Fascinated , you'd slowly graze your fingers upon the engraved designs on the wooden door. Tracing your finger on all the swirls and squiggles. "Wow.." You'd exhale in captivation.

You heard the front door loudly swing open, snapping you of your trance like state, also making you jump back a little.

"Oh-" you'd gasp before your breath fell to an immediate halt, your eyes were met with a tall well-built man, with a well groomed black suit on and a long black tie to match. His hair was dark brown, slightly gelled to the side.

You felt your palms start to sweat and your knees start to tremble just looking at him.

"Hi?" You'd mumble slightly intimidated by his attractiveness , giving a small wave and awkwardly scratching your shoulder.

"Hello little one" He smiled down at you, he noticed how nervous and shy you were, and wanted to simmer you down. But it only made it worst.

"Im the babysitter." You'd shakily say, feeling dominated just by being in his presence.

Immediately, the man took interest and began slightly leaning on the door, a subtle smirk forming on his face.. "Really? i thought you were the muffin man." You'd both let out a little laugh.

"Sorry that was a dad joke." ,"But im aware of that already." , "Whats your name again?" He looks down at you awaiting your answer. "Oh uh, Y/n" You muttered.

"Y/n." ," You have a gorgeous name." He said with a deeper , more husky voice. "Thank you." You felt your face heat up and your heart thump. "Anytime."

He'd let out a light chuckle at your cluelessness, "You know y/n, there's a doorbell right there." , he jokingly pressed it, the doorbell let out a loud ring.

"your lucky i was near or wouldn't have heard your soft knocks and would've left you standing out here in the cold"

"We wouldn't want that would we?"  He said, with that deep husky voice again.

"No, i really would not."  You would clear your throat and trembling, finding yourself mesmerized by his voice. "Come in silly girl." He invites, holding the door open wide enough for you to enter, then closing it behind you.

The interior didn't fail to amaze you with its beauty either, this home was drop dead gorgeous inside and out.

"May i?" He stops you and offers to take off your jacket, you nod; stepping in front of him and spreading your arms back.

He slowly slid your jacket off your arms, not trying to be too rough on you since you were smaller than him.

Once the jacket was off, he'd plaster a charming smile on his face and say "There you go." then going to go hang it on the coat rack. "Im guessing you want to take off your shoes yourself." He joked.

Although you'd love for him to give you that feeling again, you figured itd be weird for him to touch your feet.

"Haha Yea." You giggle, beginning to untie your shoelaces, "Thats alright, when your shoes are off put them next to those shiny black ones"

"And when your done, take a seat in the living room over there; make yourself at home." He pointed to the white chair with a navy blue pillow sitting on top of it.

You slid off your shoes and put it next to the large pair of black shiny shoes. "His feet is so much bigger than mines"  His feet were twice the size of yours, you'd take a deep gulp, as your shoe made of up half of his entire foot.

You got up and slowly navigated your way to the white chair, admiring the interior on the way, and hesitantly took a seat. Still somewhat cautious of your surroundings.

The living room was covered with legos , cars, babydolls and toys, with a loud kids show displayed on tv, the brightness was up so high that the colors from the tv made you feel like you were gonna go blind. "Shit." Youd mumble before going to shied your face, You helplessly rummaged for the remote with no luck.

Chris saw what was happening as he was passing by came to help.

"I apologize." Chris apologizes, grabbing the remote and shutting the tv off. "He always turns up the brightness after i tell him not too, hes gonna make himself go blind." , "Are you ok?" He asked with a worrisome voice, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Yes im perfectly fine, atleast i hope so." You'd rub your eyes trying to get your normal sight back.

Apologetically, he bent down to the sofas level and handed you the remote with a smile. "Go crazy, we have netflix and disney +" , "Thank you sir." You thank, he'd ruffle your hair then continued to walk to the the kitchen..

You set the remote aside and followed Chris , although you would love to keep flirting with him, you still have to do what your getting paid for.

"Need something?" He exclaims as he sees you following behind him with a curious face.

"Yes sir" You'd politely say , clearing your throat , trying to come off as more professional.

"Is there anything i need to know about your child?" You sit down at one of the seats on the island, tuning into his words and listening for instructions.

He'd open the fridge and grab out the orange juice, "Yea, His name is carson, he hates anything thats the color orange.." He takes a swish of the juice " I want him in bed by 8, no sugar before bed." He sternly demands, "Hes already got sleeping problems and giving him sugar will just make him bounce off the walls." another swish "Thats it." He finishes the bottle.

"Well sir, if you dont mind me asking where are you going." , you say hoping that you arent coming off as invasive. "A meeting at my office." ,"Corporate is gonna be there so its quite important, and far."

"Is your job boring."  Youd ask trying to keep the conversation afloat, "Obviously it is darling, its a job." he'd say in that deep tone once again , leaning over the counter to look you in the eyes "Right.." You'd mutter, your breath picking up speed.

"Anyways do you wanna meet carson?" He'd say breaking the tension, then going to toss the empty orange juice box into the trash. "Yea of course" You'd say in a shaky tone, finding yourself almost hypnotized by his deep voice once again.

"Carson?! The babysitters here!" He loudly called upstairs. Man could he yell, his voice sounded like a siren.

Minutes later, a little boy came running into the kitchen, with a barbie doll in hand. "Hi little man!" You cooed at the little boy, with the kindest smile to give off a friendly impression.

"Im y/n, your babysitter for tonight!" You said in a high pitched voice, the little boy just gave a blank stare; then smiled. "Your pretty." He'd mutter, then letting out a small giggle. You felt your heart burst open, exploding with cuteness and adorableness. Getting compliments from toddlers always felt amazing. Carson is a charmer, just like his father.

"Well aren't you the sweetest little thing?", you'd pinch his chubby cheek.

"Looks like someone has a crush." Chris joked, "Ive gotta go." Chris mutters after checking his watch "Carson, have fun with the cute babysitter." he'd wink at you, then swiftly went to snatch his case off the  island and walked out the kitchen

"Bye-bye!" Carson would wave, "Bye kid." Chris responded back. You both watched Chris leave out the doors.

"Wheres your room charmer?" You say with a soft yet fun and engaging voice, just to keep him happy.

He'd drag you upstairs to his room.

~Time skip to 8pm~

"Will daddy be home soon?" Carson whispered while tucked in bed. "Yes daddy will be home.." You'd check your watch. "Very soon!", "You'll be far in dreamland by then though." You smiled and booped his nose, "Alright!" He smiled cuddling up into his unicorn plushy, getting into a comfortable position.

"Want the nightlight on?" , "Yes please!" he responded, you switched on the nightlight, and watched as it lit up the whole room with stars and space ships. You were amazed as if you were a little kid too. "Goodnight, and the bed bugs WONT bite." You say, leaving his room and carefully closing the door.

"That wasnt as bad as i expected." You sighed. You began feeling a tinkling feeling arise in you giving you the signal that you needed to pee, "Wheres the bathroom in this place?" You question, frantically opening doors left and right with little to no luck, everything being either a closet or a guest room.

You opened another door, hoping it was the desired destination, only to find Chris' room. It was quite big for a singular person. "I shouldn't look." You say, "Curiosity killed the cat." You hopelessly reminded yourself, but something in you wanted to look around and find out more about him as a person.

So you looked.

You walked over to his dresser and looked at all the photos neatly arrayed on it. It was all pictures of Carson winning something or getting an award at school. You smirked, but felt some kind of jealousy spark in you for some reason.

i wish i had that.

You came across one photo that was flipped over to where you cant see it, you decided to pick it up and look at it. It was a family photo, this time with a woman included. She was pretty, like super model pretty. Judging from how the picture was flipped over and how she doesn't live here you figured they divorced, and it was bad.

You were gonna to continue looking through the photos until you heard an "Ahem." from behind you. You felt your heart jump, swiftly turning around and attempting to find a good excuse.

"I was looking for the bathroom-" You panicked, Your breath quickened, as he walked over with a smug smirk on his face then stopping right before you.

He firmly grasped your chin and lifted it up, "Thank you for taking care of Carson, hes never fell asleep when he's supposed to." , you slowly nodded and plastered a crooked smile on your face. "Now, what make you wanna go through my things little one?" He says with that tone again.

"Im sorry, i just got really curious and-" , "You know i could easily cut money off your good paycheck for this?" He gritted his teeth, he was pissed.

"Im sorry." You say with a nervous and scared tone, "Its alright im joking with ya." He laughed, letting go of your chin and walking away. "Man your fun to get." He chuckled.

*~*

You let out a anxious yet relieved  chuckle, trying to process what the hell just happened.

"All of your photos of you and Carson are so cute." You say hoping to clear the air, unhurriedly taking a seat on his bed, whilst chris begins undressing his suit. "Thank you, me and Carson are quite photogenic." He replies, "I even kind of find myself jealous of you 2." you say in a more depressing voice.

"Jealous?" He questions, walking over to you and takes a seat next to you on the bed. "Why are you jealous?" He asks again, "My relationship with my father is fucked." you mutter. "You do everything for Carson, you'd give your life away for him in a drop of a hat."

"My dad wouldn't do this for me even if he was paid too. He'd probably spend all the money on crack anyway." , "Im sorry." he apologized, as if he did something wrong.

"its not you its just fucking daddy issues." You laughed wiping away the gathering tears in your eyes, "If you wanna talk to me you can let it out." He says, "I think your swell." he smiles and ruffles your hair again. You'd go in for a hug, he wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead.

You'd pull away and stare, he reciprocated. "What are you looking at?" He whispers, glancing down at your lips and back at you.

You attached your lips onto his , resting your hand on his cheek. You felt as he gripped your hips and pulled you onto his thigh, straddling it.

You exchanged pecks and tongue, letting the heat between you to flow back and forth and take control. You let out a small moan as he guided your hips back and forth; creating friction on your clit. Smiling, he kissed your neck and left a hickey as he continued to thigh fuck you.

"Fuck~" You'd moan, grinding some more for more friction, "Needy one arent you?" He whispers into your ear, "Let me take care of you." He lifts you up off his knee, then slowly laid your body onto the bed.

"Take off your pants." He commanded, you slowly began working your sweatpants off, revealing to him your beautiful figure.

"Perfect." He mumbles, "Open your legs." He watched as you slowly spread apart your legs, showing him the wet spot on your panties.

"Your already wet for me?" He smiles, pressing his thumb down on the wet spot. He hovered himself over you, and kissed you and he teased your cunt through your underwears. You softly moaned as you felt his thumb go in small circles around your clit, kissing him became a challenge as it was constantly interrupted by your moans.

"Please stop teasing me" You ask, wanting more.

"Fine~" he goes to take off your soaked panties, "Wow." He said, as he removed the white panties , strings of your juices followed it. "I dont think i can tease you any longer, i need you now." He says with a needy tone, flipping you over to all fours.

He took off his black tie and tied your wrists together, making sure its knotted but not tight.

You heard his pants unbuckle and jangle, and his pants drop to the floor, you sat there with anticipation but also with slight fear.

"I was thinking of you at the meeting." He started, "Not an innocent kind of thinking either." ,"When you called me sir it did something to me." He bit his lip, then eagerly slid into you. His thick cock becoming covered in your juices. You both let out a small gasp.

"So i want you to call me sir again." He says pulling you hair back, looking you directly into the eyes. You obeyed "Yes sir." , he smiled with satisfaction . "Atta girl."

He let go of your hair putting you back into your original position, face down , ass up.

You moaned as he gave you slow-paced yet hard and deep strokes, he watched as you moaned while he teased your g-spot. You began to whimper and whine, wanting more than that. "Please go faster." You moaned into the sheets, "What was that?" He said giving you a obviously super hard stroke as you forgot to call him sir. You let out a soft whine from the pain and quickly corrected yourself "Please go faster..." "..sir."  you say in a soft yet sexy tone.

"Alright baby."," Brace yourself." He said before beginning to pound your little cunt,  you were surprised at how fast he was going that you actually started to brace yourself.

You felt so powerless and vulnerable with your hands tied behind your back, the only thing you were able to do was moan and just take his 9 inch cock.  "You were hoping for this werent you, little slut." He talked, "You wanted me to fuck you ever since you got here." he growled "Hm?" he says waiting for your response "Yes sir i did!" You admit, he began digging his dull nails into your hips and bringing you onto his cock harder. "Well you got what you want now fucking take it." He whispered.

"I think im gonna-" You moan, "Oh no your not." He says flipping you onto your back. He began taking off the tie, enabling you to move again.

"This is gonna be deep." He moaned.

You watched as he began towering himself over you, grasping onto the headboard for better balance and stability. "You can stop when you cant take it anymore." he re-affirmed, "Just keep your legs open for me is all i need in return."you were  pretty terrified, but in the best way possible.

He slowly slid his dick back into your cunt, giving a slow pity fuck, to start. "Thats it?" You thought to yourself, expecting something rougher.

But you spoke to soon, you watched as his grip on the headboard tightened and he started to prop himself up. He started to vigorously fuck you, moving his hips back and forth in an inhuman pace. You felt like a little flesh light the way he was using you.

You'd grip onto his waist to keep from cumming to fast, "Don't be scared to leave a mark." He moaned, you obeyed and started to dig your nails into his muscular back leaving scratches, he moaned in pain yet pleasure.

You struggled to keep your legs open, it felt so good that you could hardly even keep quiet.  He had to aggressively force your legs back open. He let go of the head board, starting to kiss you and your neck as he desperately fucked himself into your tight and throbbing hole.

"Why dont we play with this thing hm?" He whispers as he reached a hand down to occupy your swollen clit. "Be a good girl and cum for me" He smiles upon you, "You can do it, cum." He asks again.

He spat onto your cunt and swirled his thumb around your clit, he bit his lip as he felt it throb and your legs shake, "Oh so sensitive." He cooed.

You started to feel that tinkling sensation again, and felt it quickly override your whole body before it exploded. He watched as your eyes rolled back, "Thats it!" He'd smile as you squirted onto his chest, making an absolute mess everywhere..

"Alright my turn." He says gripping onto your hips, making your lower body lift up, and pounding himself into your hole. Like you were a toy. You watched from below as he ferociously used your cunt, extremely needy to cum. He loved how tight you got after your climax and couldn't hold on any longer.

"Fuck im gonna-" He moans subby, "Shit-" he says again, stroking himself into you one more time before letting out a warm load into you. "Fuck-" He moaned again, falling onto you. Doing one more stroke to make sure your filled up with his juices.

"You did such a good job for me baby." He kissed your cheek, "Thank you sir.", he lifted back up to inspect the headboard. "Shit.", He smacked his teeth, "This always happens." , "What does?" You asked. "I put a dent in the headboard when i gripped it." ,"What am i gonna tell them this time." , " That i was fucking my sons babysitter and got out of hand?" , "They'd call cps on me." He joked, you both let out a laugh.

You yawned exhausted, "Im so proud of you for taking me with no complaints." He places another kiss on your forehead. "No problem." You respond.

"Now go pee." He giggles, reminding you before you drift off to sleep.

~~~

(edited)

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,006

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

Chapter 39: Not Today

“Today we’ll never die. The light will pierce through the darkness.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Myeongdong; Jung District South Korea

It was the calm before the storm.

Hoseok could feel it in his bones to the point where he swore that they creaked with each step he took. He barely heard what Namjoon was telling him as they approached the large building in downtown Myeongdong. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince him to change his mind; to postpone this meeting for another day. Or if it was something else entirely. Hoseok was only vaguely aware of the noises on the streets as they passed pedestrians on the path to their destination.

There was too much simmering beneath the surface for him to focus on anything outside of reaching his destination.

When he’d received the call from Taehyung a couple of days ago, Hoseok knew it was time for him to make his move. Yoongi falling ill and being hospitalized, even for a day, should have been the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. Truth be told, Hoseok was in and out of meetings for most of the days during the week and had little time to spare outside of his business practices. Things were starting to look good. Things were finally beginning to take a positive turn, just as they planned.

Even with the instances that the Jade Fangs did show up, they were minor inconveniences at most. Hoseok was made aware of the slight against Eden, Jungkook’s girlfriend. He offered to have her monitored, but at Jungkook’s behest, he didn’t follow through. Eden was apparently a woman who valued her personal life and her privacy. The last thing she wanted was anyone shadowing her unnecessarily, even if it was for her own protection. From what he was told, Eden was also a woman who could more than handle herself if it came to a rough and tumble fight.

Hoseok did not pull his eyes back from Raelyn, even if she was seeing Taehyung now. There was always the chance that something could happen and at a moment when everyone least expected it. If she were ever made aware of it, he would apologize for it later. In this case, it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Old habits die hard, as they say…

Feet shuffled to a halt as he stood in front of the large building, Namjoon at his side. The two of them looked up at the high-rise, the sun already sinking beyond the horizon and down below the tree lines. The twilight hour was upon them and the world was still just as busy buzzing with life. As it would continue to do for many days to come.

Clearing his throat, he began to move forward – approaching the sliding glass doors. “Let’s go,” he said just as the doors opened to grant them entrance.

Two security guards approached them from either side, causing the two men to stop in the main lobby. Hoseok lofted a brow at each of them and Namjoon shuffled just a little bit closer to him. His tan trench coat hung off his shoulders while he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pin-striped slacks. Lifting one hand from the pocket, he undid the button on the matching suit jacket as he slid his aviators off his face.

“Im Changkyun is expecting me,” came his even reply as he put the shades into the inner pocket of his jacket, “so be good boys and step aside.”

Hoseok didn’t bother hiding his irritation. He wanted it known that this wasn’t some pleasant little business meeting or a check-in visit. This was nothing of the sort.

This…was personal.

A phone rang at the secretary’s desk, snapping her out of her momentary trance at the small incident that was stirring in the lobby. The two security guards continued to block Hoseok’s path, but then the woman quickly stood from her seat and bowed before hanging up the phone. She clapped her hands to get the guards’ attention.

“Chairman Im said to let them through.”

The guards stood there a little while longer before finally stepping to the side, giving both Hoseok and Namjoon a clear path. They approached the desk where the young woman handed Hoseok a keycard. She bowed in apologies before pointing to the corridor off to the right.

“If you take that hallway, there are sets of elevators. The key card will give you access to the Chairman’s office on the top floor.”

Hoseok flashed her a polite grin, waving the card at her clamped between his fingers. “Thank you.”

And without so much as a second glance, he began heading toward the hallway. Namjoon followed behind him, making sure that the two security guards weren’t intent on doing something stupid. Hoseok didn’t see his friend visibly relax until they were alone in the elevator.

He slid the keycard through the card reader, waiting for the elevator to begin lifting them from the ground floor. When it jerked slightly upon its initial ascent was when Namjoon finally spoke.

“Hoseok-ah? Do you think—”

“Don’t, Namjoon-ah,” he interrupted, staring ahead at their muddied reflections on the elevator’s stainless-steel doors, “not now.”

“We didn’t even discuss this with the others.”

There was concern in Namjoon’s voice, which was well-warranted. It was rare for Hoseok to go rogue. When he did, it was usually something small. He never made moves like this without discussing it with the others first. Seokjin always made it a point to ensure that everyone was on the same page so that none of them could get blind-sided. Strategizing and prioritizing situations before others was what helped the Golden Jackals climb up the ladder of success so quickly. Impulsivity had no place in their lives back then and it shouldn’t have now.

However, this time, Hoseok wanted to be selfish. He’d earned the right to be selfish. He deserved and had every right to be as livid as he was at that moment. Anyone who tried to tell him otherwise was delusional.

“This doesn’t concern them right now.” He cast a sidelong glance to Namjoon, brows furrowing deeply. “Honestly, I don’t even like that you’re with me. You should have stayed in the car like I told you to.”

Namjoon blinked at him, clearly jarred by his words. Or that he’d suddenly grown a second head. “You thought you’d just waltz into Im Changkyun’s business office alone, huh?” He snorted. “Yeah, no. Jin Hyung would have my head and I’m a pretty big fan of it staying attached to my neck.”

Hoseok grinned. “That’s not like you, Namjoon-ah. You’re usually the first one to show your guts.”

“Yeah, well that was then. This is now.”

The elevator dinged softly as they reached their destination. The steel doors slid open slowly, revealing a long hallway with a black and red carpet leading from the elevator to a pair of double doors at the very end of the long stretch. There was someone standing just outside the door, but they were too far away to be made out easily.

Hoseok stepped out and strode forward, Namjoon matching his pace. The closer they got to the end of the hallway, the more the person’s face standing just outside the door came into view. When they were only a couple of yards away, they could now tell it was Shownu. He looked between the two of them, a satisfied smirk etching his features. Hoseok peered up at the man who was older and slightly taller than him. His image from five years ago overlapped his current one and a phantom ache throbbed at Hoseok’s side from when he’d been kicked by the man in the rainstorm.

Shownu politely stood away from the door, gesturing toward it. “He’s waiting for you, Jung Hoseok.”

He nodded, casting his gaze over toward Namjoon. “Wait here.”

Namjoon looked like he was about to protest, but then Shownu placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, hm? I’m sure they’re going to have a lot to discuss.”

Again, Namjoon looked reticent. But Hoseok nodded, his earlier expression dissolving into a softer one. He saw his friend blink in surprise. He could only imagine what his face looked like, but it probably reflected an old version of himself he hadn’t shown in quite some time. After a moment, he watched Namjoon sigh before nodding.

“If you need anything, call me.”

Hoseok nodded again. “I will.”

He waited, watching the two men make their way back down the hall. Shownu turned off to the left, entering a room and Namjoon followed. But not before he met his gaze one more time. Hoseok took a breath, promising to apologize to Namjoon later, and opened the doors.

The interior of the office was what Hoseok would have expected. Pristine. Clean. Modern. There was the traditional name plate sitting on top of a black polished desk made of expensive and imported wood. The marbling on the floor was flawless and the furniture held a business design with sectionals surrounding a glass and metal coffee table. Elegant art pieces decorated the walls and off to the right was a large window that overlooked the entire downtown area of Myeongdong from hundreds of feet in the air. A wet bar was situated near the small nook near the back.

Hoseok wasn’t impressed, however. This was to be expected of Im Changkyun, the Wolf of the Jade Fangs. He hadn’t climbed up in the ranks and obtained his title of “leader” if he wasn’t capable of this level of eloquence and prestige. His ambition suited his taste in decorating.

Instead of stepping further inside, he remained near the entrance as the doors closed behind him. Changkyun was seated at his desk, immersed in a book of some sort. The computer monitor was situated, visually, to Hoseok’s right. When their eyes met, Hoseok didn’t smile even though Changkyun did.

“Oh, Hoseok Hyung,” he said, closing the book and sliding it just to the side of him, “welcome. I’ll admit, I was a little surprised when I received your call. It’s not often you take the time to come visit me.”

Hoseok heard the bitter edge to the statement but made no effort to acknowledge it. He gave a slight shrug, remaining where he was until he saw Changkyun slowly rising from his plush leather chair. The wheels shifted along the marble floor and it was in that moment that Hoseok reached behind him to turn the deadbolt on the door – synchronizing it to match the sound of the chair’s movements.

“Your boys have been paying mine little visits here and there,” he said, stepping away from the door, “I figured that I should return the favor.”

Changkyun flashed an open-mouthed grin. “Ah, yes. Yes, they have.” He reached up to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. “Is that the reason for this, Hyung? Are the boys getting in your way?”

Hoseok scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Hmm, well that’s no good. I was hoping that was why.”

Slowly, Hoseok made his way to the left of the sectionals in the center of the office. “Because?”

“Because I’m still trying to figure you out, Hyung. I have questions and you haven’t answered them all yet.”

Changkyun’s words didn’t match his expression. Instead of looking inquisitive, he had the look of a man who appeared to have already won the game. It was a look that Hoseok remembered from many years ago – before the Golden Jackals were formed. Before they truly began to understand what the criminal underworld really looked like.

Before Im Changkyun killed the previous leader of the Jade Fangs in cold blood.

“Then let me give them to you.”

Hoseok’s body moved in a blur – matching the speed of his youth which was fueled by his anger alone. He knew he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. He hadn’t been fighting every day like he had years ago when his brothers and he first arrived in Seoul. Their lives were harder, but they were much simpler back then. When they were happier and driven to reach a future they could all obtain together.

He tapped into that feeling and rushed Changkyun’s desk – his trench coat flying off his shoulders and landing on the ground just as he went airborne. Just like that rainy night five years ago, during the gang war on the streets of Gangnam, he watched Changkyun’s smug look melt away as sudden realization washed over him instead. Hoseok cleared the chair at the head of the coffee table and landed on Changkyun’s desk in a crouch.

Jerking his right arm, the switch blade slid from the sleeve of his jacket and landed in his hand. He flicked the blade free, aiming straight for Changkyun’s neck. However, he knew that this wouldn’t be enough for the leader of the Jade Fangs. There was a reason he’d earned the nickname Wolf all those years ago. And it was because of his primal instincts.

Those very instincts came into play as he reached up to catch Hoseok’s wrist. Changkyun tried to pull his arm away from his body, attempting to keep the blade as far from his neck as possible. But just like Changkyun earned his moniker, so had Hoseok. The Death Claw didn’t back down from a fight because he’d looked The Grim Reaper in his face and spit in it.

Hoseok used his free hand to grab at his wrist, fingers locking over Changkyun’s and then pushing his weight forward. What distance was gained was soon minimized as Hoseok leaned in, the tip of the knife moving up and casting a shadow over Changkyun’s face. If he wouldn’t let him take his throat, he would jam the blade straight into his eye socket.

“H-Hyung,” growled Changkyun through clenched teeth as he glared up at Hoseok, “what do you think you’re doing?”

He could feel his arms trembling with the amount of force he was exerting. Changkyun was putting in just as much effort, causing a horrible stalemate that was on the verge of fracturing. The odds evened out as Hoseok watched him reaching up with his free hand to brace against his own wrist – mimicking each other.

“What does it look like?” Hoseok replied, his eyes narrowing darkly, “I’m answering your questions.”

He watched him blinking up at him in confusion. He was a young man Hoseok once believed to be full of potential and drive. Someone Hoseok admired years ago. Before he discovered the depth of his said ambition.

Silence stretched between them, neither of them easing off their stance or their grips. Hoseok felt a bead of sweat slip down his temple just as he saw one sliding down to drip from Changkyun’s chin. There were the occasional grunting sounds as one attempted to overpower the other, but outside of that, no words were spoken.

Changkyun finally let out a choked-out scoff, bitter disappointment evident on his features. Yet he smirked, regardless. “So, this is your answer, Hyung?”

Hoseok mirrored his gaze. “Yes, Changkyun-ah, it is.”

Something passed over the younger man’s face. But it was so brief, Hoseok couldn’t place it. At least not then.

“That’s a shame, Hoseok Hyung. A real shame.” He let out a shaky breath. “But if this is your answer, then I guess I have no choice but to continue the game without you.”

And then he moved faster than Hoseok could have anticipated. He released his hold and Hoseok felt all his weight collapsing forward. The blade nicked Changkyun’s cheek, but it was a sacrifice he willingly made. Hoseok realized this when he saw knuckles sailing toward his face. He pivoted in mid-air, changing his trajectory and his shoulder landed hard on the desk. Changkyun moved to elbow-drop him, but Hoseok whirled his legs into the air to block the assault, slamming his knee into Changkyun’s shoulder before rolling completely off the desk.

However, as he landed on the marble flooring, he felt pain exploding across his back and causing him to stumble forward. He quickly pivoted on his heels just as he saw Changkyun lowering his arm from where he’d had it extended – noting that his punch had, in fact, successfully connected. The two of them heaved, inhaling a lungful of air. Hoseok reached up to dab at the sweat on his brow with the back of his wrist.

A full minute passed before both men lowered their stances, silently agreeing that this discussion was at its conclusion. Hoseok turned to head toward the entrance, scooping up his trench coat along the way. Just as he made to unlatch the doors to the office, he heard Changkyun popping his neck before a breathy chuckle escaped.

“You’ve made yourself clear. So now I’m going to make myself clear.”

Pausing, Hoseok turned to look back at the leader of the Jade Fangs. But he chose to say nothing. Changkyun continued.

“What I do from this moment on, you no longer play a factor into it. What happens after today is a result of the answer you’ve given me. And I’m going to make good on it.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Is that right?” He rolled his eyes, unlatching the door. “We’re done playing this game with you. Do what you want.”

The grin that Changkyun gave him was the most wolfish he’d ever seen and it caused his spine to lock up uncomfortably, even for just a moment.

“Oh, I will. Trust me.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Just remember that it’s nothing personal, Jung Hoseok.”

Dropping the honorific was expected. Hoseok wasn’t surprised. So, instead of giving it credence, he simply exited the office and slammed the doors behind him. He needed to breathe. He needed air. So, for now, he would simply text Namjoon to come out when he was ready and that he’d be waiting in the car.

After he vomited his anger into a nearby bush somewhere.

[iamyoursinblog]

Find you

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x Reader x Im Jaebeom

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 3,1 k

LIST

Part: [ 1] [ 2] [ 3 ] [ 3.5 ] [ 4 ] [ ]

_____________________________

 POV Jinyoung

"Run to the library quickly. You've got three seconds!" he hissed into the tube and passed out. He hid behind the book row, looking out the side of the window.

He went to the library to give the book away. Turning to the exit, girl in a red sweater catch his attention, who sitting on a table near the window. He didn't immediately believe his eyes. But it was definitely you! It was their chance with Jaebeom to meet you. So he's acting like he's in a spy movie right now. He got amused because he was acting like a teenager. A minute later, Jaebeom appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. He ran to the door and grabbed Jaebeom for jacket dragged to the place where he was hiding before.

"What a jerk? What are you doing? Why such urgency?" Jaebeom wanted to keep talking, but Jinyoung covered his mouth with his hand.

"Shut up already!" whispered Jinyoung

He pointed with his finger on the window where you was sitting. Jaebeom turned his head and froze when he saw you. He almost laughed with Jaebeom's reaction. You really act on them just as much. He turned his eyes to you. You sat and read the book. You were wearing reading glasses, and your fingers were playing with strands of your hair. How can someone look so depraved just by reading a book in a library. He rested his forehead in Jaebeom's shoulder. How can he handle it?

"She definitely loves red," Jaebeom said, looking at you.

"Was she also in red when you first saw her? When I met her she was wearing a red dress." he replied

"When I met her, she was wearing a red suit, " said Jaebeom

"We have to approach her," he said, though he lacked the courage to do so.

"Yes, come on," Jaebeom replied. But a few minutes passed, and none of them budged. They looked at each other and giggled. They were arguing over who should go first, turning their heads, they saw that your place was empty. They ran out into the middle of the hall looking around.

"Damn, it's all your fault" Jinyoung slammed Jaebeom on the shoulder.

They ran out into the hallway. "There" Jinyoung pointed to the end of the corridor where you turned the corner. They ran there. Turning the corner, Jaebeom abruptly stopped. Jinyoung crashed into Jaebeom, causing them to fall.

"Why the hell did you stop so abruptly?" Jinyoung said shoving Jaebeom. But Jaebeom did not react at all, looking at the wall. He turned his head and sat down again on the floor, losing his balance. You stood near the wall with your arms folded on your chest, and you watched them on top of your glasses. You squatted, looking at them.

"So that's who was staring at me in the library. I think I've seen you before." "And you too" you pointed your finger at Jaebeom. "Too many coincidences to be an accident," you said before getting up.

"We liked your coffee shop. So we decided to meet each other," said Jaebeom, and got to his feet, giving Jinyoung's hand.

"And you go by promo of 1+1. Meet one, the other as a gift?" you chuckled.

"Yes, and you are against it? I think the offer is very profitable." replied Jinyoung.

"I'm sure you won't regret it" added Jaebeom

"Sorry, but we have to go, miss" the guy in the black suit appeared next to you.

"Yes, let's go," you told to the guy. "It was nice to meet them, 1+1" you looked at them from head to toe, before turning and going to the exit.

"I think we just screwed up," he laughed as he continued to look at you. He looked out the window watching you get in the car before getting out of sight. He turned and saw that Jaebeom was still looking out the window.

"But she remembered us, even though we came separately," Jaebeom turned his eyes to him. "So there's a chance."

"You don't think we've been playing in 'good guys' for too long..." he said, moving away from the window, "Come on, Mark is waiting for us."

They went to the restaurant where Mark was waiting for them. They said hello and made an order.

"Mark, remember that coffee shop you told me to go to?" asked Jaebeom.

"Yes, I thought you'd like it there, they've got a lot of interesting books." answered Mark

"Books are the only reason why you told me to go there." asked Jinyoung

"Yes, and what? You can't just get there. Nobody knows about them, only those who have been told about this by a person who has already been there can come there."

"Do you know the girl in red who works there in the second hall?" asked Jinyoung.

"I know" laughed Mark "But only she is not an employee, she is the owner."

"Tell us about her" asked Jinyoung

"Forget about it. She's not in our league. I'm even afraid to turn to her once again when she's at the bar. I've never met anyone like her. I heard that if you post on the Internet about this coffee shop, it's gone in a minute. She seems to have too much power. Even the two guys who work there, they're not bartenders, they're security guards."

"I've only seen one guy," Jaebeom said

'Me too' confirmed Jinyoung

"The second guy is on sick leave. One of the new customers recently got drunk and threw a glass in her direction, but the bartender stood in front of her and the glass crashed against his head. Usually in such cases there is began a panic, even me feel uncomfortable, but she looked like she saw it every day. A minute later, the customer was entered by security, and she calmly pulled shards of glass from his wound until an ambulance arrived." Mark shook his head "I have to go, see you later" he said, looking at his watch.

"Yes, see you" replied Jaebeom

'She's really something,' he thought to himself. And how do they deal with that. If he had the idea of hiring someone to find out more about her, now he realizes that it could be dangerous.

"Can we hire someone to find out who she is?" asked Jaebeom when Mark left.

"I've thought about it too, but now I'm not sure it's a good idea. Judging by what Mark said about her, she learns that she is being watched for 5 minutes, and in next five will know who exactly do it".

"Why don't we go to the coffee shop tomorrow?" asked Jaebeom.

"She certainly won't communicate with us there. It seems that she often visits the library, it is necessary to meet with her in neutral territory"

"It feels like we're discussing a takeover of a company, not an acquaintance with a girl." laughed Jaebeom

They came home with the hope that they could meet you again.

POV You

You were sitting in your office, the day was too busy. You smiled remembering those two guys outside the library. They seemed too innocent. You picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"My goodness. I never thought I'd be able to hear your beautiful voice again." answered male voice

"Too much sarcasm, from someone like you" you answered

"I just thought you were on the side of the angels now. Although it's safer for them if you're on their side."

"You've forgotten, I'm always on my side" you grinned.

"Closer to the point, baby. I don't think you called to find out how I was doing. Who should be found?"

"I sent pictures to your mail." You selected some screenshots from the surveillance camera in the coffee shops and clicked send.

"Ok. Will you come to see me sometime?"

"Have you forgotten? I'm kind of on the side of the angels," you said, and hung up.

A few days later you were sitting in a car looking at the pictures. 'They're really 1+1,' you thought. Always together, live together, even their families are friends. You read the name of the companies that their families own, they seemed too familiar. You took out your phone and opened your mother's letter, which had blind dating candidates. After scrolling through the list, you found two familiar names. 'Best in everything' you grinned. You kept looking at the photo, from home, from the car, from the workout, from the restaurants. You stopped at the last photo "This is more interesting" you said and laughed. You put the last photo in the envelope and put it in your bag. "Get rid of it" you passed the rest of the photos to the driver.

"Yes, Miss"

"I'll be on my own for a few days. I want to check something."

"Okay, miss. I'll be in the coffee shop. Drive your car from home?"

"My father didn't burn it after I refused to be part of the family business?"

He smiled, "He's probably still hoping that in a few years you'll change your mind. As far as I know there were no restrictions on your account"

"A couple of years? Hmm, maybe I'll change my mind" you got out of the car and went towards the library.

You've never been in a crowded place, unnecessarily. You felt like someone was looking at you all the time. When you went out and turned the corner, you heard quick steps in your direction. You wondered who might have been chasing you, so you decided to stop and see. But you didn't expect it to be your clients. You barely kept a smile when they fell in front of you. It's been a long time since you've been entertained. You've decided to see what'll happens.

You went into the library and sat down at your favorite place by the big window. You opened the book and started reading, it always calmed you down. It was a little escape to a made-up world. That's why you opened this coffee shop for those who wanted a break from the outside world.

"Excuse me, can I meet with you?" You looked away from the book and turned to the sound source. There was a nice guy in his 20s, standing in front of you, with a bright smile, holding out a drink for you. Apparently your look was too dissatisfied because you were distract from reading. That's why the guy apologized a few times and putting the drink next to you disappeared from view. You looked closely at the drink before you went back to your book. You heard laughter at the next table. Turned your head you saw two students who giggled and whispered, looking in your direction. Apparently today you will not be allowed to read quietly. You took a deep breath trying not to kill these girls mentally. You were too annoyed by the people who were discussing you behind your back, you could have seen us differently before. But as you were reminded recently, you're on the side of the angels. 'Devil pretends an angel' you laughed at the thought. After looking at the hall, you made sure that those you wanted to see were not here. You got up from your seat and went between the book rows to get the book back in place. You turned on your heels and headed for the exit. When you went into the library, you noticed a coffee shop, you decided to wait for your car there. You were hoping there wouldn't be too many people there at that time. When you got to the place, you went inside, and was happy because only a few tables were occupied. You sit on a table by the window from which you can see the parking lot, and you made an order. You feeling the vibration and picked up the phone.

"Your car will be in half an hour"

You smiled that your wait wouldn't last long.

POV Jaebeom

He was reaching the entrance to the library when he saw Jinyoung standing in front of the entrance.

"Well, what went in search?" said Jinyoung, when Jaebeom came closer.

"People already think we live in the library," he laughed. They were walking past the coffee shop when the red clothes in the window caught his attention. He didn't believe his eyes right away. You were wearing a red smock ruffle blouse and short black shorts that were naked on your beautiful legs. He stopped, but Jinyoung continued to walk towards the library. Grabbing Jinyoung by the collar he drew to himself.

"Hey, what are you doing?" said Jinyoung, stepping back.

"I think our plans have changed. Let's go and take some coffee."

"What? What coffee? Aren't we..." Jinyoung didn’t finish when he saw you in the window. "Coffee? Great idea, I really want to drink a coffee"

They went inside and quickly made an order. The hall was half empty, you were sitting on the couch at a table near the window and something looked at on the phone, with not very happy look. But then she smiled broadly, and from your smile a wave of trembling passed through his body. I think it's the first time he's seen your sincere smile. They took their order and went to your table.

"Is it not occupied?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, they sat down on the couch opposite you.

You looked up from the phone and first looked at Jaebeom and then at Jinyoung. "You really are 1+1! But usually people wait for the answer to the question they asked before you take further action." you raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure it's not occupied here," Jinyoung said.

"Then absolutely loses the meaning of your question, if you were sure that the place is free" you turned your eyes again to your phone.

He just loved what you said. I always left the last word behind me. He laughed.

"I think we started the wrong way," he said with a smile. "Hi. How are you?"

"Great" you answered without even looking at them.

"Isn't it customary to ask in response 'how are you' from the interlocutor" said Jinyoung, taking a sip of coffee

"Even if I'm not really interested?" you asked, finally looking at them.

"Even if you're not interested", Jaebeom smiled.

"How are you?" You fake smiled for a second

"We're great too, thank you for asking," Jinyoung replied, smiling broadly.

"We not introduced each other last time," Jaebeom said.

"Are you talking about the time when you both were lying at my feet" you grinned

"Yes, about that time" replied Jinyoung

"I know yours names"

"You know?" asked Jaebeom

"Yes, I do. 1+1!" You sent a stinging smile to them, and goosebumps ran over his skin. 'What a cute devil' he thought to himself.

Jinyoung laughed loudly, "If you like it, you can call us like that. But for help my name is Jinyoung, and this is my best friend Jaebeom"

"What's your name?" asked Jaebeom

"Why are you trying so hard to meet me?" you asked, taking the phone in your bag and completely switching your attention to them.

"We like you, " calmly replied Jinyoung

"Do you like me? Are you two?"

"Yes. Did you forget, after all, you called us 1 + 1" smiled Jaebeom

"Very interesting couple" you said your thought in loud. You looked intently first at him and then at Jinyoung.

Every time you looked at him with that glance, he seemed to fall in love more and more. "In that case, I have a couple of questions."

"Of course, ask everything you're interested in," Jinyoung replied.

"Are you gay?"

"No" they answered at the same time, and you chuckled. "We like girls. And now we like you," Jaebeom added.

"Are you bisexual?"

"No" they answered and looked at each other

"This time the answer was less confident. Perhaps you yourself do not know the exact answer to it." you said carefully watching their every move. "Have you kissed?" you asked, pointing your finger at them

"No" they answered again together. He heard the vibration of your phone before you took it out of your bag. You picked up the phone, but you didn't produce a word, you just looked out the window and nodded. He looked out the window, too, and saw a guy in a black suit, the same guy they saw in the library hallway.

"Then the last question. Did you want to kiss each other?" your view has changed, now he would have called it piercing through.

"No" they almost responded together, and he was glad that his answer coincided with Jinyoung's response.

You smirked and got out of your seat. So without saying anything, you're gone.

"See you " said Jinyoung to you after

For a few minutes they sat in silence, watching you leave the window. He still felt a tremor in his body from your gaze. Each time your presence caused indescribable emotions. He turned his eyes to Jinyoung and saw all the same emotions on his face as he was experiencing himself.

"I wonder if it's progress?" he said, "She spoke to us, but we still not knew her name."

Jinyoung laughed at his words. "I think it can definitely be called progress"

They had coffee and headed for the exit.

"Sorry" to them spoke the girl behind the bar. "Before going out, the girl you were sitting with asked to pass it on to you" she held out a white envelope and he took it

"Thank you" smiled Jinyoung

He turned the envelope over and saw the inscription in beautiful handwriting:

"Are you sure the answer to the last question is 'no'?"

He opened the envelope and the cold walked through his veins, chaining his whole body in a tight knot when he saw a photograph. It was a screenshot from a surveillance camera. In the pictures, he pressed Jinyoung against a wall in a dark corridor, and their faces were only a few centimetres apart.

"We seem to be in trouble," he said, handing over an envelope with a photo of Jinyoung.

'It's time to stop playing honestly,' he thought. He glanced again at the photograph which jinyoung held with trembling hands, and his face was an unreadable mask.

"Let's go" he put his arms around Jinyoung's shoulders, and headed for the exit. "I think we've been at the club in a long time ago" 

_____________________________

LIST

Part: [ 1] [ 2] [ 3 ] [ 3.5 ] [ 4 ] [ ]

[maandags]

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part iv}

i have no excuse for the wait except that im an idiot who took this school year too lightly yeet

-- -- --

Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst. because whats new

Word count: 8.7K

Notes: CW: graphic violence/blood, emotional manipulation - masterlist - {previous} -- {next }

-- -- --

if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

then i’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

~ Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy

-- -- --

You wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented and shivering despite the multiple layers you have on and thick comforter stacked upon you. It takes a moment before the events of the previous night rush back into your mind and cloud your thoughts, and you throw an arm over your face, inhaling deeply.

A huge weight has fallen off your shoulders. Last night, you didn't realise as much, your tired 3 A.M. mind already struggling to focus with the fact that Keith--who had been deathly sick only hours before--was up and about and sitting at your kitchen table and eating chinese takeout. But now that you had the quiet of the early morning to yourself you could feel the knots in your shoulders loosen and the lead seep out of your limbs.

You slowly shift your legs out of bed, still slightly dazed. Sunlight peeks out through the cracks in the shutters covering your window, and you cast a look at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand. It's barely 7 A.M. And it's also a Saturday. While that doesn't matter much in terms of noise–a city is a city, after all, and this one certainly is never quiet–your neighbours' kids aren't allowed out of bed before nine on Saturdays, which gives you at least two small hours of peace and quiet.

You stagger to the bathroom and let the hot shower water beat down your stiff muscles, trying to draw out the permanent chill that seems to have settled deep into your bones. It works a little bit, but when you get out of the steamy little cell and wrap a towel around your torso you can feel it trickle back into the pit of your stomach, like an icy worm that's decided to make your body its home. It's more of a discomfort than a true pain, though, so you decide to ignore it.

Your hair is still damp when you pull an extra thick sweater over your head, stick your feet in warm socks and tiptoe your way over to the living room.

Keith is still asleep. You don't blame him–he's still recovering, even though he already looks so much better than the previous night. The colour is back in his cheeks. The dark circles and the hollowness under his eyes have started to fade away. He's still thin, and he doesn't smell too good, but you decide against waking him just yet.

In the kitchen, you put on the kettle and pull open the fridge in search of something to eat. The unfinished boxes of chinese sit in front, half-open from when you hastily stowed them away. You pull one out, sniff it, then shrug as you grab for a spoon.

The kitchen windowsill is probably not the spot a lot of people would pick to lounge on, an early Saturday morning. But you've always liked to watch the sun rise over the tall buildings, and the soft orange glow you're treated with today is worth waking up so early for. You rest your face on the knee you've pulled up beside you as you shovel another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

The orange slowly fades out into yellow, then into blue. It's soothing to watch, and you find yourself slow your breathing and close your eyes as the city wakes up beneath you. Noises of starting cars and motorbikes drift up to your window, and chattering fills the street. People exit their homes, throwing delightful glances up at the sunny sky; unexpected after the heavy rain of the previous night.

You finish your takeout, do some chores around the house. Change your bedsheets. Prepare a change of clothes for when Keith finally wakes up. Open the windows to let in some fresh air. Prepare a cup of tea and claim back your spot on the windowsill. It's a peaceful morning, and the air doesn't feel quite as heavy as usual.

And then there's a rustling in the room beside you, and a crash as–you assume–Keith tumbles off your sofa and hits the ground. A faint groan floats past the kitchen doorway and you try to hide your grin. A couple of seconds later a very dishevelled-looking Keith stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," you tell him, rolling your shoulders once so they won't go stiff against the windowsill. He nods at you, dark eyes bleary. "Feel better?"

He sniffs. "I don't feel like I just got struck by lightning and dragged behind a racecar over an especially rocky road. So I guess that's improvement."

You blow on the hot tea in your hands. "I'm glad. Would have hated to have gone through all that trouble for nothing. You're quite the guest, you know."

Keith winces at the words, despite your light tone. For some reason, his frown and pained expression tug at your stomach. "But I don't mind it," you add hurriedly. "I mean–it was my own choice to take you in. I very well could not have done that. But–but I did." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you shouted internally.

The corners of Keith's mouth lift ever so slightly. "Lucky for me."

"Lucky for you," you agree with a grin.

It's silent for a while, and in the sunlight, you can clearly see how thin Keith really is. His shirt hangs from his frame in a shapeless lump of cloth, his trousers sagging and almost slipping from his bony hips. While he does look better–the life has returned to his eyes–he still doesn't look good, and the sight of him makes your guts twist. You point to the fridge. "There's leftovers from yesterday. Grab whatever you want–but be careful not to eat too much. I don't want you puking all over my kitchen."

But Keith has already found the other chinese box, and you show him which drawers contain cutlery and in which cupboard are stashed the glasses. He scarfs down the rice in ten minutes flat, and you shake your head in silent judgement. "I'm going to find a way to make you pay back everything you'll cost me, food-wise. You're in debt, starting today."

He gives you a shy grin, but his attention is quickly taken up once more by the food in front of him. You quietly sip your tea, staring out of the window, occasionally glancing at the angel sitting at your kitchen table.

That's when it truly hits you how much of an idiot you're being.

Last night, it had been late. Five days of nothing on your mind but the thought of trying to keep him alive, and finally finding a way to do so, had left you shaky and dazed. Seeing him up and about after getting used to the sound of his ragged, unsteady breathing floating through your apartment had been a shock.

But now the full weight of what you'd done–and what you hadn't done–crashes into you, and you realise you have absolutely no idea how to feel. The air charges with tension, and the angel leans back in his seat. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind whirls with thoughts, all seeming to want something different–the part of you that's curious where this whole situation would lead and is whispering to you to let him stay; the part of you that's still a loyal soldier to the Below and is screaming at you to turn him in; the part of you that wants nothing to do with any of this and is growling to throw him back out on the street. You shake your head, downing the last of your tea and hopping off the counter.

"Take a shower when you're done with that," you mutter. "I have to get back to work soon. My co-workers are gonna ask questions and I need to be prepared."

Keith nods. Your phone is already in your hands and you fire off a quick text to the shelter's manager to inform him you'd be in this afternoon. You don't know Anthony that well–he mostly keeps to the side and handles potential adopters. You prefer to stay with the animals. Almost immediately you receive a reply: he says he's delighted that you've decided to return so soon after taking your unexpected leave. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the barely-veiled passive-aggressiveness.

"Oh, yeah." You turn and point at Keith with your phone. "You can stay for as long as you need to, like, get your bearings and feel somewhat okay again, but then I'm kicking you out. I don't know if you have any idea of how much of a risk I'm taking here, but–"

"I get it," he cuts you off, and you can tell he means it. He needs to work on concealing his emotions, you think off-handedly. He's an open book. It's distracting. "Thank you. Seriously."

The tension builds until it's almost tangible. You shake your head, trying to shake the dizziness away. "It's–yeah. My pleasure, or whatever. I'm locking the door behind me." He gives a brief incline of his head to show he understands. "All right then. Later, I guess. Make–make sure you've showered. You kind of smell," you say apologetically. "No offence."

"None taken," he laughs. "You're right, anyway."

You make a gesture that's in between a nod and a headshake, then make a blind grab for your coat and your scarf before pulling the door closed behind you and locking it.

The shelter's lights are on, and its illuminated windows stand out starkly in the dim grimness of the gloomy street. It doesn't rain, for once, but grey clouds hang overhead and block the sun, the little light that makes it past them flimsy and thin. You pull the door closed behind you. The little bell above the doorway rings once, softly, and barking immediately pipes up from the next room over. You smile.

"Hey, loves," you mutter to each animal as you pass their cages, stopping here and there and sticking your fingers through the bars to give a furry face a pat, or to scratch a scaly butt, or to stroke a feathered head. "I missed you guys."

"They missed you too, I think," comes a quiet voice from behind you. You crouch and open a cage, plucking out a small cat and scritching it behind the ears. "They've been rather unruly in the days you weren't here. Restless, you know."

"Hi, Tony."

"Y/N." He inclines his head. "Did you have a nice leave?" It's a question purely out of politeness, you know, because he's your employer and he's supposed to be polite. As far as employers go, Tony really isn't the worst of them. But you can't shake the feeling that he's fishing for something.

"I did. I've been busy," you say cautiously, not taking your eyes off of the kitten you're cradling. "Sorry for it being so unexpected."

"Oh, not at all," Tony replies smoothly, sailing over to where you sit and leaning on the wall behind you, "We've managed. It was your week off, anyway, and just because you've insisted on working in your free time before doesn't mean that you always will." But it doesn't take amazing detective skills to hear the suspicious edge to his voice.

"That's right," you say, maybe a little too sharply. You can almost smell Tony's raised eyebrow behind you. "Sorry. I've just–I've been a little on edge, lately. I'll–" You scramble up, depositing the kitten back in its cage and dusting fur off your t-shirt. "I'll be in the back." You have the weird urge to salute, but you manage to suppress it. He's already suspicious, you remind yourself. Don't make it worse by acting weird.

It is a shame you can't spend more time with the animals, but you're not the only one who decided to come in today–it's actually quite crowded for a Saturday–so you get storage room duty and instead spend your afternoon putting away boxes of food and medicine and cleaning products. Emmie, one of your co-workers, sticks her head around the corner of your door at the end of the day.

"Hey. We're gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?"

Your back screams when you push off the chair, eager for an excuse to cut your day short. "You're a godsend." The expression is actually used exclusively as an insult in the Below, but you find you like the Middle Ground version better. "Let me just grab my shoes, I'll be right there."

Hopping on one foot as you finish tying your laces, you join Emmie, Nirina, Adam and Zach as they stride out the door, Emmie and Zach's arms linked. In the back of your mind you recognise that's strange: Emmie and Zach can't stand each other. A smile curls the corners of your lips. You did miss quite a lot this past week, didn't you?

"We're going to this new place a few blocks down," Emmie shouts over her shoulder. You try to chat with Nirina for a bit, but she's more silent than usual, barely saying a word, and eventually she retreats to walk next to Adam behind you. When you don't focus on it, a black, vaguely animal-shaped shadow seems to sit on her shoulder, but when you look directly at it nothing's there.

Something isn't right here.

The feeling creeps into your very bones, making the hairs on your neck stand on edge and your shoulder blades tingle. The sense that you're being watched, and more–as you realise that with Nirina and Adam behind you and Emmie and Zach in front of you, it almost feels like you're being escorted. Guarded.

"Hey, Em," you call. Your hand creeps towards your pocket, but with a start you remember you left your knife at home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What's the place we're going called?"

Emmie turns around and flashes you a fanged grin. Your blood turns to ice. "So Above, So Below." And then she pounces--and pushes you straight through the pavement. You don't even have time to scream.

You lose all sense of direction. Up is down and left is right as you fall, fall, fall through a black hole, Emmie's nails still digging into your shoulders, though you're sure if you actually opened your eyes you'd see they're claws. You try to tug yourself loose, but her grip immediately tightens. You hiss when you feel her talons draw blood.

"No getting away, Y/N dear," she giggles into your ear.

Well, at least you know what she–and the others too, by the sound of it–is. Only Bountyhunters can get to the Below or the Above without using one of the doors or passages, instead creating their own temporary ones. You've travelled by Bounty Tunnel before. It's not a memory you cherish. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and hope it'll be over soon.

When you finally make contact, all the air is knocked out of you and for a moment you see nothing but black spots dancing in front of your eyes. Then you suck in a scorching breath and blink, and the familiar stark white ceiling of the Offices comes into view. You groan, and when you try to sit up, your hands catch in ashy grey feathers: your wings have popped. You flush, already feeling Haggar's disapproving scowl digging into your back. How unprofessional, she'd mumble.

Haggar has always hated your guts–even back when you were still loyal to the Below.

Emmie–except she looks nothing like Emmie anymore–tosses her long dark ponytail over her shoulder and sighs. "That was almost too easy. We were told you'd be a challenge."

"I haven't been feeling well," you reply, voice icy as you stand up and shake out your wings. You don't miss the way Emmie's expression sours and suppress a smirk. Bounties don't have wings, and they'll never stop being salty about it. "Also, four against one? That seems a little unfair, even for Management." You pause. "I'm assuming you got hired by Management."

"Of course we got hired by Management, demon," Zach snarls. He runs his fingers through his hair and glares at you, his fangs growing by the second and soon touching his chin. And then his face begins to change, his jaw softening (though not by much), his eyes growing more cat-like, his lips plumping. You frown, because you know this face. You know her.

Zethrid grins, fangs shining in the white LED light. "Long time no see, Y/N." You give a sarcastic wave.

"Yes, Y/N," comes an icy voice from behind you. Your shoulders tense, and your feathers puff involuntarily. "Long time no see indeed."

Haggar glides out of her office doors, and you feel all the stony calm and resistance leave you in one fell swoop. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside you not to look away. She nods her head, once. "My office, Y/N. Now."

"You're so dead," mutters Zethrid as you pass her.

"When I get out of here, you're the first person whose throat I'll slit," you hiss in return.

Haggar slumps in her seat and plucks her looking glass from its stand, making it levitate over her hand and glaring like she has a personal vendetta against it. "If it were up to me, I would already have you burning and hanging from the Grand Hall ceiling," she says, vanishing the mirror in a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore the pang of fear stabbing into your chest. You're gonna be fine, you tell yourself. You're going to be okay. But you find it hard to believe the words.

"But–" the mirror reappears in her other hand– "a certain Prince insisted on keeping you alive." She whirls the looking glass around and it floats in front of your face. Prince Lotor of the Below looks at you with a scrutinising gaze, as if gauging how much you'd be worth on the night market.

"Y/N," he says in a clear voice. You nod, then quickly incline your head in a slight bow. Watch your tongue, Y/N. Watch. Your. Tongue. "No need for that." Lotor snaps his fingers, and you look up again, eyes fixed on the rim of the looking glass, determined not to meet Lotor's. You're afraid of what you might see.

It's silent for a moment, and you keep your mouth shut for as long as you can, but you eventually break. "Forgive me, Lord, but–"

"Shut up." It takes all of your willpower not to cock your head and narrow your eyes in indignation. Lotor leans forward, elbows perched on his desk and fingertips pressed together. His cold gaze is calculating and cruel, and your entire body reels with disgust and hatred. "I didn't keep you alive because I care about what happens to you. Because I don't," he clarifies with a raised eyebrow, and this time you can't keep the grimly sarcastic smile at bay. "I kept you alive because I need you to do a job."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think I'm the right person for any job." You try to keep your voice light and your fists unclenched, but it's a harder task than you want to admit.

"Told him so," Haggar mutters from behind the mirror. You can tell she thoroughly disagrees with being used as a TV-stand. "There are so much more competent candidates for this assignment who actually want to prove themselves and their loyalty to us." You have the feeling she's talking directly to Lotor now. "But no, you just had to get the one rogue who'll do everything in their power to get out from this–"

"Enough," Lotor says coolly, and Haggar clamps her jaw shut, though her eyes flash with murder. You don't know who she wants to kill more at the moment: you or Lotor. "Y/N will do the job, and they'll do it without complaining."

"You sound awfully sure." You've since given up on trying to be respectful. Lotor might be the Prince of the Below, but you had wriggled yourself out of more difficult situations than these before. You're already carefully plotting an escape.

Because the mistake most people make when they see you is that they underestimate you. They think they have you pinned down, and then they loosen their hold and up till now, that has always worked out in your favour–you know how to manipulate people and you know how to get out of the Below. You know every single of the dozens and dozens of passageways leading out onto Middle Ground, and from there on you know how to hide. You've done it before, and managed to keep off their radar for quite a while.

In fact, the only reason they caught you now was because you had been too preoccupied with a certain angel to keep your thoughts straight. A mistake, and one you won't be making again.

"I am sure," Lotor's clear voice cuts through your thoughts and pulls you back to the present. "There's a contract on the desk. Sign it, and we'll give you the details."

You can't stop the startled laugh that bursts past your lips. "A Blank Contract? You expect me to sign a Blank Contract?"

Lotor merely cocks his head and smiles that lazy smile of his.

And then the little looking glass shatters and you yelp, taking a step backwards in surprise, feeling your muscles tense. "I do," his voice says from behind you, and you whirl around just in time to see Lotor sail into Haggar's office.

Haggar gives a sharp sigh and brushes shattered glass off her uniform. "Do you always have to do that? Those mirrors are expensive, you know. I'm gonna have you pay for them if you insist on making a dramatic entrance every time."

Lotor ignores her, his gaze fixed on you. He waves his hand, and a piece of paper appears between his fingers. It's mostly blank, save for one thickly outlined black square with an inscription you can't read from where you stand, but you know what they say: Candidate's signature. "I'm not signing." But your voice has a tremor to it, and you suddenly feel a lot smaller as Lotor strides towards you. It was a lot easier to disrespect the Prince of the Below through a looking glass.

His eyes flash with irritation. "You will." Somehow, those two words hold more threat to them than all the insults the Bounties threw at you earlier.

But you set your jaw and clench your fists. "I'd rather die. I'm. Not. Signing." You had vowed to not ever help the Below in any way, shape or form again. It wasn't worth it.

"Told you so," Haggar sing-songs from behind her desk, a maniacal glint to her eye. "Just take one of the actually competent ones. Let me string them up."

Lotor gives a sharp sigh. "Touch them and I'll be stringing you up." Haggar pouts and crosses her arms. He turns to you, and the coolness in his eyes sends shivers up your spine. The realisation hits you like a freight train. He's done something. He knows something. He would never be this sure of himself if he didn't have an absolutely airtight plan.

Then Lotor waves his hand again, and another mirror you hadn't noticed before–a looking glass spanning from the floor to the ceiling, partially hidden by a black curtain–lights up, and the image you see has all the colour drain from your face and your heart skip a beat.

Allura is tied to a chair and breathing hard, her nurse's scrubs hanging crookedly, torn and dirty. A nasty cut spans from her cheekbone to her eyebrow, and blood runs down the side of her face. Tears mix with the grime and blood smearing her cheeks. Behind her stand Emmie and Zethrid the Bountyhunters, crazed smiles painted upon both their faces.

As soon as she sees you, Allura lets out a strangled cry that is muffled by the gag strung over her mouth. Her eyes widen, and you rush forward, stopping just short of the mirror's surface, afraid to break it. Your shaking fingertips hover just shy of the surface before you pull them back to your chest. Tears threaten to spill past your eyes, so you push them down and try to take a breath.

"Is this real?" You know how hallucinations work. You know how powerful illusions can be, and you know exactly how useful of a tool they can be in manipluation. It's a tool you've used yourself.

"Maybe. Maybe not," says Lotor's soft voice. His breath washes over the side of your face, and you can feel sick rise in your throat. All compusure is lost. It's all or nothing now. Thoughts muddle and get mixed up in your mind until all you can focus on is Allura, terrified and hurt, sitting in front of you yet separated by a thin sheet of glass and who knows how many miles.

A crazy thought of Maybe I can free her pops up, but you beat it down immediately again. You don't know where she is. You don't know if this is even real. Lotor would immediately order her killed if you attempted anything remotely similar to a breakout. Then kill Lotor, a ragged voice in your mind screams.

"Come, come, no rash decisions now," Lotor says as if he just read your thoughts. His hands ghost over your shoulders, sliding down until they reach your elbows. He gently forces them to your sides, and you don't even have the strength in you to resist. A fresh stream of tears runs down Allura's cheeks, and she weakly thrashes against her bonds, and in the end, that's what yanks you out of your stupor.

Your chin snaps up. "So you'll let her go if I sign the contract?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "Look whose wits have returned to them." He lets go of your elbows and takes a step toward the mirror, hands clasped behind his back and his hungry gaze raking across Allura's form. She looks up at him with a mix of hatred and fear in her eyes. She's given up struggling against the ropes, but her jaw is set, and her eyes are steely; terrified, but determined. Her gaze flicks back to you and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.

Lotor reels back and laughs, the sound booming within the office walls. He shakes his head, still chuckling, his long silvery hair swishing behind him as he stalks back to the desk and swoops up the contract. "Feisty. I like that. Doesn't have the slightest clue of what's going on but still tells you to not do the thing you obviously don't want to do." He flashes you a fanged grin that makes your blood run cold. "I just might pay her a visit later myself."

"That's Middle Ground, my Prince," you manage through gritted teeth. "I'll find and kill you before you even have a chance to knock on her door."

"That's some confidence you've got right there, Y/N. Keep it for the job."

"I haven't signed your contract yet."

Lotor cocks his head and his grin widens. "Yet being the keyword here."

You turn back to the mirror, scanning Allura for any sign that she might not be real, looking for something that might hint that her image is off. Something. Anything. But your manic brain is running in circles, looking for loopholes that might not even be there, and you know you're not making sense, because the chance that she's just an illusion is there, but on the off-chance that she isn't, that she actually is in danger–

You would never forgive yourself if she were to get hurt and you could have put a stop to it.

"It's possible," you breathe, your hands curling to fists. "It's possible that none of this is real."

Lotor nods as if your words are perfectly reasonable. "True." There's a beat of silence, and his feverish eyes bore into yours. "But are you willing to take that risk?"

Anyone else–any proper demon–would have laughed in his face and torn the contract to shreds, watching gleefully as Allura got tortured in front of their eyes. But you had left behind your demon ways a good while ago, and you had always been a rotten pupil anyway. So you bite your tongue and snatch the contract and pen from Lotor's waiting fingers, scribbling your signature down hard enough that you pierce the paper.

"See, I knew you'd come around in the end!" He claps his hands in delight and throws a triumphant glance Haggar's way. "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, waving a hand as if to dismiss his words. She gives you a slightly disapppointed stare. "I was rooting for you, kiddo. Show some spine next time."

You fight the tears threatening to spill and slap the now-signed contract back onto the desk. "All right. Details, Lotor. What's the assignment?"

His eyes flash. Business; there's something he knows. "We received word that one of the Above's most prized angels has just gone rogue." He starts pacing, and your eyes keep finding Allura's behind him–but she looks at you with pity and something that's almost disappointment, and you have to look away before you break down completely. "It came out of nowhere, too: stellar record, followed orders without a second thought. A great soldier." You don't miss the punch behind the words.

"And you want me to do, what, kill him?" That wouldn't be too hard. At least, you think. Your mind is still a bit muddy, but something ugly and twisted inside you is still desperate for Management's approval. Still eager to prove yourself. I can be a good soldier too.

"Oh no, no," Lotor says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I just want you to find him and bring him in. It shouldn't be that hard to do–after all, who better to track a rogue than another rogue themselves?"

There's still something else. Something he isn't telling you. Sure, you're good at what you do–at what you used to do–but was it worth going through all the trouble just to get you to sign the stupid contract? As much as you loathed to do it, you silently had to agree with Haggar on this one. There were so many young demons scrambling for their chance to prove themselves and their worth–why not let them take this assignment?

"That–that's it?"

Lotor cocks a brow. "I mean, unless you wanted more work, I guess that's it.'

You give a cautious nod. "Okay. So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. My sources weren't able to provide very recent information–"

"Get better sources."

"–But what they do know is that this particular angel has been off the map for years. Quite like you," he adds as he raises his other eyebrow. You roll your eyes. "He's impossible to find, quite hard to track, and a very skilled fighter. Rumour has it he's scouring your city's streets at the moment."

You resist a frown. If this guy has been prowling your streets and you haven't noticed, something is definitely amiss. Might just be that you've been preoccupied with Keith and everything that happened around him, but if this has been going on for as long as Lotor is implying it has... this just might prove an actual challenge.

The old feeling of excitement and anticipation starts to run through your very bones again, and you hate the way it makes you feel–energised. As if you can handle anything thrown your way. Ready. It's a feeling you haven't known in years, and one you haven't missed, though now that it courses through your veins again there's no point in denying that you're enjoying it. The thrill of the chase.

But then Lotor speaks the name of the angel you're supposed to bring in, and everything falls into place, only to shatter into a million pieces a split second after.

You see his lips move. Hear the words spoken, though they take a moment to get processed, and when they do they leave behind an emptiness that has you stare at him, too dumbfounded and untrusting of yourself to speak.

It can't be. This must be the universe's idea of a cruel joke. The very guy you'd risked everything for–the very angel that had caused your distractedness and is the reason you were here in the first place–is the same rogue angel about whom you had just signed a contract.

The crushing weight of it settles on your shoulders. All five days of you struggling to keep him breathing, for nothing. The weird excursion to Coran's shop, for nothing. The goddamn chinese takeout you'd bought for him, for fucking nothing.

But somehow you manage to keep your face straight, and Lotor hadn't been watching you as he said it, instead gazing intently at something over your head, so you can only hope he hasn't noticed the lurch in your expression at the mention of Keith Kogane.

"All right." You're almost shocked at how steady your voice is. "Okay. I've agreed. You got what you want. Now, free Allura." Even though your voice is pretty steady, you curl your hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Lotor doesn't move for a moment, and you seriously begin to think he's having a seizure until he snaps his fingers and Emmie lunges forward.

In her hand is a knife, and she plunges it into Allura's chest without a second of hesitation.

You rush toward the mirror, a strangled "No!" ripped from your throat. Your fingers claw at the smooth glass surface and you watch her slump, blood gushing from the wound and staining her scrubs a dark crimson. Your knees buckle, and your eyes stay glued to her form as she convulses, coughs up blood twice, then goes limp. Her head falls back...

And snaps back up, and you lurch back with a startled cry. Allura's eyes have gone red and are shining with mania. Her skin turns the colour of wet ash, and her hair falls out of its updo and cascades down her shoulders, tendrils black and writhing as if they have a mind of their own...

Demon.

Shapeshifter.

Your breathing comes in short and shallow rasps as the full realisation of things settles in. Allura was never in danger. You were right all along. If only you had put your foot down. If only you hadn't let your feelings cloud your mind.

It doesn't matter now. You signed a contract–and there's no going back from that.

Lotor fingers through the file that bears your signature in black ink. Slowly, the words explaining just what you signed start to appear on the sheets, snaking their way along the curves of the paper as if written in by an invisible hand. A steel fist clenches around your heart, and you struggle to stand up, your muscles turned to jelly. The surface of the mirror has gone black again.

A shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, and your teeth clench down on your lower lip so hard that they draw blood. Lotor flicks his wrist, and the contract disappears. The fingers of your free hand twitch as if they wanted to grab at the file. You level your gaze with Lotor's, and evidently your years of training finally paid off in the end, because in his eyes you can see how passive your expression is. You'd be a good poker player, your fleeting mind thinks randomly. The only thing giving away your current emotions is the hand mindlessly tugging at your bottom lip, and the fact that your breathing is still rather fast.

"Now," Lotor drawls in his honey-coated voice–sugary sweet, sticky, suffocating–and snakes an arm around your shoulders, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

And you know you should keep your mouth shut, because he is the Prince of the Below, and Haggar has already expressed her desire to string you up and set you on fire in the Grand Hall for every new recruit to see–but on the other hand, you just signed a contract, and that makes you technically untouchable until Lotor has reason to believe you won't be able to complete the task set out for you.

The very foundation of a plan starts coming together in your mind. You jut up your chin and break free from his grasp. "So do I get assignment-issue gear? A blade? A gun, maybe? If this angel is as good as you make him out to be, perhaps I should need some more useful weapons than your average kitchen knife."

Lotor scrutinises you for a moment, then waves his hand. A set of gleaming double blades appear on Haggar's desk, along with their sheaths and long black gloves. Haggar huffs with an indignant mutter of Sure, use my desk as your summoning surface. Don't mind at all. You ignore her and lift an eyebrow. "That's all you're going to give me?"

"If you're as good as you say, this is all you will need," Lotor replies in that smooth tone of his. His eyes glint; he's gotten what he wanted. He's already won.

But that's fine. Lotor may have won this battle, and you need to make him feel like he has, but in the end you'll do everything in your power to win the war. And Lotor just handed you the weapons that just might be able to get you there.

"Fine," you mutter, snatching up the knives, pointedly refusing to strap them to your back like is procedure, instead securing the harnesses to your thighs as a small act of defiance. Irritation flashes in his eyes. "I'll report to you how often?"

"No reports," Lotor says with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to make any potential spies of the Above suspicious. Just make sure you find him, and when you do..." He tosses you a little disk about the size of a large coin, and you startle at how heavy it is. It's pleasantly warm to the touch, and you have a creeping suspicion as to what it is that is only confirmed with Lotor's next words. "Portal pass. Use it wisely."

You turn the pass over and over in your hands, the familiar weight of the knives at your thighs comforting and seeming to pull you down to the ground at the same time. "Is that–will that be all?" Risky words, risky questions–you're going out on a limb and assume Lotor won't have you hanged for running your mouth: he did just pretend to torture your best friend to coerce a signature out of you, so you suppose he has to give you some slack.

He sails to a halt in front of you, face so close his nose almost touches yours, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling. His expression is cold, his gaze calculating–and the smile that creeps up his lips sends shivers up our spine. "Yes. I think that will be all." He raises a brow and throws a glance Haggar's way, which you find comical as he didn't seem to give a solid fuck about her opinions when he used her office as his personal torture chamber.

Haggar shrugs. "I still think we should string them up and burn them to a crisp."

"Yes, Haggar, I know. Why did I even bother." He gives you a lazy flick of his hand, but you've already turned and your hand is resting on the doorknob, when something occurs to you and you cast a look at him over your shoulder.

"My Prince?" The title feels like hot oil searing down your throat, but you expect the words you're about to say require this small bit of courtesy. He raises a brow and nods. "I'm going to kill the Bounties that brought me here." Your voice sounds oddly bored.

Lotor chuckles. "They're no demons. They don't have a place in the Below." It's like his gaze issues a challenge, and a fresh wave of loathing for this Prince washes over your being. "Go right ahead."

You flash a cold smile and slam the door shut.

– – –

You wipe your blades with some wet wipes and discard them in the trashcan beside you when they get too filthy with blood (the store clerk barely looked up when you came in and purchased a single packet of wet wipes and a duffel bag–apparently the average cashier sees weirder stuff than a maniac with bloodied hunting knives the size of their forearms slamming a pack of wet wipes on the counter on a daily basis). Emmie, Adam, Zethrid and Nirina's bodies have long since turned to dust, and you have to work to keep your breathing steady and to stop your eyes from glowing red as the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder rings.

Allura picks up on the fourth ring. "'Sup?"

It was just a check. Just to make sure. But if Allura truly did just get tortured, you have a feeling she wouldn't pick up a phone call with a simple 'Sup?

"Hey. How was your day?" Your speech comes out slightly slurred, and Allura laughs on the other side of the line.

"Fine. Work, you know. Routine." You can almost hear the grin on her face as she says, "And you? Weren't you supposed to be at work too, today?"

Work. Work feels like such a long time ago--when it was in reality only a couple of hours back. You nod slowly, though it's more to convince yourself than anything else. "Yeah. I was. Some co-workers and I went to get smoothies afterwards. To welcome me back," you joke.

"Did they pay?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you. Free milkshake. I'm jealous."

You laugh, but it feels hollow in your chest. "Hey--I need to run now, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Sweet of you to check in, Y/N."

You eye the gleaming blade, running a finger along its razor-sharp edge. "No problem."

After you hang up, you sit back against the wall digging into your back, forcing down the pumping feeling in your limbs.

It's something you've missed, and you can't deny it. The absolute exhilaration you feel when your blades make contact, the thrumming of adrenaline in your veins as you dodge to avoid the blows that four individual enemies are throwing at you. The fear in Zethrid's eyes when she realises she is the only one left standing, and the life seeping from her eyes as you slit her throat.

It doesn't make you feel good, exactly–especially now that the thrill of the moment has worn off and you just feel tired and there's an ache that has burrowed itself deep into your bones–but there's no replicating the rush of power that courses through your very being when you're the one in control.

When the blades of death are yours to wield.

The knives are now securely stored in your new black duffel, and you try and figure out how you're going to pull off bringing two huge knives home without rousing suspicion from Keith. You internally debate whether you shouldn't just find a safe space to stash the duffel until you need it. There are quite a few nooks and crannies you know no one in their right mind would look, but then again, this was a big city. There were plenty of creepier people prawling these streets than the occasional demon.

And then you pass a gym, and an idea sparks in your head.

After casually shoplifting a bunch of sportswear from the nearest Nike store, you return to the gym with the knives in your bag hidden by the copious amounts of t-shirts and trainers stacked on top of them. You get a locker and stuff the bag inside before making your way outside again, smiling at the desk guy as you leisurely stroll out of the gym. The guy narrows his eyes at you–your clothes are still slightly torn and dirty, and you're pretty sure you have a bruise forming on the right side of your cheek, but you don't pay him any mind. He works at a gym. He's seen stranger than you.

But the closer you get to your apartment, the heavier the portal pass starts to feel in your pocket, and the more insecure your steps become. The sun hangs low over the city skyline, but hasn't completely started to set yet, and soft golden light washes over the streets, making them look... wrong. Bleak. Colour in a place where colour shouldn't be. You had just killed in these streets, and nobody noticed.

The thought makes you feel kind of sorry for the Bounties. They would be missed by no one.

You're still lost in thought when you almost hit a door and you snap back to reality. Your feet had carried you all the way up to your apartment. You blinked hard, rubbed a hand over your face and fumbled for your keys.

"Hey. It's me. Did you burn the house down while I was gone?"

Keith looks up from where he sits on an armchair–your armchair, but you understand he wouldn't want to spend another minute on the couch he spent five days on, hallucinating out of his mind–and grins, and your heart does a leap. And then he frowns, and you freeze, and your immediate thought is Oh fuck, he's found me out, he knows everything, he's going to call the other angels and he's going to kill me–

But the words he speaks are soft with concern. "What happened to your face?" And it takes all of your willpower not to break down right then and there.

He puts down the book he was reading and walks over to you, eyebrows knotted with worry, and reaches out to touch your forehead. Only then does he seem to realise how close to you he's standing, and he quickly pulls his fingers back to his chest. They're red with blood. "Let's get that disinfected, yeah?"

Before you can answer, he's already started towards your kitchen. You blink, still stunned, before following him like you're in a daze. He looks over his shoulder and points to a kitchen chair. You plop down, and it's when the weight is taken off your legs that the exhaustion comes crashing into you at breakneck speed, and it takes all your strength not to plunk your head down on the kitchen table and just pass out.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

You vaguely point to a cabinet below the sink, and moments later Keith plops the kit down beside you on the table and plucks out a wad of cotton and disinfecting spray. You don't even feel it sting when he gently dabs at the cut on your forehead and cheekbone. His eyes are firmly trained on the cotton, his dark brows furrowed–there's a little crease between them that your foggy self finds most endearing–and he's chewing absent-mindedly on his bottom lip.

With a shock, you realise this is the closest you've been to him. Ever. This is the first time you can properly study his face, and you can always blame your muddy mind later if he brings up how blatantly you were staring at him, so you let yourself drink in every feature of his face. You find yourself drawn to his eyes most; they're a stunning deep violet, the colour of the sky at twilight, when the sun has just set and the last rays of light streak the heavens with purple. Most of all, they're soft with concern and simultaneously fierce with a kind of fire you haven't seen on him before.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Keith's eyes briefly flicker to yours, and he gives an awkward shrug before going back to gently rubbing at your wounds. "It's none of my business. You haven't asked me about what I was doing on Middle Ground in the first place, and I won't stick my nose into what doesn't concern me." But the words sound like he's reciting them; like a lesson he learned at school. You can see in his eyes that he is in fact curious, but also that he isn't going to press further. How very angelic of him.

You purse your lips, fingering the portal pass in your jacket pocket.

Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, like someone took all your emotions and threw them in a blender. Every moment you spend with Keith in your kitchen–how is it you always end up in the kitchen?–you grow more sure that you can't turn him in. But the contract pulls at your insides, and you know that if you keep ignoring its contents it will keep gnawing at you until you can't take it anymore and snap.

The contract is the contract. Binding and eternal.

"Keith."

His hand freezes, and you carefully guide it to the table, gently forcing him to put down the cotton. "Thank you, really. But I'm okay. I promise."

He nods. Slowly. "Okay."

And oh, how you want to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but that would make things a thousand times more complicated than they already are–

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop. It's the exhaustion talking, you firmly tell yourself, before you yank your fingers back and stand. You're a bit wobbly, but you manage. Keith wisely doesn't attempt to help you, but you can feel his eyes boring into your back as you make your way to your bedroom.

You change. You brush your teeth. You splash some water in your face to clear your head. Everything happens in a haze, your mind too tired to think about anything at all.

But then your eye falls on a piece of paper resting on your pillow. You frown and pick it up, and your eyes widen when you recognise your own scraggly handwriting littering the little parchment card. A hand flies up to your mouth to muffle your startled scream, and you drop the card as if it just burned your fingertips, though your eyes stay glued to its surface.

The words I want Keith to be okay stare back up at you, and with every passing second your breathing gets quicker and more ragged. Your fingers tingle, and as you draw a tentative breath you sink down onto the mattress. Your fingers tingle, but they tingle with warmth, and the feeling is not unpleasant.

Where Keith's own skin brushed yours, the chill that had seeped into your very core and had burrowed there for days, leaving you in a constant state of stiff cold, dissipated. The feeling is so weirdly foreign after having only felt cold for days that you dumbly stare out into nothingness, trying to shake the heat out of your hand. It doesn't work. It feels good, and you want more of it.

For a moment, the contract leaves your mind, replaced by Keith's eyes, the way he'd looked up at you, all softness and worry; the gentleness of his fingers as they cleaned the shallow cuts on your face. You close your eyes and lean back, the little parchment card on the floor seeming to beg for your attention. You never knew paper could be this loud.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to think of Keith and not just see an angel–but something more.

[jeonsduck]

Prince or the Pauper

This is going to be a dual reality fic. In one version, Yuta is a distant relative of the Japanese Imperial family. In the other, he's a simple farmer in the country side. He's a total heartthrob either way. 

Part 1: Prince

The first time you meet Yuta, he's staring into a display case at a Starbucks, frowning. He's dressed to the nines, strange for campus, but not so strange for him. He's squinting over the rim of his Ray Bans at a sad assorment of prebaked cakes and cookies. "Why does all the cheesecake here suck? Hey, do you know a good place to get cheesecake around here?" You startle, because suddenly that well dressed man is looking at you and speaking to you, and wow, he's absolutely gorgeous. He's not frowning anymore, smiling in an attempt to be amicable, and its so pretty you almost snort latte through your nose. You do manage to choke quite spectacularly, however, and the pretty man's expression morphs into one of panic. "Oh, my are you alright? I'm so sorry!" He flutters his hands about rather uselessly and it only serves to fluster you more, as you try to cover your face and hide behind your hands. You're sure you're blushing wildly but he still seems quite intent on making sure you're okay before he backs off. Which means he's hovering your face, only serving to fluster you more, until he talks to one men in suits surrounding you both. Woah, have they been there the whole time? "We have water in the car right?" He asks. The man in the suit makes a face and speaks into his earpiece (earpiece?) in rushed Japanese. "Yes sir." He confirms. "Good, have them bring it around. And get my doctor on the phone in case we need to go to a hospital." Pretty man orders all while you're still trying to calm down. Hospital? You still haven't caught your breathe so you can't voice any concerns about what the hell is going on. A black SUV with tinted windows pulls up to the curb, and the whole group ushers you outside and into this car, which only makes you freak out MORE because are you getting kidnapped right now? You have a history exam in two days! Once you're in, the pretty man reaches into a cooler and pulls out a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and offering it to you with a smile. You accept and chug down half the bottle before coming up for air. The pretty man takes the bottle back and looks at you so concered that you get worried for yourself. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to scare you." He says and he sounds so actually sorry that you shake your head. "No, I'm fine really! Uhm?" You realize that you've been calling him 'Pretty Man' in your head this whole time. "Oh yeah! I'm Nakamoto Yuta!" There's that smile again as he holds his hand out. You nod and accept his handshake. "Im Y/N. Its nice to meet you." Yuta smiles wider, if that's even possible. "So, cheesecake? Know any good spots?" You look around, eyes wide. What? Is he really still on about cheesecake? "Uh, I follow this place on instagram, but its really ritzy-" you start to say pulling the account up on your phone becuase why not? When Yuta interrupts you with a wave of his hand to the driver. "Wherever he says go there." The guy nods and you rattle of the address of the bakery. He nods back and starts driving. You're still very confused as to what exactly is happening here but Yuta quickly distracts you with more questions. "I'm so sorry about earlier, are you sure you're all right? We could go to a hospital just to make sure. I'd hate for you to fall sick because of me." "It's fine really, I'm okay. More upset that I left my drink." You groan. "And my bag! Ugh." Yuta's eyes widen and he starts babbling apologies as he dials a number on his phone. It doesn't even ring before its answered. He speaks Japanese into the phone and you're starting to piece together some kind of picture of who Yuta is. Maybe just a really nice super rich foriegn exchange student? "I sent the other car back for your things, they'll catch up with us at the bakery. I'm so sorry about that." Yours eyes widen in shock for probably the hundreth time in ten minutes. The other car? What? "We're here, sir." Yuta claps his hands and the two guys in suits (bodyguards?) get out to open the doors for you and Yuta. The guard places his arm over the gap between the door and the car as you get out which is weird at the least. Then you realize if he is a bodyguard that's him shielding you in case someone takes a shot at you and who the hell are you with right now?? Yuta walks into the bakery with a smile, darting right over to the display case. You oggle at the decor for a while. This place looks more like a jewelry shop than a bakery. "Y/N! Come on!" Yuta beckons you over with enthusiastic waves of his hand. The bodyguards that followed you in take up positions by the door. Strange choice considering the whole front wall of the shop is flass but you're not a bodyguard, they are. You scuttle over to where Yuta is fogging up the glass with how close he is to the case. "Which one do you usually get?" He asks. "Oh I've never actually eaten here before. Its a bit out of my ballpark." You say with a chuckle. Yuta looks up at you and nods before tugged you down to be level with him. "So then which one do you want to try?" He asks instead. "Oh, no I couldn't! The pieces are so-" Yuta cuts you off with an imploring look that someone simultaneously says 'Please choose one.' And 'I will buy you this cake if its the last thing I do.' So you concede. "So big. I couldn't finish one on my own. Let's pick something we both like, and share?" You offer, and you get rewarded with that blinding smile. You look into the case and try to fight down a blush. "How's smore's sound?" Yuta nods and calls over a staff member. "One smore's for here." "Yes sir, that'll be thirty five dollars." You choke when you hear the total but Yuta doesn't flinch, handing over a suspiciously dark colored credit card. He leads you to a table by the window and sits you down. He folds his hands and props his head upcon them, staring at you. "You have no idea who I am do you?" He asks. "Other than your name is Yuta? Nope." You say hoping for an explanation. Yuta just smiles, almost shyly. "Good. I'm not going to tell you either." He smirks and oh no that's worse than the smile. "Hey, how's that fair?" You rebuke. You're going to go insane trying to figure this man out. "It isn't. In fact it's so very selfish of me. But its nice to meet someone who doesn't know who I am. Refreshing." He says, shrugging. "Okay, I guess that's alright." You settle. Maybe you can google him when you get home. Yuta smiles again and you're saved from anymore of your braincells dying by the staff coming out with the cheesecake. It is indeed, quite huge. Really a tower. It's pretty, drizzled in marshmallow fluff and chocolate syrup and decorated with gold leaf. You reach for a fork but pause when you see one of the bodyguards approaching the table. He picks up a fork and sniffs the cake before eating it slowly. You watch as he does this totally confused. He wrinkles his face, obviously not enjoying the taste. "Safe, but sweet. Too sweet." He says. You stare blankly as Yuta digs in considering that you just watched a bodyguard tatse Yuta's food for him. "Come on, try some, its great." Yuta says, snapping you out of a stupor. He's offering you a bite on his fork and you accept it. It is good. Really good. So good in fact, you end up fighting Yuta for the last bite. You win and smugly pop the last bite in your mouth, but,the look on Yuta's face tells you he let you win. He chuckles as he stands, stretching and thanking the staff. "We should probably get you home right?" Yuta pionts out. The sun is setting now, and you would have already been back home on a normal day. Your bag is already in the SUV when you get back in. Interesting. Yuta hums to himself and asks you a few questions about yourself on the way to your dorm.  What are you majoring in, qhqt are your hobbies, what's your favorite food. Trivial stuff. He doesn't give you a free moment to ask to many questions back, but you do manage to wheddle out that he likes soccer. Trying to imagine Yuta in a soccer uniform is suprisingly easy and you think he'd look great. When you arrive he gets out to walk you up to the door. "It was nice to meet you Yuta." Yuta chuckles. "It was an honor to meet you. Truly." Yuta takes your hand and kisses it, winking all the while. Then he turns on his heel and leaves. You blush furiously and scurry inside, running upstairs and throwing you bag on your desk before flopping into bed and smiling goofily at the ceiling. Who the hell is Nakamoto Yuta?

[dont-leav-eme]

Insecure

An angsty TinCan fanfiction

Can felt pin pricks hit his eyes, as he watched Tin and Pete from a far. The two looked so good together, Can gulped.He hated the way Tin looked at Pete, his eyes were so gentle, how could they not be. Pete was pastel colours. Soft, pretty and totally sweet. Can was like fluorestant, far far to bright. And would hurt Tins eyes if he looked to long at him.

Just then Good came to Can side, he gently pat Can sweaty shoulder. Leading to Can to sigh softly.

‘Oh Ai Good, Why do I care so much about this?’

‘Can...what...is..this????’ Good replied with his usually slow tempo of speech. It reminded him of Tins slow heart beat when he rested his head on Tins well built chest.

Why doesn’t his heart beat as fast as mine?

‘Oiiiiii!’ Can shook himself like a dog and pointed at the sight of Tin and Pete studying together.

‘Your....boyfriend...is....just...studying?’

‘But he’s with Pete!’ And he looks at him like he’s the whole world.

Good just looked even more confused, his black hair blowing in the wind. Can studied his face, he felt so frustrated, even Good would be a better fit for Tin. Handsome face, quiet. God what was Tin doing with a boy like Can???

‘Whatever I’m going to the toliet!’ Can rushed off, stomping in to the bathroom, looking at his face in the mirror. He frowned. He looked like a kid, a dumb stupid kid with a bad hair cut. Not a man who could take out one of the most rich teenager of Bangkok. A man who could kiss that same teenager, make that teenager moan his own name. Sex with Tin felt unreal, it was unreal that Tin wanted to be that close to someone like him.

Can left the bathroom with a huff.

He felt a hand grab his wrist, a large hand, smooth to the touch. Can hated that touch, that touch made him feel weak, and he didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. Without hesitation Tin pulled Can in to his strong arms.

‘I missed you.’ Tin breathed in to Cans shoulder

Yeah, missed what? Cans annoying noises or Cans clumsiness?

‘Hmmmm’ Can said, he loosed himself from Tins grip.

‘You could see me, but you always seem so busy with Pete.’ Damn Can thought, he wish he could stop his motor mouth.

Tin looked in his eyes. A small smile appearing on his lips.

‘You’re jealous, eh Cantaloupe?’

Can felt his chest tighten, a hot steam seemed to hit the bottom of his stomach.

Why did Tin do that? Giggle at Can? Aren’t boyfriends meant to be sweet?

‘No!’ Can said, too quickly. He suddenly wanted to hide, hide away from Tins smile, hide away from Tins soft inviting lips and his all knowing eyes.

‘ I have stuff to do,bye!’ Can said quickly again, he nearly tripped over himself to get away from the older man.

‘ Can-‘ Tin called after him but Can pretended not to hear him.

-Time Skip-

Tin stood outside his car, waiting for the smaller excited boy. He wondered what was fully wrong with the boy. His cold edged face didn’t show it, but he was shaken to his core. He’d only been dating Can for a couple of months, but he felt like he was walking on the worlds thinnest glass. He didn’t derserve someone so sweet, who smiles lit up the whole world. What if this is it, he thought, that Can would see what Tin was, a stupid broken boy. And break his heart. It would hurt more then last time because he’d already had a taste of the boy.

And when Can walked up to Tin, a stromy look in his eyes, Tin opened his car door. Might as well get this over with.

The two sat quietly. It was unusual for Can.

‘Ai Tin...’ Can said at first and trailed off.

‘Hmmmm’ Tin braced himself for the blow, he shut his eyes waiting for the break up to come but instead

‘ Why do you like me?’ Can asked. The question came out all in one breath.

‘ you help me breathe.’ Tin replied his response automatic.

Can gave a whine ‘ No, Ai Tin, don’t talk in riddles, I mean ‘ he paused ‘ Looks wise’

Tin raised an eyebrow. He turned to face Can. He had seen this face in so many different emotions, hurt, happiness, wild laughter, smugness and of course absolute pleasure.

‘ Oh Can’ he ruffelled his hair ‘ I like everything, I like it your eyes, they are so bright I feel I’m being so blinded, I like your smile, I can’t describe the feelings I have when you smile at me Cantaloupe, ‘

‘Ah,Ai Tin don’t use that na-‘ Tin stopped him with a finger to his lips.

‘ You asked me a question, don’t interrupt me; I like how your ears go red when you blush, like they are doing now, I like your dark hair, it’s soft. Your fringe it’s so cute, you look so young. You are so cute. I like your body, I like how slim and small you are, but you are so strong it’s hot when you grab me, it makes me feel so wanted...’ Tin didn’t even know what he saying at this point but he couldn’t stop, his mouth felt like a run away train.

‘ I like that mole on the back of your neck, its like a little button, and your hands , your hands are so small, so soft, so gentle.’ He grabed Cans hand for effected and kissed it softly.

Can gulped as Tins eyes landed on his face. He replayed the sentenses over and over in his mind. His face was burning. 

‘If you feel all that, why do you spend all your time without me, why do you not touch me that much anymore, am I just a stand for Ai Pete, I always see you with him, you better not be making things for him and Ae difficult!’ He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn’t help it, his mind told him not to believe the things that Tin said about him. 

‘Do you not trust me, Can?’ Tin asked a steely quality in his voice ‘After all that, you don’t believe me, why don’t you believe me?’ 

Can was thrown by Tin edge in his voice. 

‘Ai Tin! I don’t understand, its all so complex, why does it feel so easy and so complex at the same time, why is someone like you with someone,’Can couldn’t help it, he felt the pin prick of tears in his eyes ‘with someone like me? I don’t believe you can’ He felt the tears roll down his cheek ‘c-c-an feel like that towards me, to s-s-see me -like t-t-that,’ Can felt his protective walls fall, the ones that kept him so happy and unthinking, ones that hid his deep self loathing. ‘Pete looks be-b-etter with y-y-you, I-i’m’

He then felt Tin go towards him, he hugged him. He pated Can softly, trying to calm him down.

‘Can, its okay, look Im sorry, I promise you, I promise you, its you. You are never a stand in, Pete isn’t ever going to get between us, I promise. I’m sorry, its the exams, I really need to do well. and you are so distracting, I know if I study with you, I’ll touch you and If I touch you a lot, I’ll not be able to stop till your sore’

‘Ai Tin!’ Can hit his arm softly, but he was at least smiling now.

‘How long have you felt like this?’ Tin asked

‘Long time’ Can mummbled in to Tins shoulder

‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’

Can hiccuped, his voice shaking still ‘ I didn’t want to burden you with it, you are so strong Ai Tin’ he looked in to Tins shining eyes. ‘You’ve been through so much, I just wanna be your sunshine.’

‘You are’ Tin said ‘do you know how scared I am that you will lose interest in me, everytime I see you, and I don’t want you too, nothing in my life has ever made me this happy.’

Can looked at the older man, sitting in the car next to him. He had a way with words, Can wondered where he learnt how to spoke this way.

‘I always want to make you happy’

And with that Tin started his car, smiling softly. And if Tin had asked Can what he liked about Tins looks, he would say his smile, the one where Tins eyes shut slightly. But it would be a while until Can could tell Tin that.