#id rather melt through the mattress thanks

[its--ali]

man i really should get out of bed and do shit

but bed.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

Hi! how about one where Levi and his fem s/o sleep together for the first time and reader finds out that Levi sleep talking about how much he loves her and that he's very lucky to have her in his life. The next morning when they wake up reader teases him about it and he's very embarassed? Thank you so much, I’m sorry for my bad English. I love you❤️

A/N: Hello anon! 💕Thank you so much for requesting, this idea just had my heart melting and I loved it because I sleep talk all the time (when I actually manage to sleep) so it was fun to write based on experience (curtesy of my sis & friends telling me about my sleep talk endeavors). I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get it out to you, my ADHD has been really out of control lately. I really struggle with it sometimes, so I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long. I’ve also been having horrible migraines on and off for the past couple days so that’s what the beginning of the story was inspired by 😅. Thank you so much for your patience, I really appreciate it. Also your english is absolutely fine, love! I hope this is what you were looking for! ❤️

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Ghost on the Shore” By: Lord Huron” 🐉

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🔥Woman of My Dreams 🔥

(Y/N) knew she was supposed to be working, helping Captain Levi with his massive load of paperwork, but she couldn’t focus for the life of her, too distracted by the pained look on her captain’s face. He must’ve felt her watching him, because he glanced up at her, his eyes distant and slightly glazed but narrowed, silently telling her to get back to work. She scowled at him and turned her gaze back to the stack of proposals in her lap, chewing on the end of her pen as she attempted to refocus on the words in front of her. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept straying back to the raven-haired man at his desk, his occasional grunts and annoyed sighs alerting her to his struggle.

(Y/N) was always in awe of her boyfriend’s work ethic, constantly left wondering how someone with so much stress could still manage to push forward. He never seemed to fail at anything he tried, and he constantly pushed his mind and body to the limits, foregoing the need for rest and food in favor of getting everything done in one night. But while that part of her would always be proud of him and his ability to do so much, another part of her hated it. She hated how he’d sacrifice his own health for the sake of others, pushing himself until his body nearly shut down. Tonight, was one of those nights.

She knew Levi had a horrendous migraine. He was usually prone to the headaches that seemed to crack the skull open, but this one seemed particularly awful. He was constantly massaging his forehead and his eyes were unfocused and filled with pain. Tiny whimpers and groans would occasionally escape him, showing her just how much it was affecting him. Levi was usually able to push through the pain and suffer in silence, but this migraine of his seemed intent on making him as miserable as possible. He hadn’t finished more than two pages of work since they had started, and it was clear he was nearing his breaking point.

Knowing his preference for powering through the pain, (Y/N) usually left him to his own devices when he had a migraine like this, trying to make his life easier in more subtle ways like bringing him tea and helping him with more paperwork than usual, but this time, she refused to ignore it. It was clear he was too stubborn to admit he needed to rest and someone had to look after him and make sure he didn’t kill himself.

Setting the remaining reports off to the side, (Y/N) stood from his couch and made her way over to her lover. Before he could react, (Y/N) leaned over and snatched the pen he held from his grasp, throwing it behind her so it could land randomly somewhere in the office.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?” Levi snapped, his voice raspy and filled with exhaustion.

“I’m tired of watching you work yourself to the bone. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Levi shook his head, “(Y/N), I’m fine.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Like hell you are. Now, stop being stubborn and step away from the desk.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, (Y/N),” Levi said darkly with a huff. “I am still your captain.”

“Well you won’t be anymore if you overwork yourself to death,” (Y/N) retorted. “And don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m your girlfriend, which means it’s my job to worry about your wellbeing, especially if you refuse to do it yourself.”

Levi glared at her, but he was secretly touched by her sentiment. It had taken him a while to get used to the feeling of being loved and cared for, but once he had, he had grown greedy for it. He never showed it, still uncomfortable at the idea of being vulnerable around others, even his own lover, but he would always love how she doted on him, how she made him feel like he was worth something. That if he died, he wouldn’t just be mourned because humanity had lost its strongest soldier. He would be missed, remembered for the man he was rather than just how society had painted him to be. His eyes roved over her usually kind face, now twisted into a frown as she glared right back at him, refusing to back down without getting him the rest he needed. He honestly didn’t know why he was being so stubborn, he knew she was right, but he still struggled to accept her help, almost feeling weak for succumbing to something as trivial as a migraine.

As if she could read his mind, her gaze softened and she let out a gentle sigh. Moving around his desk to stand behind him, she leaned down and laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing and massaging the muscles with her firm fingers. Levi was embarrassed by how quickly he reacted to her touch, immediately leaning back into her grip. His head lolled against the back of his chair and his eyes closed in bliss, temporarily ignoring the blistering pain in his head.

“Feel good?”

Levi hummed.

“See? Accepting help doesn’t make you any less of a man. Getting the rest and relaxation your body needs doesn’t make you weak by any means. Everyone needs the proper energy to take care of themselves, you especially. You’re too important to lose, especially to something as pointless as self neglect. So please stop working tonight, for me.”

Levi was silent for a moment, fighting with himself over the urge to finish his work anyway or fall victim once again to your undeniable charms as well as the insistent demands of his own body. Just as he was about to open his mouth, ready to attempt one last refute, a fresh wave of pain washed over him, making him gasp. A hand flew to his head, his teeth gritted in pain as his very skull seemed to throb. Through the haze, he vaguely felt (Y/N)’s hands tighten on his shoulders and knew there was no way he was going to get out of this. Once she had made up her mind about something, there was no changing it.

For once, Levi didn’t fight it when (Y/N) guided him to stand from his chair, biting his tongue to keep from gasping in pain as the sudden movement made his head split. He stumbled and started to fall, only to be caught by his lover, the strong woman bearing his entire weight as if he were nothing but a feather. A light blush made its way to his cheeks despite the pain that was starting to make his vision blur. He  knew he shouldn’t be shocked, she was in his Special Operations squad for a reason, but she never failed to impress him with her unexpected strength. (Y/N) walked slowly and carefully, making sure to avoid jostling him as she made her way to his bedroom. Nudging the door open, (Y/N) picked her way over to his bedside and pulled the sheets back before gently easing him onto the mattress, ignoring his protests when she began stripping him of his uniform.

His blush got a little darker as she worked on removing his clothes. Their relationship wasn’t new, but it hadn’t been very long either, and they still hadn’t crossed the boundary of physical intimacy yet. He knew she had no ill intent, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling relatively shy at the thought of her seeing him without his uniform.

(Y/N) felt butterflies in her stomach with each article she removed, but she shoved down her embarrassment and awe at his breathtaking form and focused on making him as comfortable as possible. She stopped once he was finally stripped to his boxers and neatly folded his uniform to place on the lone chair in the corner of his room, knowing it would bother him all night if it was thrown around half-hazardly.

Levi’s soft groan of pain brought her back to his bedside, and she quickly shimmied the blankets out from under his legs so she could throw them over his body, taking the extra time to tuck him in as comfortably as possible. As soon as he was nestled beneath the soft blankets, (Y/N) moved to his bathroom to get him some water, holding the glass to his lips for a few sips to help lessen some of the pressure in his head. Finally, she left to grab a small bucket to place beside him just in case he had to vomit in the middle of the night, knowing it might be difficult for him to reach the bathroom if he was dizzy and disoriented.

Placing her hands on her hips, (Y/N) surveyed her work, nodding once she was satisfied with his set up. Flashing him a sweet smile, (Y/N) turned for his bedroom door, her eyes soft and full of love as she watched him.

“Goodnight, Levi, I hope you feel better,” She said, opening the door and stepping through it.

“(Y/N).”

(Y/N) paused, her hand on the edge of the door as she peered back around to look at him, “Yes?”

“Stay with me. Please?” Levi asked, the blush on his cheeks getting even darker as he averted his gaze.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock. She and Levi had been dating for nearly six months and yet he had never asked her something like this. She knew they were going at a slow pace, she knew Levi struggled with expressing his emotions, but she had always been content to go at whatever pace he was comfortable with, knowing he was still very new to the idea of a relationship. It had taken him several weeks for him to even get to the point of treating her differently than the other soldiers on his squad. 

She had never doubted his love for her, even when her friends had seemed skeptical in the beginning. She could see it in his eyes, but it had taken him a long time to be able to express those hidden feelings physically and vocally. She didn’t mind, she was fine with being patient and had waited for him to come to her, allowing him to have the time he needed to find his words and indulge in discovering his own love language. It was fun in a way, a little adventure between the two of them. It made every new sign of affection from him mean so much more than normal; every head pat, every kiss, every hug, making her feel as if she had just conquered the world.

It was because of those experiences that she was able to understand the importance of this moment. Her shy, reclusive, severely touch-starved boyfriend asking her to share his bed with him, exposing that vulnerability to her, albeit innocently, was a huge step in a new direction for him.

The thought made her nervous, not wanting to impose on his personal space or make him uncomfortable with her, but it also filled her with immense pride. He trusted her and only her to be around him when he was at his most vulnerable.

Swallowing her anxiety, (Y/N) nodded and shut the door again. Picking her way across the room, she quietly maneuvered her way to his bedside and slid beneath the covers beside him, trying to make as little noise and movement as possible to avoid causing more pain to his head.

Levi grunted a little as he shifted onto his side, facing away from her while she reached over to the bedside table to diffuse the lantern flame, bathing the room in darkness. Levi felt (Y/N) shift until she was laying on her side, facing his broad back, the covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Goodnight Levi,” (Y/N) murmured.

“Mmm, goodnight,” Levi muttered, the pain in his head coupled with her soothing presence making him drowsier than normal.

(Y/N) smiled when she felt Levi fall asleep, his light snores and gentle breathing filling the otherwise silent air. She was glad he was finally getting some rest, but she knew she would be up for a while. She had had insomnia for as long as she could remember and knew it would be a long time before her brain would shut up long enough for her to get some rest. It was that shared trait between her and the Captain that had allowed her to get close to him in the first place, late night talks with tea leading to moonlit confessions on the roof of their headquarters.

(Y/N)’s smile widened at the memory, and how uncharacteristically nervous the normally stoic Captain had been when he had turned to her that fateful night and practically spat his feelings at her. She knew how hard it had been for him to admit them to her, and she had a small inclination to say that Erwin and Hanji may have been the ones to force him to do it, but that just made the memory all the more special to her. It showed her that he really did care for her, that he was willing to lower his carefully structured walls and bare his battered heart for her alone. It was why it didn’t bother her that he didn’t shower her with compliments. It was why she was never disheartened by his lack of physical or vocal affection. 

She’d be lying if she claimed she didn’t get a little lonely sometimes, and she couldn’t say she didn’t sometimes wish he could call her beautiful without hesitation, but she didn’t let it get to her. She loved him, and she knew he  loved her, so she’d wait for however long it took for him to grow comfortable around her, even if that meant she had to reel back her own feelings for a while.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) was trying to coax sleep to take her when a sudden quiet murmur made her open them again. She waited, wondering if she had imagined the noise, when she suddenly heard it again. It was soft, and very quiet, but it was no doubt the voice of her lover, muttering something. She knew there was no way he was talking to her, he would’ve spoken louder than that if he was. 

The thought made her stifle a surprised giggle as she suddenly realized that Levi was talking in his sleep. She knew he’d be embarrassed if he found out she was listening, but she couldn’t help herself, her ears straining to try to catch some of the words. Silence settled over the room once more for a moment, nothing but the distant sound of the wind blowing outside filling the air, but soon enough, the murmurs started back up again, more recognizable words spilling from his lips the longer he talked to himself.

“No…, that’s not…mmm.”

“S-Stop that!”

“Mmph, no… I’m not...”

(Y/N) stifled another laugh as Levi started getting feisty in his sleep, turning to face her with a slight frown marring his features. His eyes were still firmly shut, confirming that he was indeed sleep talking, but the argument he was having with some unknown person in his head seemed to only be getting more intense.

“That’s not true!” Levi suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“What’s not true, Levi?” (Y/N) whispered, deciding to tease him a bit. She knew he would probably be annoyed later, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she wasn’t about to pass it up.

“That’s not true.” Levi said again, his voice lowering in volume but hardening in tone, “Of course I show affection!”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her mouth and bit her knuckle, trying to keep her giggles from waking him up, “Oh, really? When do you usually show affection?”

Levi’s frown deepened and his jaw tightened, “I show affection when I’m with (Y/N).”

(Y/N) blinked, not expecting her name to come up in this midnight conversation. Lowering her hand from her lips, (Y/N) sat up to rest on her elbows, her eyes sparkling as she looked down at her sleeping lover.

“How do you show (Y/N) affection?” she asked, curious to see what he would say.

Levi let out a quiet, defeated sigh, his frown disappearing into an expression that looked unexpectedly like guilt.

“Listen, Hanji, I…” Levi trailed off for a while, the air thick with (Y/N)’s curiosity. So, it was Hanji he was talking to in whatever dream he was having. The thought spiked her curiosity even further, making her heart pound in her chest. It wasn’t uncommon that Levi would be annoyed with Hanji, so the argument at the beginning of his dream made sense, but he almost never talked about his relationship with anyone but Erwin, not trusting the energetic scientist to keep from teasing him and spreading rumors about them. She knew they were together of course, that was impossible to hide from her, but he always denied her details whenever she asked.

“Shit… I… I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” Levi muttered, a slight scowl reappearing on his features.

“Do what?” (Y/N) whispered.

Levi took a deep breath, his fingers curling around the edge of the sheets to squeeze in his fist, as if he was being forced to do something unpleasant, “Hanji, I need your help.”

(Y/N) had to fight to hold back a genuinely shocked gasp. Even when he was just dreaming, she had never imagined in her entire life that she would hear that sentence come out of his mouth. She suddenly wondered if she was the one dreaming, and this was just some elaborate scene her brain had made up.

“Um, sure, Levi, what do you need help with?”

A deep breath rattled from the depths of his chest, “How do I... show (Y/N) proper affection?”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) asked breathlessly.

Levi grunted in his sleep, his knees rising beneath the sheets to curl against his stomach. “Do I really have to explain it, Hanji?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, you idiot,” Levi grumbled, “I just… I just don’t know how to show her how much she means to me. I’m so fucking lucky to have her. She’s been so patient, so amazing, never complaining about my inability to be romantic, but I’m tired of being unable to be there for her. I’m tired of looking around at the other couples around us and seeing how loving they are, only to know that I can’t do the same for her. I’ve had enough of treating her like a normal cadet on my squad. She deserves so much more than that, she is so much more than that. She shows me every single day that I am loved and cared for, and it makes me sick that I struggle to do the same.”

(Y/N) had her hand back over her mouth again, this time to stifle her sobs instead of her chuckles. Her eyes were lined with silver as she gazed down at the love of her life, her heart thundering pleasantly in her chest. While it was true that she had never had a problem with waiting for him to get more comfortable with her, she couldn’t deny the feelings of elation she was feeling with every word that poured from his mouth. It didn’t matter that he was asleep, it didn’t matter that he didn’t even know he was talking to her. All that mattered was that he was finally saying the things she had secretly burned to hear for months.

Levi sighed, “I just love her so damn much. She’s the woman of my dreams, and I don’t think I can go one more day without her knowing that…”

Swallowing the sob that threatened to crawl past her lips, (Y/N) brushed his raven bangs to the side and leaned down to give him a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Believe me, Levi. She knows.”

The small smile that appeared on his face made it impossible for (Y/N) to hold her tears back this time, the warm, salty liquid sliding down her cheeks to land with soft taps on her pillow. Despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, (Y/N) gave him a watery smile of her own and reached over to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling herself closer to his warm chest and curling into his body.

“I love you too, Levi,” she murmured before closing her eyes, the smile still on her face as she fell asleep easily for the first time in years.

____________________

Levi could feel himself slowly being dragged back into consciousness, but for the first time since he was a little boy, he didn’t want to wake up to the slightly more bearable hell of the day. Usually, what little sleep he got was riddled with nightmares, screams of his comrades as they either begged him to save them or blamed him for their early deaths. He was usually plagued with dark, bloody thoughts and visuals that made him wake in a cold sweat, his stomach swirling so violently he was occasionally reduced to emptying the remnants of his dinner in the middle of the night. He never enjoyed being tired or facing the titans day after day, but at least the real world kept him busy with training and paperwork, keeping his demons at bay.

But today felt different. He felt warm, comfortable, as if the sun’s rays were cuddling him in a warm nest. He felt content and unafraid of closing his eyes for the first time in years. A part of him was suspicious of the change, tempted to open his eyes and find out what was making him feel so comfortable, but the bigger part of him didn’t want to leave this unexpected bliss so soon, afraid that opening his eyes would chase away the feeling before he could truly relish in it.

He sighed through his nose, nuzzling his pillow in an attempt to coax his mind back into the warm embrace of sleep when a sudden movement against his bare chest made his eyes snap open, ready to rip someone to shreds. His stinging words immediately died on his tongue when his silver gaze snapped to the (h/c) haired lump nestled against his skin. Ah, that explained why he had slept so well, even with a migraine, which had thankfully disappeared overnight.

Levi couldn’t help the smile that curled at the edges of his lips, the look in his eyes softening as he watched his love sleep against him. An innocent, giddy sense of wonder filled him at the sight of her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never had a woman fall asleep against him before, many people finding him too cold and standoffish to find comfort in him. But here she was, the most gorgeous woman in the world, cuddled up against him as if he were a warm pillow, her hair splayed out over his chest like tangled silk.

She was so fucking beautiful. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The past few months had been the best he had ever had, his life now full of love and happiness and soft laughter. As he stared at her, his heart about to burst out of his chest, Levi couldn’t help but reach out to her, his fingers brushing her cheeks ever so softly, making his skin tingle with how soft she was.

His hand immediately drew back when she scrunched her nose cutely, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth opened in a wide yawn. A part of him felt sorry for waking her, but as she opened her glittering (e/c) eyes to look up at him, the other part of him felt more satisfied at seeing her cute expression.

“Good morning,” (Y/N) mumbled, her sleepy, raspy voice sending a jolt of something electric down his spine.

“Morning,” Levi said, unaware that his own deep, husky morning voice was making (Y/N)’s stomach flutter with early morning butterflies.

“Sleep well?” (Y/N) asked.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Levi said, moving his arms from around her body so he could stretch them above his head with a satisfying crack.

“It sure sounded like it.”

Her comment made him pause and glance at her, the mischievous look in her eye making a wave of nervousness course through him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” (Y/N) purred, causing his anxiety to spike, “I was just unaware that you talk in your sleep.”

Levi froze. He talked in his sleep!? He didn’t know he did that! He supposed it was normal for him to not remember the event, and he had never slept beside another person in his life, aside from his mother when he was a toddler, so it made sense that he had been unaware of this unexpected habit, but that didn’t erase the anxiety that swirled in his gut.

“O-Oh?” Levi asked softly, cursing his stutter.

“Mm hm,” (Y/N) said, her smile only widening as she watched his reaction, her eyes glittering playfully.

“Um, what did I say? It better not have been something stupid,” Levi muttered, trying to fight the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks. He almost didn’t want to know, but with the way she was smiling at him, it looked as if he had said some revealing things.

“Well, you were arguing with Hanji for most of it,” (Y/N) said, watching with a deviant smile as her boyfriend relaxed, an obvious expression of relief on his face.

“Tch, I do that when I’m awake, idiot.”

“You also said you were head over heels in love with Eren Jaeger.”

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh when Levi started choking on his own breath, his sharp inhale of shock getting caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” (Y/N) said with a cackle, smirking even more at the dirty glare he threw her as he coughed, “It was a joke, I promise!”

“Fucking hell, brat…” Levi muttered, covering his face with his arm.

“You did call me the woman of your dreams, though,” (Y/N) said quietly once her giggles had subsided, a light blush dusting her cheeks despite herself as she recalled the wonderful memory.

Levi didn’t choke this time, but his eyes did go wide, his lips parting in shock. He knew she was being serious. Immediately, Levi was filled with a confusing blend of joy and horror, happiness that he had finally gotten the chance to tell her his true feelings about her, even in sleep, and horror that she had found out in the way she did, while he was unconscious and having an argument with Four Eyes about god knows what. Levi couldn’t fight the blush that rose to his cheeks, his skin stained red as embarrassment washed over him.

He didn’t know what to say. He was floundering, trying to think of something, anything to either confirm his sentiment or try to divert the conversation, but nothing was coming to mind. His brain was blank, nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears overwhelming his senses. Suddenly, a soft hand grasped his wrist, gently tugging on his arm until he had removed it from covering the silver eyes she loved so much. Leaning over him, her eyes were glazed with unshed tears as she locked her gaze with his, showing him all of the emotions she couldn’t put into words before leaning down to kiss him.

He unintentionally let out a groan when her lips met his, his tongue immediately reaching out to dance with hers as they tasted each other, slow and sweet and loving. When they finally parted, both of them gasping for breath and smiling as if they had just found the way to world peace, Levi saw that a few tears had escaped to stain (Y/N)’s cheeks.

“I love you, Levi Ackerman. I love you for you and all of your little quirks, and I always will.”

Levi felt himself get choked up, but he swallowed past the lump in his throat, focused on making the goddess in his arms feel the same way she made him feel.

“I l-love you too, (Y/N), y-you really are the woman of my d-dreams.”

Levi hated that he stuttered, but he let out a sigh of relief as he finally managed to push the words past his lips. (Y/N) choked out a joyful sob as pride filled her chest like a roaring lion, making her skin glow as if she were something from a fairytale, taking Levi’s breath away. Sitting up, Levi met her half way for another soul-searing kiss, his heart calling out her name as he allowed himself to relax with the kiss, melting into her affection as if he were dipping into a warm sauna, his heart throbbing for the woman who was his entire world.

[thedefenderoftheearth]

slide

summary: Rose and TenToo start their journey together and it isn't always perfect but they're good together.

rating: T

word count: 2200

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30290310

On Day One, he knows the TARDIS is leaving before Rose does. She’s entirely captivated by this kiss, and he wants to be too (and is…mostly), but it’s his TARDIS, and his mind is big enough to think of both things at once–the love of his life re-entering it and the companion he’s not sure he can live without fading from it. He hates the thought but knows it’s true. He’s lived without Rose, knows he can do it…but he’s not sure if he can live without his ship. 

When Rose breaks the kiss with a gasp and bolts toward his disappearing girl, he’s certain that he can’t.  He takes the few strides to Rose, interlaces his fingers with hers because it’s the only thing he’s sure it’s okay to do. When they turn to look at each other, he wonders what he’ll be sure of tomorrow.

On Day Two, he wakes to a soft whirring sound--an electric toothbrush, he realizes. Rose is awake and coming out of the en suite. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he flings the covers aside and hops out of the bed to meet her. 

"Oh," she says, and she won't meet his eyes. "Um. Hi. You're awake."

"Yes," he confirms. "And you have a bit of toothpaste just...there." Without thinking and before she can stop him, he licks the pad of his thumb and swipes the corner of her mouth.

"Um. Thanks," she says, and she still won't look at him properly. "Um...I thought...I thought I'd pick up your suit from dry-cleaning. And then we could go shopping, get you some things. I won't be long." She hurries from the room with her head down, not even pausing to wait for an answer.

He's puzzled, but when he's certain she's gone, he sucks his thumb. He can't taste every component of the toothpaste, can't determine the exact structure of the methylcellulose like he used to. What he can taste is Rose, and that, he thinks, could merit a full day's worth of analysis.

It isn't until he goes into the bathroom to relieve himself that he realizes why Rose did her best not to see him.

He wonders if this is a problem human males have every morning.

If so, he wonders how he could possibly bear this every morning--this heat that's spreading across his face, down his neck, and to his shoulders that makes him feel like he could disintegrate on the spot and like he wouldn't mind if he did, because at least he wouldn't have to face Rose again.

On Day Three, she catches him in the kitchen with two fingers in a jar of raspberry jam. He freezes, smiles sheepishly, grows nervous when she doesn't say anything.

"You know," she finally says, taking the jar from him and replacing his fingers with her own, "this is an awful habit to get yourself into." Her tongue darts out to clean the messy glob on her fingers.

"Dreadful," he agrees, when he can finally speak. "Terribly rude." He takes the jar back to help himself to more jam.

They pass the jar between them a few times before she stops and places it on the counter.

Sticky fingers weave through his perfectly tousled hair as she pulls his mouth to her and he wants to whine about it, but his brain shorts out as she swipes her tongue along his bottom lip and oh--all right then.

On Day Nine, they're okay. They've fallen into a safe routine: she cooks breakfast and he cleans the dishes; they share the bathroom (and it's not long before they decide it isn't big enough for the two of them); they reach together for two Torchwood IDs hanging near the door; she drives and he changes the radio fifteen times before they arrive.

Neither of them takes any risks with the other, but it's good. They're good together.

On Day Twenty-Eight, he cooks breakfast and doesn't burn the toast. It earns him a proud hug from Rose. He thinks back to a day when a shop girl from the Powell Estate pronounces a word correctly and elicits the same response from him. He wonders what happened to that girl and marvels at the woman before him who has all of herself pressed up against all of him.

On Day Forty-One, he goes on his third date with Rose. He's not sure why she keeps referring to it that way but she does and has more than once--to her mum on the phone and even to Jake at Torchwood.

He doesn't understand why she emerges from the en suite in a dress he's never seen before and strappy heels that couldn't possibly be designed for comfort (and definitely not for running) or why she smells flowery and certainly good but not quite like herself.

When they return to the flat, he doesn't understand her frustrated sounds when he kisses her, when he tries to slow their snogging back down to just that, just like always, just like normal. She finally relents and succumbs to his pace. When they're both breathless, she snuggles close to him...until she can't anymore.

He's utterly baffled when he's suddenly asked to sleep on the couch, but for the first time since he came to live with Rose--the first time in his existence--he does.

On Day Fifty, he understands why they call it "getting lucky." His brain is shrouded in a blissful haze, yet singularly focused on one thing: he has just had sex with Rose Tyler. He's done the deed, gotten busy, mattress mamboed, knocked boots--he doesn't have boots; maybe he should get some--and he feels a little bit like whooping...but his bones are liquid and he's melting into the soft down of the bed. His hair is in a state of permanent shock, his eyelids droop half-mast, and his mouth is set in a goofy sort of half-grin that doesn't seem to want to fade, but he doesn't mind. He fights to keep his eyes open just to keep looking down at an equally happy Rose falling asleep with one arm across his chest, her hand above his single heart, and her legs tangled with his.

On Day Seventy-Seven, they spend the entire day in bed. He moans loudly.

She tells him through a stuffed-up nose to "shu' ub."

"'Shut up'? Really? These could be my last words, Rose Tyler. I'm going to die!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"It's just a cold."

"Is not. It's swine flu, bird flu, SARS--No." He gasps. "The Plague!"

"It's not the Plague. They didn't even have that here."He whines and moans and groans and "But Roooooose"s, and even though she's miserable herself, she brings him soup, blows on it when it's too hot, and patiently cleans him up when he sneezes in her face and half the bowl goes down his front.

On Day One-Hundred Twelve, they're not okay. Neither of them knows how they got to this point, but hurtful things are being flung carelessly to the air between them. Things like maybe if he came back, she'd leave with him--back to her own universe, back home. Things like maybe if the wanker did come back, he'd just steal his TARDIS, and he could be the one stuck on this stupid planet in this stupid world.

He pulls at the doorknob, tries to flee with some dignity, but the jamb sticks. He twists and pulls and jiggles the lock and finally it breaks free. Tears prickle in his eyes, and he wants to know why this stupid body has his tear ducts hardwired to his frustration. It's a dumb design; he doesn't feel like crying, he feels like running.

He winces when he hears the door slam behind him--he didn't really mean that--but it's done. He can't take it back. He runs.

On Day One-Hundred Fourteen, he runs home. She's ready for him when he walks in, and he isn't expecting that. He's expecting to at least be able to change out of the clothes he left in, the ones that are soaked through and clinging to his cold skin. Maybe even a shave and a steaming cup of tea. He doesn't get those things; they're going to have it out right now.

She unfurls herself from the blankets, rises from the couch with an un-drunk, already-cold mug of tea in her hand and strides toward him. They're toe-to-toe before he can find his voice.

"Still mad?"

She leans in close and he's nervous. "Yes," she says against his temple. "Definitely," against his jaw.

He shivers, swallows thickly, and thinks--knows--they should solve this with words, but when she pulls back to look at him like that, he thinks the words can wait.

They're both sorry, and that's enough for now.

They're a mess of tangled limbs and warm breath as they fall to the bed. His wet clothes are left on the carpet and oh, she's not going to like that later. He wonders how he has room for that thought when he's got a half-naked Rose Tyler in his arms, then he knows: he never wants to make her mad at him again.

Right now, he decides, he's going to make her very, very happy with him.

On Day One-Hundred Fifty, he thinks Rose might be pregnant. He wants to believe it's his superior Time Lord brain counting thirty days to the millisecond. He knows it's his human brain and his human something else.

He's not sure if she thinks that--that there might soon be three heartbeats between them again--but he thinks he's scared, delighted, anxious, proud, reckless, loving, loved, amazed.

He wonders if it's a human trick, to feel all these things at once and not explode into light. If so, it's better than any trick any Time Lord ever had.

On Day One-Hundred Fifty-Two, he finds out he's wrong when she throws a pillow at him and demands toffee and a backrub.

He's not sure why he isn't relieved, or of the reasons he should be.

On Day Two-Hundred Two, he drops a ring--the ring--down the garbage disposal and panics. He stares down the dark void of the drain in horror.

Neither of them are ready for the question to be asked, but that ring....It's The Ring, and he's not going to find a replacement. When his own hand fails him (as does chewing-gum-on-a-wire and the vacuum hose with a bit of nylon over the top) he admits defeat and calls a plumber.

When Rose asks what happened, he has to tell her he finally finished that sonic prototype, and it was rather less successful than one might have hoped--wellll, by that he means it was a complete failure.

She rolls her eyes and asks him what's for supper.

On Day Three-Hundred Ninety-Eight, he thinks they are ready, but she comes home with two zeppelin tickets.

"Fancy a trip?"

"Yes!" he exclaims too loudly. He's done so well so far. He's only had a few freak-outs--no, they weren't freak-outs. Slips, lapses, tiny episodes, he thinks. But oh, would he love to travel. He doesn't have the universe at his fingertips anymore, but this world is still different, still has a lot to offer. Maybe the Sphinx still has a nose because he wasn't there to meddle, and maybe the sand feels different under his feet there because the silicon dioxide content isn't the same in this universe. Maybe the Great Wall of China wasn't built, but there's one in Mexico, and maybe the view is still spectacular. Maybe the best chips on the planet aren't at their old haunt at the hole-in-the-wall on Baker and Twenty-Fourth. Maybe they're across the globe in Sydney, and maybe they can find them.

"Yes," he says quieter, and then, "Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And they go.

On Day Four-Hundred Twelve, they're running for their lives from a hunter-gatherer group in the Amazon that he's managed to insult.

They run, and the humidity gives them an endless supply of sweat. Huge droplets pool from every pore making their hair stick close to their scalps and their clothes stick to their skin as though they'd just emerged from a swimming hole fully-clothed and a muddy one at that, with the way the forest wants to cling to them and never let go.

He knows it's just something in the way this adrenal-cortical system works that makes him think that maybe they're really going to die this time, something about these rubbish--wonderful--human hormones, but he says the words anyway.

"Will you marry me?"

"What?" she says between tight gasps for air.

"Marry me.”

"Her answer doesn't come immediately. He doesn't know if she's thinking or trying to find the air for the words or both, but he's dying every second.

"Okay," she says, then looks over her shoulder to the group gaining on them. "Can it wait?"

"Yes!" he exclaims. He hollers an indecipherable word, grabs her hand, and they run faster.

[atiny-ahgase]

Sweet Dreams

Author’s Note: I started this with no direction but I somehow still really like it. IDK I think it’s kinda cute. I intended for it to be more like a drabble but I don’t really think that it is...oh well. Also, I tried my best to make the reader both gender-neutral as well as to remove any words that would cause you to assume the ethnicity and race of the reader. I’m still really new to writing so if I slipped up on any of these attempts please let me know. I’m trying my best.

Side Note: This will be my first work since my 2 week-long Writer’s Block. I honestly still have it but I also really wanna write something...It’s soo frustrating.- Gabby.

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed and stress from work threatens to rid you of your sanity your only source of calm in this otherwise hectic world, Mingi, is busy at work preparing for the Ateez comeback. You don’t want to burden him but what are you to do when the breath easier beside him?

Pairing: Mingi x Gender Neutral reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Contains Fluff, Angst, Idol x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, (Not really sure what else).

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

You lightly hissed as the warm water cascaded down your aching body, engulfing your muscles with liquid bliss. Work had been the most demanding this week than it had been in a while. The workload wasn’t that much but you were already understaffed as it was and your demanding boss wasn’t helping to soothe the stress and anxiety brewing within you with all the work that still needed to be done. You needed a break but with the deadline fast approaching, no way was that going to happen.

Softly sighing you turned off the steady stream of water before grabbing your towel; relishing in the feeling of the plush fabric embracing your body. You walked out of the restroom entering your bedroom before collapsing on to your bed; the plush mattress beginning to absorb the moisture from your shower. As you sink into your mattress your mind begins to wander to your only spark of light in an otherwise seemingly dismal world; formally known as Mingi. How was he doing? You hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a while and it honestly showed in your demeanour. You were always much calmer after speaking with him. Each laughed that slipped past his lips took with it all of your worries.

You had both met at a coffee shop not too far away from your office building. After ordering your drink you scrolled through your phone waiting for your order to be called. Not long after your order was called and you approached the register extending your hand to retrieve your coffee. Unbeknownst to you, the stranger beside you seemed to be doing the same thing. Both of you appeared to be unaware until you grasped his hand over the coffee cup.

“Sorry”, you shakily replied pulling your hand away from the beverage while looking up at the man standing beside you. The warmth from your hand seemed to spread to your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You felt like you were looking up at the sun. His existence alone seemed to brighten up the drab and dull decor of the local coffee shop threatening to blind you if you looked too long. How could one person be that bright? 

A cluster of gentle curls adorned his head landing lightly across his forehead. He wore round-rimmed glasses which just drew your attention straight to his warm brown eyes, they looked so welcoming. They reminded you of the homemade toffee you would make with your grandparents, soft, sweet and warm. A small chuckle escaped his mouth directing your focus to his lips which immediately curled up into a bright smile forcing his eyes to all but disappear. The sight alone causing you to smile in response.

It was strange, the smile felt so natural to you although you’ve rarely found a reason to smile lately. The weight of the world had reshaped your once bright smile into a frown that even your greatest efforts could not mend so you decided to give up. To stop wasting your time on the happiness that somehow always seemed to evade you.

But now you where you are in a crowded cafe, smiling like an idiot at a complete stranger who didn’t even say anything remotely funny. That’s it; your boss had literally driven you to madness. That was the only sensible explanation for your unwarranted happiness.

“You can have it; I’ll just wait for the other one,” he spoke, bringing you back to reality. “Oh no I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you responded arms raising in protest.

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I let a gorgeous person like yourself wait in line?” he defends while sliding the cup over to you. Failing to keep your heart in check you can already feel your ears heating up much hotter than any coffee you’d ever consumed. Cheezy pick-up lines like that had never made you react this way before so why now?

Maybe because it didn’t feel like a pickup line, it felt more like he was just talking to you, no strange ulterior motive he was authentically being nice. Yet another interaction that you were not used to. Deciding on taking him up on his kind offer you mumbled a small “Thank you” before taking a sip of the coffee, the liquid feeling cold in comparison to the warm feeling flooding your cheeks.

“You know waiting in line is a lot more fun when you have someone to talk to”, you smiled up at him, enjoying the warm feelings you got from his interactions. You wanted to hold on to the conversation just a little while longer. With so many conflicts currently going on at work, it felt nice to have even a semi-decent conversation with someone whether it was with a stranger or not.

Somewhere along the line, that chance meeting turned into planned meetings which turned into him showing up at your apartment unannounced with snacks and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve gotten so used to seeing him that these past few days have been absolute torture. He and the rest of Ateez were working on their comeback and you know that Mingi must be just as exhausted as you if not more exhausted and you don’t want to burden him with your problems. But you miss him so much. 

Everything in your apartment reminded you of him. From the collection of hoodies that you’ve “accumulated’ in your closet to the faint smell of lavender that seemed to have remained on the cushion, he would usually sit on. They all just served as constant reminders that he was not there. A loud sigh leaves your lips as you will yourself to get dressed not wanting to be consumed by your own thoughts.

-----

Your entire evening just consisted of you dragging yourself all over your apartment in a futile attempt to be productive when in reality all you wanted to do was curl up beside Mingi on your couch; head nuzzled into his neck, hands grasping his shirt which would always smell like fresh Lavender. He’d hold you tightly as if you were the most precious person in his life, one arm around your waist drawing gentle circles while the other gently stroked your hair.

You close your eyes remembering all of the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear and with every word you could feel the stress and anxiety leave your body and in its place would be that warm feeling that somehow always seemed to accompany you whenever Mingi was around.

His presence was like that of a storm; washing away the debris that seemed to settle on your heart, nourishing the withering roses of your soul, revitalizing the rivers that gave life to your otherwise dull eyes. His smile alone provided the single ray of light you needed to see your way through whatever you were facing, guiding you back to his warm embrace. And now that he wasn’t there you wondered how you ever walked on your own. Every step that you took felt ten times heavier because he wasn’t there beside you.

You sink further into the couch simultaneously diving deeper into your head when the blaring of your cell phone ringing forces you out of your thoughts. Not bothering to look at the caller ID you press the answer button just glad for a distraction to keep your mind occupied.

“Hello,” you answer in the best fake cheerful voice you can muster up. “Hey y/n”, you hear a sleepy Mingi grumble on the other line. His voice was a lot deeper when he was tired but even with that, you could still sense the hint of happiness that laced every word that escaped his lips. He truly was the personification of sunshine. “Sorry to be calling you this late I just really needed to hear your voice”, he continues. 

You feel a ping in your chest as you try your best to steady your breathing, his words always went straight to your heart. Mingi was always the honest type, he would never shy away from anything he had to say and even though you really loved and admired that about him; you couldn’t help but blush anytime he said things like that to you. “Will you tell me about your day?” he inquired before some faint shuffling was heard on the other end.

“I’d rather hear about yours,” you reply; not wanting to ruin his mood with your problems. “But if I do all the talking how will I get to hear your sweet voice?” he whines into the phone. You chuckle softly to yourself, imagining the way he would wave his arms in the air when he didn’t get what he wanted. You sighed before muttering a soft “You asked for it” before taking him through your entire day. You couldn’t help but give in to his every request, his childlike glee made you want to spoil him. He softly hummed listening to you recap the events of your day only speaking when he was sure that you were finished. Feeling a weight lift off your shoulders you laid on the couch, exhaustion quickly replacing the stress that once filled your body.

You always did feel the most at ease when Mingi was with you, and even though he wasn’t physically there didn’t stop your mind from melting into the calm sea that was his voice. Each word he spoke crashed on to the shores of your heart retreating only to remove the pain and frustration left there by others. The rhythm of his cascading waves sang a song straight to your soul; like a gentle lullaby, it cradled you until you were consumed with sleep. As you laid there falling deeper and deeper into a much-deserved slumber; you could faintly hear the slow and subtle breathing of the idol on the phone.

Sweet dreams Mingi.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive (intro)

A/N: Once upon a time, @malionnes​ asked me what I would write if I could write any story for one of my characters. And this AU is the result. Logan Delos is much more than the sum of his flaws, and he is determined to prove that. 

Warning: this series will deal with drug use, depression, addiction, violence and other such topics. 

Word Count: 3,113

“Will it help?” You shocked yourself by asking the question in an even tone despite the way your chest was clenching and your throat tightening. Watching him struggle to remove the plastic band from around his wrist - thin...he’s so thin now…- you felt your bottom lip tremble and you pressed them together to stop it. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his arm and he froze, looking up at you. Oh... His eyes, always so bright and full of life now looked lost, the light in them dull, barely a flicker, and the darkness hit you like a sucker punch to the heart. You sucked in an involuntary breath, but swallowed it down, slipping your fingers beneath the band he wore. Giving a quick yank, you easily snapped it, letting it fall to the floor. He muttered a thank you under his breath, pulling his wrist away slowly, encircling it with the fingers of his other hand. Yours dropped to your lap and the second that it did you felt a distance start to form; a slow but strong undercurrent pulling you away from him. He hadn’t answered you, so as one last attempt to throw out a life vest- for him or for me?- you asked again. “Logan? Is that…” Don’t ask if it’s what he wants. Ask the question that matters. “Will it help?” 

It was all you’d been trying to do since he’d been released from the hospital after his last trip to Westworld; help him find a way through it. You’d thought he was joking the night before he left for his trip, when he told you that he’d updated his park profile to make you his emergency contact. He’d said it through a smirk, lips crawling up your neck, tongue sweeping across your sweat slicked skin as his hands roamed your body and his hips rolled against yours. You’d smacked his arm playfully, drawing a chuckle from him that tickled behind your ear. “No you didn’t, Delos,” you challenged. There was no reason for him to list you as any kind of contact, emergency or otherwise. You and Logan had been enjoying several months of unlabeled fun, and you knew that he’d been seeing other people during that time. You had, too, though it had been a few weeks since you’d seen anyone but him. And he’s the only one I’m sleeping with. “Besides, I thought Juliet was your emergency contact.” You twisted beneath him, turning your head to look in his eyes, your fingers going up to brush a few strands of his long chocolate brown hair away from them. 

“She was,” he answered, tilting his head to lean into your palm. “But William needed to list someone and park rules state that two guests can’t have the same emergency contact.” He rolled his eyes and sat up, moving so that he was next to you. Reaching over, he pulled you by the hips into his lap, the feel of his skin on yours better than any high thread count cotton you’d ever experienced. 

You hummed as he returned his lips to your neck, his touch trailing down between your breasts and over your abdomen. Fuck that feels amazing. Letting your head fall back onto his shoulder, you reached one hand up behind him to tangle your fingers in his hair where it curled near the base of his skull. “You excited to get back to the desert, cowboy?” You’d heard about Logan’s escapades in the wild west, knew that he enjoyed blowing off steam by channeling his inner outlaw. It’s a nice visual, too. You scratched your nails down over his scalp, smiling as he let out a groan, just like you knew he would. 

“Fuck, that feels…” Amazing? Yeah, Logan, I know. He released a throaty breath as his fingers flexed against your body to press you closer, your spine flush to his chest. “I always have fun when I go,” he said in answer to your question. “Know how to make my own fun no matter who I’m stuck with.” He’d been expressing his distaste for William since the man had proposed to Juliet and Logan realized that he could be stuck with him for a lot longer than a week’s vacation to a prairie full of robots. “But I wish I was gonna be stuck with you instead.” You sucked in a breath as he took your earlobe between his teeth. 

Your heart had been racing since before the two of you had fallen onto the mattress, shedding clothing and claiming each new inch of skin with lips and hands as though it were the first and not the fiftieth time you’d done so. But the way he’d said that he’d rather be stuck with you, the way he was clutching you close, the way you could feel the rise of his breathing against the blade of your shoulder brought you to another level. Too much, it’s not… this isn’t… You took a steadying breath and leaned forward, separating yourself from him and turning to face him. “Oh, come on, Logan, you don’t want me around ruining your chances with…” you tapped your chin in mock thought. “What’s her name? The one you told me about at the Mariposa? Peach?” He cocked his head to the side and gave you an exasperated glare, his hands falling to the tops of your thighs. “No, wait, Clementine, that’s it,” you winked and his glare melted into a grin. “Knew it was a fruit.” You scrunched your nose and laughed as he surged forward and caught you in his arms again, lips covering yours as he tackled you back onto the bed, his heart racing just as hard as yours was as it knocked against your chest. You kissed him back, arms winding around his shoulders and one leg thrown around his waist. 

You’d kissed Logan countless times in the past few months, but this one had been different. You felt him slow it down, pressing his body down on top of yours with intention as one hand cupped the side of your face and the other threaded through your hair, loose and spread out over the well-worked sheets. His tongue entered your mouth, yours blindly following his lead as you breathed together, your thoughts completely unraveling. When he finally broke apart he pulled away just enough so that you could see his eyes, a bright gleam in their nearly onyx depths. He shook his head and spoke your name, his voice taking on a low gravelly tone that set your blood on fire. “You really think I’d rather have one’a those dolls when I can have you?” 

Your breathing was heavy and uneven from his kiss, small puffs of air leaving your lips to meet his. Have me? Does he… He doesn’t mean… You closed your eyes and willed your heart to stop hammering at your ribs. He just means like this, not...nothing more. Swallowing hard, you opened your eyes to see that he hadn’t taken his off of you, still looking at you with that disarming clarity. “You have me right now, Logan,” you barely got the words out, your voice dissolving as you spoke. You can always have me. 

His eyes narrowed as he took a breath through his nose, his chest pressed to yours as his lungs expanded. “Yeah, I do.” He nodded, leaning in until his lips found yours again, this time leaving a quick kiss before trailing up your jaw to your ear. “And I’m gonna want you as soon as I get back, too.” You felt his biceps tightening as his arms wound around you.  

That makes two of us. You let him crush your body beneath his own, your palms pressing into the warm skin of his back. “I’ll be right here,” you told him, lips close to his ear. 

And you were. 

The call woke you up at 2:28 am, jarring you from your dreams as you bolted upright and grabbed for your phone. What’s… oh… Your confusion turned to worry as you read the caller ID. The number was restricted, but the entry came up as Delos Destinations INC. Your hands shook as you fumbled to answer. The voice on the other end greeted you with your name in the form of a question. 

“Yes,” you spoke the word into your phone, a slow sensation of dread spreading through your veins. 

“We’re calling on behalf of Logan Delos.” You held your breath in the dark, head spinning. Why can’t he call on his own behalf? “There’s been an incident in the park and Mr. Delos required… medical extraction. He’s being closely monitored and I’m told his condition has been downgraded from critical to stable.” You gasped his name, a fear you’d never felt before filling your heart. “At this time ma’am we are only required to inform you of Mr. Delos’ status, you are not obligated to come out to the facility or-” 

“I’m coming.” You tore the blankets from your legs and stood, cutting off the too-calm employee on the phone. Your entire being was vibrating with nerves and you could feel your pulse behind your eyes. There’s no way I’m leaving him alone. He’d made you his contact because he trusted you. He’d asked you to stay with him that last night before his trip, asked you to stay with him, in his bed, in his place, because he wanted you. “I’m coming, I’ll be there.” You got dressed as you listened for flight information, hands still shaking uncontrollably as you ended the call and headed for the door.

They continued to shake as you drove to the airport, dizzy from the rapid, shallow breaths you’d been taking between sobs. You’d been given a little more information on Logan’s condition, and while again you were told that he was stable, you felt no better. You stared at your fingers, laced together in your lap. They didn’t stop shaking at any point during the flight. 

Your hands didn’t stop shaking until they clutched the railing at his bedside, knuckles white and threatening to poke through your skin from how tight your grip was. Oh my god. “Logan…” Tears ran silently down your cheeks as you lowered yourself into the chair that had been provided for you. Bandages covered various portions of his body, where the burn was most severe; his wrists and palms- according to the medical team, these areas were worsened by adding the chafing of thick, coarse rope- the tops of his shoulders, where the sun was the most unrelenting, even on his cheek, where you were told he’d been given a shallow slash wound. Any exposed skin on his arms, neck or face was a deep purplish red color, peeling in patches on his nose and lips, and even while he slept he looked like he was in agony. His legs and torso were covered by the thin sheet, but you could only imagine that it was more of the same. Jesus, Logan, how did this… you felt a hollow ache as he flinched and mumbled in his sleep. Without realizing that you’d moved, you looked down to see that you’d placed your hand on his chest, desperate to give him any amount of comfort that you could. “I’m here, Logan, it’s okay, it's…” 

His eyes flew open, and for a few seconds he didn’t seem to see or hear you, his chest heaving as he gulped at the air, and you didn’t have to guess to know where he’d been in his dreams. Three days, they’d told you. He’d been out there for three days, naked, alone, dehydrated and without food, hands bound and left for dead. Three days of cooking in the scorching sun, two nights of frigid, silver moonlight. Host Malfunction, they’d said, telling you that Logan had joined some war narrative near the edges of the park, and one of the blood thirsty robots had taken things off script. It matched the story that William had told when he alerted park officials that Logan had gone missing. He’d turned up looking fairly rough himself, you were told, slightly dehydrated and sunburned. Your eyes roved over Logan’s weakened frame as he blinked and finally registered your presence. But not like this. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Logan, it’s okay,” You kept your hand on his chest as you spoke softly to him, fighting to keep from sobbing at the hurt in his eyes. He looked down to where you were touching him, tears gathering in his own eyes as he brought one bandaged hand up to cover yours. 

“You’re here.” The tips of his fingers were free over the top of the gauze wrapped around his palms, and they found their way between yours. 

You nodded, leaning in to get closer to him without hurting him. “Of course I am, I…” I think I’m falling in love with you. “I care about you Logan…” 

He’d broken down into tears then, both of his hands holding yours in place above his terrified heart. 

The weeks and months that followed were dark ones, the torture that he’d endured replaying on a relentless loop in his mind day and night. He hadn’t wanted to talk much, and you didn’t press him on it, trying only to be there for him in whatever way he wanted or needed you to be. I’m gonna want you when I get back, he’d said, and it was true- he wanted you to distract him from his waking nightmares, wanted to bury himself in you so he could bury the memories. You have me, Logan, however you want me. 

But it wasn’t enough of a distraction, and he soon found a much stronger way to dull the pain, which is how you ended up where you were now, sitting across from him in his apartment after he’d been released from the emergency room, still too weak to even snap the plastic band around his wrist. It was the second time you’d found him passed out with a needle in his hand and a strangled moan rattling in his throat, and the third time that you feared that you might lose him. You ached for him in ways you never thought possible when you first met, in ways that wouldn’t have made sense for the carefree fling you’d started. But there was one thing that was certain, and that was that you loved Logan Delos. You were even fairly certain that he loved you, too. You just couldn’t have had worse timing in realizing that. 

After the second overdose he made the decision that he needed to check into a rehab program. Your heart flipped and your eyes welled with tears, ecstatic that he’d come to that conclusion on his own, that he valued his own life enough to try to save it. You told him that you’d be there for him however you could, no matter what he needed. He hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating, and knowing that he wanted to do something about it was enough to give you the hope that he could be happy again, whole again, even if it wasn’t with you. “I’ll be here for you, Logan, when you get back.”   

He looked down then and shook his head. “I can’t…can’t ask you to do that” He didn’t try to hide the pained wince that creased his forehead, or the way his voice had snapped, becoming brittle and dry. You felt the bottom drop out of your chest as he turned his face back towards yours, his cheeks gone hollow and his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Oh, Logan… He shook his head again, unruly strands of hair falling over his eyes. It was longer than it had ever been, his beard, too, looked scruffy and unkempt. He looks like he did after the desert. All that was missing was the burn. Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “What I’m doin’ isn’t… working. I can’t,” He tilted his head to the side, swallowing as a salty droplet fell from his eye. “Can’t do this to you again, and I…” He swore, the word wavering as it left his lips. Another few tears fell free as he blinked, his long lashes wet as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. The skin beneath them was sunken and dark, highlighting how pale he was, how fragile. That’s not you, Logan. “I won’t let you sit there, watching, waitin’ for me to…” His eyes opened again and they were as clear as they’d been in weeks, catching you off guard. “I don’t want you here just so I can lash out at you when things get hard and…” 

That’s when you’d asked him if it would help, taking time apart. His answer was a strained yes, and you could tell how badly he wanted it to be anything but yes. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you nodded. “Whatever you need…if it will help.” Even if that isn’t me. Though it hurt like a dagger to the heart to hear him tell you that he needed you to leave, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to help him heal, and seeing him like this was a pain that you both knew you couldn’t endure much more of. You wrapped your arms around him one last time, holding him close as he kissed you, slow and meaningful like the night before his trip, full of all the things neither of you had ever said. I love you, too. “Take care of yourself, Logan, you deserve to be happy.” You left him with those words, whispered against his cheek. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 

You deserve to be happy. 

That’s what you’d told him, and he was determined to prove you right. 

It’s like you’re programmed for fucking failure, Logan. 

How many times had he heard that from his father? Enough that I started to believe it. But of the two lines that stuck with him, yours was stronger. His father believed that everything in life could be broken down to codes and algorithms, simulations and predetermined pathways. I’m writing my own code, Dad, fuck yours. 

He read over the form one final time before clicking submit, the screen redirecting him to a new page thanking him for his application to Stanford School of Law. Like he’d tried to show William, there was a fundamental difference between the hyper realistic robots that populated the parks and a flesh and blood human. Choices, not codes, were what made a man, and Logan was making the choice to fight for himself.

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @thesumofmychoices​ @lexxierave​ @belladonnarey​ @ymariejp​ @obscurilicious​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @breanime​ @drinix​ @jigsawlover10​ @getlostinyourparadise​ @nananananananananananabatman​ @malionnes​

(i just used the same tag list from my other Logan series, so if you would like to be added or removed please let me know!)

[imaginedisish]

Take On Me (Otis Milburn x Reader) (Sex Education)

A/N: THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE OMG. OKAY UMMMM THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS. I KINDA CRIED BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL SO AMAZING. ANYWAY...here’s some smut :) hehehehe! This was SUPER requested. The title is based on the Aha song of the same name. My friends tell me I look like the girl who dances to this song in that vine...so if you ever wanna know what I look like, I kinda look like her??? ANYWAY... I hope you alllll enjoy :) Thank you for all the love and support <3 xxxxx (oh and Colin Ritman smut is up next LOL BYE)

Summary: You and Otis decide that it’s time to take things to the next step in your relationship....for the first time...SMUT!

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. language...fluff...yeppers. 

Word Count: 2,124

Also...I made a part two that I’ll link here!

You walk down the road, your hand in his, giggling, talking about anything and everything that comes to your mind. Your yellow sundress sways in the wind, a smile plastered across your face.

“I mean you’re lying if you say you wouldn’t kill to go back to 1979 and see Joy Division live!” Otis says, his ocean eyes glowing in the moonlight. You stare into them, drowning wave after wave. 

“Well sure, but what about Lou and Bowie?” You say back, arching a brow in Otis’s direction. He nods, agreeing. “You rather see Joy Division, don’t you?” You ask, laughing a bit. You knew when Otis was holding something back from you. You could see it in his eyes, or simply in the way he held himself. He gets fidgety and restless. 

“O-okay w-well m-maybe. Yes. I’d rather see Joy Division,” Otis says finally, an apologetic smile spreading across his face. 

He was too cute to even care that he disagreed with you. “Oh well,” You say, pausing, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I guess I just have better taste than you.” You giggle loudly. 

“Guess I’ll just have to accept that my girlfriend is far cooler than I ever will be,” Otis says back, throwing his hands up to meet yours, grabbing them softly. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and you hum with pleasure. It was little moments like these that made your heart sing, no matter how innocent or small. 

You two continuing walking, your hand still in his. Otis had been your boyfriend for about two months, but you and he had been friends for much longer. Everything seemed so perfect, except for one thing. 

Sex. 

It wasn’t necessarily taboo in your relationship, you and Otis had talked about it before, but, you were a virgin, and so was he. Obviously, there was no problem with that. But you had both gotten to the point where you genuinely wanted each other. Otis was over his intimacy issues, thanks to you, and you felt like you were ready to take your relationship to the next step. 

You see Otis’s house up a head, the massive, red, Queen Anne style home still vibrant in the dark of night. A few lights are still on inside the house, but it was likely that Otis’s mother had gone to bed. It was late. Stars hang carefully in the night sky, dancing over a round, full moon. The trees sway in the crisp summer wind. Otis stops for a second, taking both your hands in his. 

“Do you want to, m-maybe, c-come inside?” Otis asks nervously, biting his lip. You can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, yeah I’d like that,” You say, pulling him along the path as you walk forward. He stumbles a bit, tripping over his own feet as he catches up with you. Eventually you two approach the front door. 

Otis puts a finger to his lips, cautioning you to be quiet. You nod your head in response. Otis slowly opens the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. The door creeks loudly, and Otis’s turquoise eyes fling open widely, filling with anxiety. You let out a small giggle, covering your mouth immediately after, trying to suppress your laughter. Normally, sneaking around was “sexy”, but not with Otis. He was so adorable, so cute. 

“Now that’s not fair. My sneaking skills are quite good, ya know,” Otis whispers, a smirk plastered on his face. You smile, shaking your head in disbelief. Then, Otis grabs your hand, pulling you swiftly into the dimly light house. He shuts the door behind you, and guides you up the stairs and into his room. 

You somehow successfully reach Otis’s room without banging into anything, or worse, waking his mother up. He closes the door to his room, and slides the brass lock into place. 

Your eyes gloss over his room. His bed sat in the center of the attic like space, the walls covered in different band posters. You spot a giant Joy Division poster next to his bed, and a The Stranglers poster right next to that. 

On the other side of the room was a bookcase, holding Otis’s extensive collection of records and books. You walk over to the case, scanning to see which records he had. Not to your surprise, the boy had everything from Arcade Fire, to Arctic Monkeys, to the Beatles, to Nirvana.  

The room screamed Otis. It was a perfect personification of his personality, and you loved it. 

Otis smiles at you softly, grabbing your hand again, and walking you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of the twin mattress, and you sit down next to him. Otis looks deeply into your eyes, his aquamarine gaze filling your stomach with excitement. Your heart flutters in your chest. 

“I know that we’ve been talking a lot about…” Otis trails off. He swallows harshly, his Adam’s apple bopping in his throat. “W-well about sex. If you don’t feel comfortable with this I completely unders-,” 

You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “I want this, Otis. I really do.”

“A-are you sure?” He asks, arching a brow. 

“Yes, I’m positive.”

Without any hesitation, Otis’s hands come up to cup your cheeks, and he pulls you into a hungry kiss. His tongue brushes against your top lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips slightly, as his tongue dances across your teeth, intertwining with your tongue every now and then. You pull apart for a second, trying to catch your breath. 

Otis breathes deeply as his hand brushes against your inner thigh, his eyes refusing to leave yours. You melt under his touch. He slowly moves higher, searching your eyes for permission. You nod your head eagerly in response. 

His hand then makes its way closer to you core, and you whimper in anticipation. Otis slowly pushes your flowing yellow dress up. 

“I know I already asked but I just want to-,”

You cut him off again. “Otis, I want you.” He nods, pushing your dress up farther. His hand slides up your thigh again, reaching towards your heat. His thumb begins to brush against your clit over your panties, getting faster each second. 

A muffled moan escapes your lips. Otis smirks, and stops. You send a disapproving frown in his direction, but to your delight, Otis slowly begins to pull at the hem of your panties. He takes his time as he gets down on the floor, and slips them off your legs. 

You decide it’s time to turn the tables a bit. Your hand reaches across Otis’s thigh as he sits back up on the bed. You begin to palm him through his jeans. 

“F-fuck,” Otis groans loudly. You quickly put a single finger up to his lips, signaling for him to be quiet. His mother is most likely just down the hall, you think to yourself. 

Otis nods, and you continue to palm his shaft through his blue jeans, his erection growing. You slowly unzip his pants, undo his belt and pull down his jeans. You reach down to continue palming him, but he grabs your hand before you can do anything else.

“No. My turn to make you feel good,” Otis says, pushing you down on the bed. You’re shocked at Otis’s sudden confidence, but pleased nonetheless. He pulls your yellow sundress over your head, revealing your lacy bra underneath. 

“My god you're gorgeous.” Heat rises to your cheeks. 

Otis’s hand travels across your chest, down your stomach, finally resting on your heat. He begins to play with your clit again, circling the spot slowly with his thumb. 

“O-otis,” You call out, your eyes falling shut, a fire beginning to burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“Do you like that?” Otis asks, rubbing faster now. You open your eyes, nodding your head up and down eagerly. 

“Y-yes,” You mutter. You had touched yourself before, but this felt so much different. It felt amazing. Suddenly, you feel Otis’s finger slide over your wet opening. He looks to you for permission once again. “Y-yes please.” He does as you say, sliding a finger into your opening. 

“Tell me what feels good, and what doesn’t,” Otis says, his eyes wide with concern. 

“H-holy shit,” You cry out, pleasure washing over you. Otis shushes you politely, a smirk stretching across his face. “Th-this f-feels r-really g-good.”

The feeling of Otis’s finger filling you up, and his thumb toying with your clit begins to become overwhelming. You were seconds away from coming, and you knew it. 

“O-otis, I think I’m going t-to,” You stutter as Otis picks up his pace, inserting another finger, the sensation itself practically sending you over the edge. He thrusts become even faster. In, out, in out, in out.  

“Shuuuush, let go love,” Otis coos. Your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“F-fuck! Otis!” You shout, coming around his fingers. Otis lessens his pace, and pulls out of you. “M-my god that was a-amazing.” You laugh, pulling Otis closer to you. “I want you, Otis. I need you.” Otis’s jaw drops. He quickly reaches over to the nightstand next to him, grabbing a condom from the drawer. He unwraps the packaging, slowly slipping the condom over his hard cock.

You hurriedly pull off his shirt, kissing him passionately at any chance you get. You yank down Otis’s boxers, revealing his hard member. Otis takes his erected cock into his hand, looking to your eyes one more time for permission. You nod your head in response as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

Suddenly, Otis’s cock fills pushes through your folds and inside of you. 

“Oh sh-shit,” Otis mutters, burying his head in your neck, and then pushing himself up again. 

“H-holy f-fuck,” You cry out, tears rushing to your eyes. You knew it would feel different than fingering yourself, or how Otis had just fingered you, but this was different than what you expected. It hurt, but just for a second. After some time, the pain began to subside. Otis waits a minute, making sure you’ve adjusted to his size. 

“A-are you alright?” Otis asks, brushing your cheek with his hand. 

“Y-yes,” You mutter. 

“Are you sure. We can stop if you don’t want to go any further,” Otis says, his voice kind and reassuring. 

“No, I want this. I want you,” You say back to him, passion in your eyes. Otis nods, and begins to thrust in and out of you gently. The pain erases itself, and is replaced by total and utter pleasure. “F-fuck Otis.”

“(Y/N),” Otis hums as he quickens his pace. His cock was hard. It felt so good. “M-my g-god you’re so f-fucking wet,” Otis coos. His words alone could make you come. 

Otis’s hand reaches down to your clit, and he begins to toy with it again. You dig your fingernails into his back, practically ready to scream in pleasure as he draws circles at your heat. Otis begins to lose his rhythm, his thrusts becoming extremely sloppy.

“I’m, I’m g-going to c-come,” Otis cries out shakily as a fire pools in your lower abdomen. 

“M-me too,” You breath heavily. Your walls tighten around Otis’s pulsating cock. “Otis!” You cry out, coming around him. 

“Oh-oh fuck,” Otis moans, letting go, thrusting deeply into you one last time.

Otis pulls out of your opening, crashing down on the bed, next to you. You lay there for some time, not saying anything, just enjoying each other’s company.

“That was…” You trail off. “Absolutely perfect.” You turn on your side to face Otis. He’s beaming with joy. He reaches a hand to your face, pushing the hair out of your eyes. 

“Yeah, just like you,” He smirks, wrapping his arms around you and pulling the covers over you two. 

“I love you, Otis,” You whisper into his ear. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” Otis murmurs. Your eyes flutter closed, and open again, becoming heavy with sleep. You press your face into Otis’s chest, pressing kisses there. 

“You know you aren’t just some guy in the corner, right? You’re special. You’re so fucking special,” You say, looking up to him. His diamond eyes meet your gaze. 

“And you know you’re more important and more beautiful than every star in the galaxy, right?” You smile against his chest, pressing a kiss on his collarbone. 

You really did love that boy, far more than words could ever say.  

Far more than anything else. 

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 7.5 OR Chapter 8

➜ Words: 7.3k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

Marriage seems to be the ultimate goal for many. And she can’t blame those who want it. At least when she constantly faces the most beautiful side of love and matrimony, bouquets of red roses and yellow tulips, long trains of wedding dresses, the tulle of the veil, the glowing smile of both bride and groom radiating happiness.   Yes. Weddings were undoubtedly gorgeous.   “And here...a song dedicated to these love birds.” The band behind her is already beginning and all the guests clap. It’s a pretty easy gig when she can sprout all the cheesiest nonsense and bullshit she wants and they eat it from the palm of her hand. “May their love be everlasting as the stars.”   The woman with the sleek, long, black hair stands at the stage. She parts her lips and sings the first note, the melodic song filling the venue as the bride and groom begin their first dance. It’s another sickening love song of the most delusional lyrics, but she doesn’t care much. By the looks of people’s faces, they’re loving every second of it.   When the song ends and she belts the last note out, microphone pressed to her lips, the audience erupts into claps with melted expressions. “That was amazing. You have a really beautiful voice,” the best man says as he approaches and the band continues playing some background music, others joining the dance floor.   “Thanks.” She sets down the mic and climbs off the stage. “I’d like to say I try.”   He trails after her to the side. “And you’re friends with the bride…?”   “Oh no.” She uncaps a bottle of water and takes a sip, quenching her throat. “I’m just a hired wedding singer.”   “You’re a professional then?” He grins and it’s obvious he’s trying to flirt with her through praise. She’s flattered, but largely unaffected.   “One day, maybe I’ll be.” Her arm extends straight out and the best man shakes her hand with a firm grip. “My name is Jung Sowon.”   “Nice to meet you, Sowon. My name is Sejin.” He smiles and lets go, slipping his hands into his black, dress pants pockets. He kicks the grass once and glances up. “I don’t know if this is okay, but I was wondering if I could get your number. I’d love to hear your lovely voice again.”   “Well, I don’t know about my number, but I can give you a number.” She reaches inside her blazer pocket and pulls out a rectangular piece of white card stock and hands it to him.   Sejin takes the card and frowns, reading the top. “Jung and Park….?”   “That’s my brother’s law firm.” She beams brightly like a ball of sunshine. “He’s a divorce lawyer. Keep it. You might never know when it might come in handy.”   The man is mortified, jaw slack as the card is still held in his hands and he watches the woman saunter away. When the band is on break, she also hands out the business cards like they’re flyers. “Please check out this law firm. Jung Hoseok does matters of divorce. He’s a really good lawyer.”   She bows at the wedding guests and hand them the card as well. Their eyes are always wide, mouths dropping open. She even leaves them on people’s plates and on the tables like they’re wedding favours. “Hello, please take this. Jung Hoseok is a fantastic divorce lawyer.”   Hey...it’s free advertisement. Might as well.   As Sowon weaves between white round tables, a kid accidentally collides into her, face planting right into her legs. The little girl giggles and stares up, pretty hair decorated with a flower headband, pink dress wrinkled from running around — an angel on the outside and a parent’s nightmare on the inside. “Oops, sorry!”   The older woman squats down with a smile, meeting her eyes at the same level. “It’s okay. I actually have a present for you.”   She qurisk her head to the side, apples of her cheeks reddening from the cool breeze. “What is it?”   “This.” She hands her the rectangular card and the child’s brows knit together while her cute lips pout. “This is really important. Give it to your parents, okay? It might help them one day.”   “Okay!” She grins and goes running off.   The wedding singer eventually strolls over to the buffet line and grabs free plates of food without anyone really noticing. She sings a handful more songs afterwards, most being the same old cliché love songs. Things couldn’t get easier or better than this. And after the party’s over, she bids goodbye to the band and packs up her stuff.   At home, Sowon flops on the bed. Her body molds against the mattress, tired and aching bones she didn’t remember having ten years ago after running miles. She’s trying to muster energy to take a shower that’ll wash away the grime on her skin. But before she can launch herself on her feet again, her phone rings beside her head.   It rings and rings and her arm reaches over, grabbing the mobile device. She smiles while reading the caller ID and picks up without another second to spare. “Well, well, well, looks like my little brother finally decided to give his poor, older sister a call. How long has it been, brat?”   “Stop handing out my business card.”   “Oh.” Her tone raises up in pitch from excitement. “Did you get more clients already, Seok?”   “No!” Hoseok whines on the other line and she grins, practically able to hear his pout. “Angry calls are what I’m getting.”   “They’re angry now, but one day, they’ll call and ask for help. I guarantee it.”   “Stop.” He channels his firm voice despite knowing it’s futile. Much to Hoseok’s dismay, any time he’s shown his family his professional side, they cooed at him. Whenever he tried to command his sister, the next second he was being held in a choke hold, and threatening to sue did nothing but gain laughter from the maniac of a witch. Still, he likes to try. “I don’t like getting angry calls or voicemails or spam. Stop giving out my divorce business cards at weddings, you sick freak.”   “Can’t I just boast about you?” She rolls around in the covers of her bed. “I’m so proud of my hot shot baby brother who thinks he’s too good for everyone else.”   There’s a pause.   “I’m begging you.”   “We’ll see.”   //   At the rate he’s going, Hoseok wouldn’t be surprised if his head of hair will all turn gray by age thirty six. Maybe he’ll even start balding. It’s easy to misunderstand that he’s feeling this stressed since he’s constantly drowning in work. But that’s isn’t the case at all. Rather, Hoseok jumps into the ocean of work with open arms. He loves what he does and he thrives in the workplace. In his free time, he works and at work, he works twice as hard. He just loves the feeling of accomplishing his professional goals, of keeping busy, of being able to sleep at night knowing he didn't waste his time and that he did something useful for his future.   Rather, Hoseok’s losing all his hair because of the women in his life.   It would be nicer if they were romantical problems — if he had issues with his love life, significant others, potential lovers or partners. In that way, people would understand him and he’d be able to consult someone with more ease. But the women of his life include: his mother, his sister, the receptionists, Seulgi who’s a paralegal, Sunyi and Naul who are lawyers of his firm, and you.   And each and every one of these people are handfuls.   “In light of some recent issues in the office, I think it would be important to discuss sexual harassment in the workplace.”   You’re standing up stiffly in front of the conference room, conducting your first ever seminar. A slideshow runs behind you, remote in your right hand and thick binder held in your left arm. If it weren’t for the way Inyoung is smiling at you, appreciating your efforts to protect the people in the firm and going this far to address the issues, you would be slick with sweat right now.   Everyone is staring at you, their gazes pinpointed on your face. More importantly, Hoseok’s seat is the farthest, but his stare is the most intense. He looks at you as if you murdered his entire family and he’s seething and ready to enact revenge at your weakest moments. You know that it’s just his concentrated face, but it’s still intimidating and scary. But you never let him nor any of the uncertain thoughts in your head hinder your plans.   You clear your throat, deciding to start right away. For now, it seems like everyone’s relatively engaged. You don’t want to drone on and on and make them bored.   “What is sexual harassment?” You click the remote and the slideshow begins, going to the next slide where there’s some flashing text that draws people’s attention. “It’s any unwanted sexual advances or obscene remarks, including any comments or inappropriate touching, in the workplace.”   The slide changes. For the most part it seems pretty straightforward, but you’re perfectly aware that the boundaries can become murky and it can become hard to tell what is or isn’t sexual harassment. “Let’s go over some examples…”   “Derogatory language would be seen as sexual harassment. Even something as suggestive notes or emails. Invading personal space, any unnecessary physical contacts, demanding hugs are also all examples. Another—” A hand shoots up in the cluster of employees and your mouth shuts. “Alright, we have questions already. Yes?”   Namjoon lowers his hand. “What if it’s consensual?” It’s a genuine inquiry. He’s not trying to give you a hard time. The paralegal’s face remains impassive and his head slightly tilts in curiosity.   “It’s still inappropriate for the workplace. We wouldn’t condone it. Everyone should remain professional in this environment.” You nod and he does too, satisfied with your answer. “Speaking of which, inappropriate staring is also considered—….yes, Taehyung?”   The caramel-haired lawyer smiles and explains, “Sometimes my mind goes on a trip and it looks like I’m staring when I’m not.”   “Uh...well, as long as you don’t have the intention, it should be fine. But try your best to not let that happen, okay?” You continue after the man flashes a thumbs up, “No one should be sharing inappropriate pictures either. Please don’t share nudes in the office.”   Seulgi looks over at Seokjin with a raised eyebrow and you don’t even want to know at this point. You click the remote, changing the slide again.“Sexual jokes are also looked down upon—”   Yoongi raises his hand this time and then he crosses his arms. “Does that include ‘that’s what she said?”   Sunyi rolls her eyes to the back of her skull and you can practically hear the storm of complaints she’ll make to you and the documents you’ll have to fill out. “....yes. Moving on, bragging about sexual endeavours is also improper behaviour. Everyone is here to work, not talk about their personal lives or what they did on the weekend.”   Suddenly, Lisa coughs loudly like she’s choking a chicken bone. The noisy interruption gathers the attention of the room and she eyes Taehyung in particular who remains oblivious, perhaps on purpose.   You continue quickly without prying or publicly humiliating anyone, “Basically if you’re wondering if an action is sexual harassment or not, just ask yourself ‘would I do this in front of my grandma?”   It’s easy enough to understand and you even gain a few amused smiles around the room. “It’s a good rule of thumb for a lot of things. Would you talk badly about someone in front of your grandma? Would you talk about your sex life in front of your grandma? Would you send nudes in front of your grandma? Would you make sexual remarks in front of your grandma? The answer is no, right?”   Your confidence boosts at the bubble of laughter that echoes throughout the group. “Our firm has a strict policy on sexual harassment. We take it very seriously in order to protect everyone and create a safe environment. If you ever feel unsafe, threatened, or uncomfortable, come talk to me, Jimin or Hoseok at any time. There will be absolutely no tolerance for this sort of thing.”   The slide changes again. “And just putting it out there, if there are any office romances, then you need to file with HR. All you need to do is fill out a form and sign. It’s just for the firm to be aware. We are legally obligated to protect every employee here from sexual harassment and hostile work environments.”   After a few more minutes of going over more details and getting the group to watch an old video you found on the internet that explains and reenacts different scenarios, you flicker the conference room lights back on and stand in front, preparing to close the seminar up. “Does anyone have any questions?”   “How about after work?” Jungkook’s voice is soft and shy, and you’re happy that he’s actively participating. “Do these rules apply?”   “....No,” you answer after thinking carefully. Jimin seems to have no problem with your answer, but you can’t exactly tell with Hoseok when he’s still half-staring, half-glaring at you. “You’re free to do whatever you want after work, but please be five hundred meters away from this firm. Don’t do anything on company property.”   Seokjin raises his hand and speaks without being called upon, “So we can’t get it on in this office?”   There’s a few disgusted looks that pass around, mostly from Dahyun and Inyoung who look like they’ve bitten into a sour lemon. On the other hand, Seulgi and Namjoon don’t look too unfazed with his particular inquiry. You can only sigh. “Under no circumstance should you ever engage in any sexual acts inside this office.”   Taehyung’s palm lifts, surprisingly timid. “What happens if you’ve already broken that rule?”   “Ew, gross!” Seulgi’s expression blanches and even Yoongi’s brow lifts, skeptical expression marring his blankness. Jimin scoffs with a laugh and Hoseok groans, rubbing his temples.   “You’re all a bunch of wild animals,” Naul waves him off and looks away.   “Look it wasn’t my fault!” Taehyung tries to defend, feeling like he was somehow put on trial and is at the stand in front of his accusatory colleagues. “I met her at a bar and we got wasted and I was being responsible by not driving! And the office was only a block away, so I decided why not!”   “Oh my god!” Sunyi is screeching and cups her hands over her ears like she can block out the monstrosities she’s hearing. “Oh my god, oh my god.”   “Why are you treating me all like this!” He laughs in disbelief. “I cleaned up the desk after and I personally bought that carpet cleaning solution and I scrubbed the carpets for like an hour—”   “Too much information, dude!” Namjoon interrupts with a loud voice. “We don’t want to know!”   “Oh my god!” Yoongi suddenly bolts up from his seat and turns to the fellow lawyer. His arm extends and his hand quivers as he points to Taehyung’s face, features marred with complete horror. “Is that why my office smelled like that for an entire week?!”   Sunyi bursts out in hysterical laughter. She has to physically grab her stomach as she leans over with giggles streaming infectiously out of her throat. The lawyer is no longer disturbed listening to Taehyung’s sexual endeavors in the office, instead savouring the look on Min Yoongi’s face. “Serves you right! Get a taste of that, Min.”   Suddenly, Taehyung turns to her.   He becomes serious, all traces of humour and mischief escaping from him. Then, her smile falls, and she slowly shakes her head. “No…” The disbelief quickly becomes fear. “No...no, you...didn’t….you...wouldn’t…”   “That stain on your couch—” His timbre is low and vibrates. “—it wasn’t ketchup.”   “Gross! Gross! I can’t believe you would do that in my office! That’s where I work and eat and—! Oh my god, I sleep on that couch sometimes, Taehyung! What’s wrong with you, freak?!”   “Serves you right,” Yoongi mocks her back in a whisper.   Taehyung leans back in his seat and scans the room with his sharp eyes. “You’re making such a big deal out of this like you haven’t done it yourselves when I know for a fact that you have!”   Dahyun looks away. Seulgi shifts uncomfortably. You don’t miss the way Sunyi glances at Yoongi for the shortest of seconds, the both of them gone quiet. But you get distracted when Lisa shouts, “We haven’t!”   “Liar.” He turns to the oldest lawyer on the team, the middle aged woman who is sipping on her beverage and watching the gong show go down. “Come on, Naul. I know you’ve brought your husband here more than twice.”   “I have a bedroom, thank you very much.”   “Jin?”   The man in question dodges. “My secrets will stay as secrets.”   “Okay, fine.” Taehyung holds his hands up like he’s defeated. “Deny all you want, but I bet the only people who haven’t actually done anything in this office is Y/N and like…”   Simultaneously, everyone turns around to the back of the room, looking at Hoseok.   The lawyer is unimpressed, one leg thrown over the other. He looks like a strict judge at a singing competition, hair swept over his brow in a comma motion and in a fitted suit like he’s ready to be broadcasted on national television, but also giving no fucks with what’s being presented before him. “This meeting is over. I hope you all paid attention and learned something, because I’m going to test you all on it.”   Jimin laughs when everyone becomes petrified and he steps in before mass hysteria can spread like wildfire. “He’s joking. There’s no test. But Hoseok’s right. This seminar has gotten a little off topic. It’s time to get back to work, but please take the topic of discussion seriously.”   He continues, doing a beautiful job of wrapping things up, “Any inappropriate behaviour in this firm will not be tolerated by Hoseok nor I. If you have any further questions or concerns, please come talk to Y/N, Hoseok, or me. It’s best to clarify any confusion, so that everyone is on the same page. With that being said, can we give a round of applause to Y/N for doing so well?”   People clap for you, the thundering applauses reverberating and you become sheepish under the attention. “It’s nothing, really. But thank you for listening to what I have to say.”   One by one, employees trickle out of the room. They’re chatting with each other, returning back to your desks and catching up on some work. On his way out, Taehyung grins at you. “That was fun, Y/N.”   You hold your sigh. “Well, I’m glad.”   “Thank you,” Inyoung murmurs as she walks past, modest smile still placed on her lips.   “No problem.”   Jungkook smiles and the rest of them also put in their few compliments and words of appreciation. Jimin is one of the last people and he actually stops. “Good job.”   “I was nervous,” you admit, remote off the laptop still in your sweaty hands.   “Couldn’t tell.” He grins, eyes crinkled into half moons. “It was your first time conducting a meeting, so don’t beat yourself over it. You’ll get better and better as time goes by. Plus, if it weren’t for you, I would have to conduct this seminar myself, so I’m once again thankful for your existence, Y/N.”   “It’s nothing.” Your eyes fall to your feet. “It’s my job.”   “And you’re good at it.”   But for some reason, you seek someone’s praise in particular. You’re thankful for everyone’s positive feedback and their encouraging remarks, but it never feels like quite enough. It’s like you thirst and ache to hear it from someone who is much tougher in nature, who is naturally a critic. Only when you hear from him will you truly be satisfied and you know you’re not being spoon-fed by stretched truths.   So, like the pathetic loser that you are, you hang around. You walk slowly to your laptop, closing the presentation, disconnecting the remote. And when you steal a peek at the corner of the room, Hoseok’s still seated, sending off a text message. It’s excruciating how desperate you are and the way you linger.   Jung Hoseok is the last to leave and when he notices you’re still here, his brow lifts, as if asking if you have something to say. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing that pops into your head and spills off your tongue without much warrant. “It got out of control towards the end there.”   “No, it happens. You don’t need to apologize.”   The both of you walk together, exiting and going down the hall. “You...got your car fixed?”   “I did,” the lawyer muses and glances at his watch like he’s late to something. “The battery got drained like I thought it did.”   “That’s good. It would suck if there was something wrong with the engine or the tires. Maintenance on cars can be really bothersome and expensive.”   Lame. It’s so lame how you’re ranting about car maintenance.   But you can’t help the disappointment that leaks into your voice and spills all over your face. You really liked having a friend to go home with. It made time go by faster. And you just hope that he can’t read the look on your face right now. You’re sure you’re not doing a very good job with hiding your emotions.   “Hey, Y/N.”   He looks away from his phone, from his watch, from the end of the hallway to your profile.   “Hmm?”   His voice is soft and gentle, a small smile that expands over his face. “You did well.”   One word from him is all it takes.   Like the idiot that you are, an even bigger smile overwhelms you. “Thanks.”   //   With the seminar complete and the staff handbook well on its way, you decide to take a longer lunch break, hanging out in the lobby of the building and chatting with the security guard. While you’re still working with developing friendships in the office, you’ve become good friends with the older guard. He reminds you of your late grandpa or when you were in elementary school and no one really wanted to hang out with you, so you became close to the class pet goldfish.   You’re standing near the front entrance, sipping on coffee as the guard drinks the cup you bought for him and he tells you about his weekend. He chats about how his son came over for barbecue and his wife made this pineapple pasta dish that was very delicious. And you’re about to respond when you hear a muffled—   “Y/N?”   There’s a woman on the other side of the glass windows, having stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk. She knocks once on the window to get your attention. Her hair is long and sleek, a midnight shade that matches the colour of her irises. Her eyes are wide like a deer in headlights, lashes standing straight up to the sky, sharp jaw dropped.   She stares at you. You stare at her.   And the girl bolts in her high heels towards the doors.   “Do you know her?” The guard asks just to be sure, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.   “Y-yeah….I do…” Your eyes are on the woman’s and you watch as she scrambles inside, taking wide strides towards you. You don’t even bid goodbye to the guard, taking steps to meet the female in the lobby. “Sowon?”   Without letting a squeak slip or another word spoken, her arms open all at once and she embraces your frame, squeezing you tight like a teddy bear. “Oh my god! I missed you so much. Huhuhghgh.” She makes weird sounds as she restrains you with her arms like she’s trying to pick you up, lug you around, giving you a good spin, but she’s not strong enough to.   You can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “I missed you too.”   The older girl parts away and scans you up and down several times. “How are you? You look great!”   “Thank you.” You’re a bit breathless, finding her presence and everything that’s happened in the span of two minutes overwhelming. “I’m good.”   “What…” She shakes her head like she can’t believe you’re actually here in front of her. “What are you doing here?”   “I work here now.”   “No. Really?”   “Really.”   //   The cafe is quaint in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. The sunlight washes through the glass into the room, painting the surroundings in warm hues. There’s not too many people around, few conversations from customers here and there, but the murmur of sounds are relaxing to your ears.   After already having two coffees for the day, you decide on a blueberry pastry and Sowon gets some kind of latte drink. She sits across from you, still looking at you in awe while you remain a bit uncomfortable under her constant gawking. “I never thought I would see you again.”   “That’s what I thought too.”   “I’m just surprised.” She gives you a soft smile. “And I’m glad that you’re here.”   There’s a slight pause and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. “I heard Hoseok got into an accident.”   “Did he tell you about it?”   “Yeah.” You hesitate, aware that she’s watching you carefully and with mustered courage, you take a deep breath and sit straighter, looking her dead in the eyes. “I really, really like my job. I’m working as an HR manager in the firm. It’s really fun to help out and tend to all the issues inside the office. I’m enjoying it a lot…”   “And Hoseok’s okay with that?” She holds the cup in her hand, sipping while her eyes are still above the rim, eyeing you carefully.   “He’s the one who hired me,” you tell her. “We’re professional.”   Sowon hums with another smile and puts down her cup on the table. “Understood,” she sing-songs. “I’m just glad you’re doing well.”   “Thank you.” It’s a soft murmur, but with that out of the way, you adjust the attention onto the woman. “How are things going for you?”   “Pretty fantastic actually.”   “Are you still at that magazine writing job?”   “Oh, god no.” She takes a sigh of relief and you’re happy that she’s moved on since she dreaded the job back then. “I’m a wedding singer now.”   You’re pleasantly surprised. “Really?”   “Really. I love it.” There’s a bright grin that spreads into her cheeks, uncanny to her younger brother when he’s in a good mood. “I haven’t been better. Free and happy. And before you ask—” She leans over to whisper while the long strands of her hair cascade down and frame her face. “I dumped Yugyeom. Well, more like he dumped me because he was sleeping with my best friend and preferred her over me because I’m too...boring…” She shrugs. “But I was going to drop that hot potato anyway.”   “I….see...” Any sympathy isn’t necessary since Sowon seems nothing but sincerely happy about it, so you can only bob your head to show you’re listening.   “It’s so nice to see you again,” she muses and means it genuinely. “We should go out for dinner to catch up more. Better yet, you should come home. My parents miss you more than I do—”   “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You look away unintentionally, nervousness grabbing hold to dictate all your actions. “I mean, isn’t visiting my boss’ parents during my free time a little weird?”   Sowon scoffs, leaning back and crossing her arms. “No. You’re practically my sister, aren’t you? That trumps whatever Hoseok is to you.” You laugh and she eases, glancing at the labels of her paper cup. “But if you have free time...if you feel comfortable...you should visit them. They’re getting old.”   “I’ll try.” You steal a glimpse at the screen of your phone, having felt it vibrate in your pocket.   “I’m keeping you from something, aren’t I?’   “No, not really.” It’s not like you have much to do today. If anything, you were ahead of your own set schedule, but… “I’ve just been gone from the office for a while.”   “If my brother is ever imposing on you or using his title of ‘boss’—” her fingers make air quotations. “—to bother you in any way, then just tell me and I’ll beat some sense into him.”   “Okay.” Your cheeks ache from smiling so widely.   “The kid thinks he’s such a hot shot now that he goes around bullying others without realizing.” A hopeless sigh spills from her lips. “Well, don’t let me hold you up. We should both get going.”   “Oh, aren’t you coming with me?”   “Nah. I was coming over to bother Hoseok, but I found something even better.” She smiles, indicating you. “So, I’m satisfied. I’ll probably head home.”   “Are you sure?”   “Yeha. He wouldn’t want to see me anyways. I know that kid.” She gets up and you both take your belongings, slowly leaving the warm cafe to the colder streets. “Don’t bother telling him I swung by either. Save him that stress.”   “Okay.” Outside of the door, you hug her one last time and she holds onto you, patting your back in steady beats with the palm of her hand.   “Promise me you’ll be okay,” she murmurs gently and you smile against her shoulder   “I’ll be fine.”   “Then don’t be a stranger.” She parts and gazes at you. “Keep in contact with me, alright, brat?”   “Yes.” You giggle, bidding her a final goodbye. Her backside eventually fades off down the street and you’re sorely reminded of her brother whom she resembles so strongly that it shakes you inside.   //   Lost friends. Lost memories. It’s been so long that things begin to resurface despite years of pushing them away. You didn’t realize you missed her so much until you saw her and you begin to ponder about your other friends, the people that you used to be so close to until the life that you were so fond of was ripped away from your grasps. But you’re too afraid to reach out again.   It’s dangerous to play the game of what if. What if things had been different back then. You wonder how much your life could’ve changed. Maybe you would have someone to go home to, maybe you wouldn’t have been so lonely, maybe you would be happier, maybe not.   You really shouldn’t dwell on things that aren’t part of reality. But the encounter with Hoseok’s older sister leaves you reeling and you don’t even realize where you are.   “Y/N?”   “Yes?” Your daydream is broken and you force yourself to focus on the receptionist sitting across the desk from you. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else, but go ahead.”   Dahyun glances behind her to the closed door and then clears her throat. “Does Hoseok hate me?”   Your eyebrow lifts. “Why would you say that?”   “He keeps glaring at me.” She points to both her eyes with her index and middle finger, whispering like he’s a monster who can hear behind solid walls. “Whenever I walk past or he walks past or I knock on his office, he has this glare.”   “No, that’s not it,” you try to explain with a laugh. “That’s what he looks like when he’s concentrated or being serious. Trust me, he doesn’t hate you. Hoseok doesn’t hate anybody. It would take a lot to make him actually mad.”   “Oh, okay.” Dahyun takes a sigh of relief. “I was worried he was upset with me.”   Not long, you get another guest inside your office.   “So last week, there was a file I was working on.” Sunyi is ranting again. For once, it’s not about Yoongi’s loud chewing or how she swears she can hear him trimming his toenails in his office and it’s absolutely disgusting. “And I asked Hoseok if a draft was necessary for the case. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s the basic gist. Anyways, he told me ‘no’, and then today he asks me why the draft wasn't done and that we need it! How ridiculous is that?!”   “Maybe he’s just busy,” you attempt to appease her and expand her empathy. “Things can get pretty hectic. He probably just forgot and got confused.”   “But he always blames others instead of himself. It’s so frustrating!”   “Well, being the boss is tough. There’s a lot for him to juggle. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding.”   “It’s not. He just never admits when he’s wrong.”   “Did he apologize to you?”   There’s a moment of silence. “Well, yeah, after I explained what happened.”   You smile at the lawyer. “He’s a partner of this firm along with Jimin. The both of them have a lot riding on their shoulders and they have to uphold the name of this place. They’re the leaders of this firm. It’s probably difficult to admit their mistakes as the bosses since it would damage their own pride and shake the foundation of this place.”   Sunyi shrugs, mumbling a mere ‘I guess’. But you know she’s thinking about what you’ve said.   There seems plenty of concerns and worries today since you get yet another person sitting in your office, across from your desk. Kim Seokjin is undeniably handsome no matter what he does, though right now you can agree he’s seen better days.   “He keeps micromanaging me! Every time I’m doing something, I feel him hovering over my shoulder and watching the screen of my computer like he’s trying to catch me do something wrong.” He groans, ranting and nagging, shaking his head and pounding his first on your desk, startling you to death. “Do you know how uncomfortable I feel on a daily basis?!”   “He’s probably just doing his rounds. It’s part of the job as boss….”   Your voice goes quiet at the way he looks at you. Seokjin’s arm falls to his side and his frown deepens. He leans over closer until half his body is pressed on the surface of your smooth desk. He looks at you like you’ve gone crazy. “Why are you defending him?”   “What?” You blink. “I’m not.”   “You are.” He tilts his head. “We usually always talk shit on Hoseok. Every. Day.”   You’re beginning to sweat. “Well, it’s not good to talk badly about our bosses.”   “Did he find out?” Jin’s eyes become wide.   “No, no!” You quickly reassure the legal assistant. “What we talk in here is confidential.”   “Then did you get in trouble?”   “No, nothing like that. I’m just….trying to approach it from a different angle….less talking trash...you know?”   “It’s strange,” he says, pouting slightly at how you don’t want to talk smack about Hoseok anymore. “No offence.”   You hum before pulling out your emergency drawer. “Would you like a cookie?”   Kim Seokjin grins, attention like a fish’s and successfully diverted. “Yes, please.”   //   Sometimes it feels more like you’re the complaint department or a counselor than an HR manager. You don’t mind since mediating and conflict resolution has always been your strongest skill set. But it’s difficult when you’re dealing with other people’s problems and no one helps you with yours. You even forget about your own issues. And yet, despite it going against your own mottos and what you were taught, it feels better to just bury those problems and forget them.   There’s nothing like having a problem and pretending it’s not there right in your face.   Ignoring is also part of your skill set.   The knocks on your door break you out of your trance and you lift your head, finding an older woman standing at your doorway. “Do you have a moment, Y/N?” She smiles and you stand.   “Of course! Please take a seat.”   Kye Naul is one of the lawyers of the firm and you’ve haven’t been able to get many interactions with her when the others occupy your time a lot more. You know a few things about her, like how she’s one of the oldest people in the office, probably ten to twenty years older than you, and her sons have grown up and moved out of the house. She’s also the person who’s practiced law for the longest in the firm and both Jimin and Hoseok respect her greatly.   She takes a seat across from the desk and you feel calm, reminded of your own mother’s presence. “I’m sorry. You were about to leave, weren’t you? It’s pretty close to five o’clock right now. I would've stopped by earlier, but I just finished billing five minutes ago.”   “Oh no, it’s completely fine.” You smile. “Trust me, I don’t have anything to do after this, so feel free. I’ll just be at home watching television anyways. What’s the matter?”   It isn’t a lie. Today is your off-day with your part-time job of taxi driving.   “This might be inappropriate and unprofessional,” she prefaces. “It has nothing to do with the firm or the office. It’s about my marriage.”   “It’s okay. Trust me, I’ve heard enough about people’s antics around here and what their odd hobbies are to be surprised or for it to be inappropriate.”   She nods and inhales deeply. “My husband is having a midlife crisis.”   “To put it shortly, we’re going through a rough patch because of it.” There’s a long pause. “He wants to buy a boat, move houses, hell, buy a house boat. He wanted to adopt a kid, a cat, a dog. He even tried convincing me to volunteer in a different continent for six months building mud houses for the elderly.”   She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Have you ever had someone drive you absolutely insane?”   “Yes.” You hold back a laugh, amused at hearing about her husband’s crisis. “I think everyone has at some point.”   “How did you end up tolerating them?”   “I don’t know,” you muse and a slight shrug follows. Someone specific comes to mind as you keep talking. “I guess I just cared so much that it didn’t matter to me if they were insane or completely crazy. I guess that makes me crazy too.”   She exhales another breath and nods. “Love makes people do stupid things.”   “Well…” You’re not sure where it comes from, but it stumbles from your tongue the moment you hear the four-letter word ‘love’. Immediately, you shake your head. “I’m not sure I would call it love.”   “Oh?” Naul’s brow lifts in curiosity. “Then what is it?”   “I don’t know. Definitely not love though.” You nod, so sure of yourself. This certain someone that you have in mind — you don’t love him. “It’s...a blindness.”   “A disease?” The lawyer clarifies, eyes narrowing even more as she carefully watches you.   “Sort of.” You can’t see it any other way. To be completely crazy for someone where you overlook flaws and have to sacrifice yourself. It’s blinding. It’s horrible. It’s painful. “I don’t think love should make you do stupid things. I don’t think that’s love.”   Yet, the older woman only appears more and more amused. “Why do you say that?”   “I can’t see how it’s love if you keep crawling back to someone and they keep hurting you over and over again. It’s just...a bad addiction at that point.” Your original stance in remaining unbiased is hurled out the window as you spill your truest beliefs out loud. The beliefs that formed over many long years from being jagged by someone you held...   “It’s stupid to keep running back to them.” You repeat it in your head several times.   “You’re right,” Naul says simply. “It isn’t love. Or at least, it isn’t just love.”   Her wise eyes are glimmery like they know too much. The lawyer leans closer to you like she’s about to tell a secret. “It’s a selfless love. It’s an unconditional love. That’s why we tolerate them and keep coming back, even when they make us angry to the point we want to throw a lamp across the room. That’s why we don’t kick them out of the house at night and make them sleep on the couch instead. It’s unconditional love.”   The lawyer continues, “Doing crazy things, things you thought you’d never do for anyone, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and accepting them back after getting hurt, that’s okay. It’s powerful to be that selfless. It’s still love, Y/N. It’s okay to feel this way. There’s no need to blame yourself and think it’s a bad addiction. God knows in a relationship patience, tolerance, compromise is required.”   She smiles and when she speaks, it’s less for herself and more for you. “Now, if only unconditional love went both ways, then love wouldn’t have to turn toxic, now, would it? If selfless love was always reciprocated, no one would ever have to hurt.”   “It’s harmful when it doesn’t go both ways and that’s when it needs to be stopped. If it does go both ways and you know that person would tolerate us too and wouldn’t mind being hurt….” She sighs softly. “Well, we just have to ask ourselves if the other person has unconditional love for us as well. Only then will we know that doing all these crazy things is worth it.”   You’re speechless, not sure how to respond. Naul simply gets up from her chair, much calmer than she was when she first walked into the room. She must’ve decided that this was enough to help her, but before she can leave the room or bid a goodnight, you stop her.   “Stay with him,” you say quickly while standing on your feet.   The door is already parted and she turns to look at you. It’s as if your memories are flashing before your eyes and you are actually trying to talk to your past self. It’s as if you are attempting to alter history that cannot be changed. It isn’t Naul who stands in front of you anymore, but someone much different. “Or at least don’t decide anything on your own. Talk to him properly.”   And the lawyer scoffs with a grin. “Of course I’m staying with him. He’s one of those people in my life that I’ll never be able to let go.”   That same evening, Naul comes home to an apartment where her two brain-celled husband is flipping through grocery flyers on the kitchen floor. When he looks up at her, he smiles and tells her that they both ought to take up fishing since it’s apparently beneficial to their health and a very relaxing hobby. For now, he’s given up the idea of building mud houses near the jungle. But he also tells her that he’s already pre-purchased two very expensive fishing rods and by the way he slightly cringes, she knows he’s afraid she’ll become upset.   But the woman simply sighs and leans down, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him silly. When he smiles against her lips, she parts and nods, finding fishing a great idea.   In the meanwhile, you’re still left dwelling on the conversation.   As you return to your empty home with nothing to do, you wonder how stupid you really are, how you keep crawling back, how you keep running for him, hanging onto every single of his words, how you can keep following him like some kind of loyal dog, even after being abandoned and kicked helplessly. More importantly, you wonder how you can never let go.   It isn’t love. Selfless love. Unconditional love. Any of that. You refuse to believe such a thing. You refuse to believe you harbor such feelings.   But — “You did well.” — one word from him is all it takes for everything you’ve known to crumble.

[catbrainswriting]

[mikomisa] cut your losses

ship/fandom: suoh mikoto/yata misaki (k project)

chapter: 1/?

word count: 1.7k

summary:  mikoto suoh has a lot of enemies. usually, after they try to face him, they run home with their tail between their legs - but every so often, some will come crawling back with the urge for revenge. and what better target than the one the king holds dearest? (or, alternatively, misaki is kidnapped by a rival gang formerly defeated by mikoto, and the king is given an ultimatum.)

notes: not beta read so sorry for any stupid mistakes.  i started this aaaages ago and never got around to finishing it until @shy-canadian-snowflake popped up and magically motivated me like an angel - so a huge big thank you to them!! this is also the first post on this shiny new writing blog, and there’s no initiation quite like one of my oldest rare-pairs.  enjoy!! (and pls let me know if you did so i’ll know to continue!)

Mikoto is wandering alone down one of the less crowded streets of Shizume, heading back towards HOMRA with several new packets of cigarettes held in a bag in his right hand, when his phone vibrating in his back pocket interrupts his lazy train of thought.  

It is mid-January, early evening, and the snow on the streets has yet to melt so the slicing cold air hangs with it.  Mikoto had left the bar early on a mission to track down a smaller gang stirring up trouble on the other side of the city, but his body temperature (heightened considerably by his aura) continues to attempt to oppose the winter.  Cringing as the hand that had previously been seeking refuge in his jacket pocket is exposed to the air, he draws his phone clumsily from his jeans. The blue light of the phone screen is harsh in the dusk and it takes several long moments for his eyes to adjust so he can check the caller ID.  Izumo.  Mikoto stares at the screen for a moment, before its incessant vibrating reminds him that Kusanagi is actually waiting for him to answer.

He swipes to answer the call and holds the phone to his ear, trying not to think about the fact that the last time Izumo called him, Totsuka was dead.

“Hey, Mikoto?”

Kusanagi’s voice over the phone is as even as ever, casual lilt carrying the words in a way that in any other situation would be relaxing.  But Mikoto has known the man for years, since they were teenagers, and they've been through too much together for him to not immediately notice an underlying sense of anxiety.  His mind, as ever, goes to the worst scenario first.

“What is it?”

Kusanagi barks out a laugh after hearing his tone, but it sounds inappropriate and somewhat forced.  “No one’s dying, I promise.”

Mikoto quirks an eyebrow.  The joke is in poor taste, though he doubts the man intended it as such.  “Then why’d you call?”

“I was gonna ask if you knew where Yata was.”

“Yata?”

“He hasn’t come in today.  I wouldn’t be worried - well, I’m not, really - but he’s not answering his phone.  Kamamoto offered to check his apartment, but I figured I should call you first.  Make sure I’m not interrupting some steamy date.”

Mikoto considers informing Kusanagi that the closest he and Yata have gotten to a date has been a make-out session in HOMRA’s rec room while some action movie played in the background (that’s basically a cinema date, right?), but he bites his tongue.

“I haven’t heard from him.”

That statement brings Izumo’s laughter to a nervous standstill.  There is a long beat of silence.

“Since when?”

“Last night at the bar.  I last saw him the same time you did, unless you’ve talked to him since.”

Mikoto hears a slight ruffle, and assumes that Izumo is shaking his head.  “No...no.  He said goodnight and then he left on his own.  It was late.”

Mikoto’s slow pace down the street draws to a stop.

“What are you implying?”

Izumo pauses, the only sound through the phone his deep breathing.

“I can’t stop thinking about Totsuka.”

Mikoto feels something like anger rising in his throat, but he knows it’s closer to anxiety.  “What are you implying?”

Izumo sighs deeply.  “I’m not--I’m not saying anything.  But, fuck, Yata’s just a kid.  And, yeah, he can look after himself and I get that but I can’t help worrying.  I feel like, with Totsuka, I didn’t worry enough.  And look where that got us.”

Mikoto lets the silence hang, watches his breath dance in the cold January air like the smoke of a cigarette.  He finds himself craving one suddenly, but he doesn’t have a free hand to draw his open pack out of his jacket pocket.

“I’ll go check his apartment.”

His tone makes it sound like an offer, like something he’s willing to do to calm Izumo’s nerves, but they both know that there is now the beginning of panic coursing through Mikoto’s own veins.  Misaki has always had such an effect on him, and more often than not he finds himself cursing the teenager’s innate ability to cause him such grief.

Izumo makes a noise of affirmation, another rustle to indicate a nod.  “Call me as soon as you find him,” he says, with an air of confidence that disappears like smoke in the wind the moment he continues, “And call me if you don’t.”

Mikoto hangs up the phone and breathes deeply, deciding after a moment’s hesitation that Yata is more important than his body’s craving for nicotine.  He sets off again at a significantly brisker pace, turning off a few streets away from the bar and heading instead to Yata’s apartment, tucked far into the worse side of the city.  He hasn't been there many times, since Yata basically lives at the bar, but he’s also aware that Yata’s financial situation is a bit of a sore spot.  God knows how many part-time jobs the kid’s working to try and keep up with the rent, for no real reason other than a desperation to provide for himself, rather than rely on other people.  Yata had been taught the rather harsh (and false) lesson in his life that relying on others always got you hurt, and Mikoto is always trying to encourage him to loosen his grip on that belief, but his efforts are largely in vain.  Yata’s mistrust of people on any level deeper than the surface was ingrained in him, through pain and loss and regret, and no amount of encouraging was going to get him to let go of it.  Especially not with the still-raw grief of Totsuka’s death in his heart.

It seems to get colder the further away from the shopping district Mikoto gets, as the buildings thin out and the streets grow broader - intended for vehicles, rather than slow-paced shoppers - but with a sense of purpose burning in his mind, he doesn't notice it as much as he had before Izumo’s call.  He walks through alleyways and under footbridges, keeps his distance from the guys lingering under them with their hands shoved deep in their pockets, no doubt gripping switchblades.  He doesn't have the time to get into a fight, especially not one that he can't end with an effortless wave of his aura.  He can feel it itching under his skin, burning in a way that it hasn't since the evening of December 7th, and he knows it well enough now to know that it means ‘danger’.  Anxiously, he chalks it up to his surroundings, to the guys holding nail-embedded baseball bats eyeing him from the alcoves of shuttered store fronts, but deep down he knows better.  His aura is unsettled with the need to protect, to shield...and the knowledge that it is helpless.  Something is happening.  Someone is going to be hurt.  And, as he pauses at the bottom of the metal stairs leading to Yata’s second-storey apartment, he can only selfishly hope that it is anyone else.

He begins to scale the stairs slowly, steadily, but his anxiety gets the better of him and soon he is taking them three at a time, leaping over the bannister as it angles around to save him a few precious seconds, and then he is stood at Misaki’s front door and time seems to freeze around him, like he's been plunged sixty feet into freezing water.  The lock is broken, and there is a dull trail of blood dragging from underneath it.

No.

No.

No. No. No.

Mikoto is bursting through the door in a moment, but there is nothing he can do.  He is hours too late already.  

Misaki’s apartment is only one room - two if you count the semi-divided kitchenette, three if you count the bathroom - and it is in chaos.  Shelves formerly housing photo frames and books and DVDs are overturned, the small old-fashioned television smashed from some apparent impact with wires dangling it precariously from its previous perch atop a chest of drawers.  The drawers are all opened, too, sorted through and their contents dumped on the ground, but Mikoto doesn't notice any of it, not really.  Because the old mattress on the floor, including its single unwashed white sheet, is covered in blood, and there is a message spray-painted in purple on the wall above it.

“CUT YOUR LOSSES, KING”

What the fuck? Mikoto is lost too suddenly to immediately feel the rage that he knows is coming, and instead stares dazedly into the ransacked apartment.  Is this revenge? Revenge.  For something that he has done.  Misaki is paying the price for something that Mikoto has done.  The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach, but before he can do anything he notices the note on the table.  It looks so out-of-place amidst the chaos that Mikoto is shocked he didn't notice it before, but he approaches the table cautiously nonetheless.  He snatches up the paper and begins to read.

“Red King.  Or, rather, Suoh Mikoto.  Did you really think you would get away with fucking with us?

You tore us down.  Thought you’d defeated us once and for all.  Taught us a lesson good and proper, yeah?

We don't play no fucking games like that.  

We remember.  Bide our time.  Act with more strategy that you HOMRA fuckers do.  

Bet you feel pretty fucking stupid right now.  Don't worry; the grief’ll kick in soon.

And then you can really feel like shit.

But that's not really what we’re after.  We’re after suffering in the broader sense.  More shame-filled.  More regret.

We did consider that little princess of yours, but even we have standards.  Besides, the other type of love is always more fun.

Depending on how long it takes your stupid ass to realise what's happened, your boy here probably won't be dead.  Maybe. Depends how loud the fucker is.

All we’re asking, Mr. Suoh, is for you to cut your losses.

Let us win and we’ll spare the rest of your boys.  And the girl.

But if you come chasing after us, you’ll find pretty boy here with his throat slit and a hundred men off to do the same to the rest.

Now, I want you to think long and hard.

What are you willing to lose?”

[londonlanded]

Week 30

Alright, playing catch-up, but it's been madness over here!

Monday through Wednesday, well, I've pretty much forgotten since I neglected to record my life and therefore lost those days to the abyss of my mind. Couldn't have been too exciting, right?

Thursday is when it gets exciting, since I finally got to have a real, full-on Four Seasons experience. As you all know, my hospitality knowledge extends only as long as these last few months. I have no schooling in the matter, no real travelling hotel knowledge since most of my time is spent hopping between hostels, trying to find out where I could pay the least amount of money for the most relative amount of peace and safety combined with the lowest number of drunk people. I've slept on floors, couches, in cars and on beaches (usually on purpose, though my friend's four door Kia wasn't ideal). Now, I work for a company that prides itself on making sure you sleep almost better abroad than you do at home, which is a tall order considering the confounds that usually tag along in your suitcase, like jetlag, stress, homesickness and all of our other human thieves of sleep. FS seems to do so well at making this happen that they've got a woman dedicated here in the UK to selling mattresses, pillows, duvets and bedding to anyone who feels like they want to take their hotel home.

But beyond the night's sleep that's reputed to be one of the best part of a Four Seasons stay, I've been working behind the scenes to make the other pieces of the puzzle fall into place, so seamlessly that I've realized most of our guests don't have the slightest clue how much goes into remembering something as simple as how they take their coffee. I thought I understood service, but this Four Seasons thing is a whole new ballgame. I was about to see what I was, in a very small part, responsible for helping make possible.

Let me explain the whys though, before we get into the whats. As part of your congratulatory package for passing your probation, you get permission to spend one night at the hotel as both a thank you and a way of the hotel testing out whether or not its functioning the way it should be. It's a way for the hotel to test its standards in a low-risk environment, since they're not about to give a member of the public free reign of their property for the sake of giving objective feedback. As part of your passing-probation overnight stay prize, you get to stay on property with a guest, you have to have one meal from room service, and one meal down in the hotel's restaurant. The only payment? I had to fill out a total of two surveys about how your experience was, how the departments did, if anything went wrong and if anything went right. That's it.

My friend Geffen showed up around the corner from the hotel, and she and I walked through the main doors of the place, and were welcomed to Four Seasons by a few of my slightly confused but ultimately professional colleagues/friends, who figured out I was doing my complimentary stay within a couple of seconds of realizing I wasn't in my uniform and I was entering through the front. I had warned Gef that people were going to pretend they didn't know me (aka greeting me with welcome to Four Seasons and later, when the hotel manager asked if we had been seen by the reception team), as part of the exercise everyone has to play their part. We approached the reception desk, the hotel manager looked at me with the same momentary confusion as the bellmen, and then asked the question I mentioned. Eliza couldn't keep her front up in its entirety, as she showed me the registration card for my room she said something along the lines of "well, I don't really think I need your ID but now's probably when I'd take it." I had been told what room I was getting earlier in the day, but of course hadn't seen it, so the concept of room 912 wasn't made real to me until my friend Alicia walked us to our room, and gave us a showaround.

Turns out this was the first of many above-and-beyond moments I'd have in my short stint as a Four Seasons guest. Alicia was oblivious to this fact, but the second Geffen and I walked into our room, it hit us both that'd we'd be getting to stay. For Alicia, it was just business as usual showing us around, but the two of us were absolutely losing our minds. Here's the thing - we would have been happy with any room, they're all beautiful and are all held to the same stunning standard. What we walked into was not just any room, it was room 912. What's so special about that is the fact that we were on the highest floor of the building, with a view of Hyde Park to greet us. This "be our guest experience" that I was doing for/thanks to HR is supposed to land you in the most basic type of room, small, low floor, double bed. Beautiful, but basic. What had happened that day to change that for us is still unclear to me, but I know that Alicia and my friend Tracy had something to do with it. I was so stunned at what we'd been given that I asked Alicia about it, and she said simply, "well, we upgraded you twice," with a smile on her facr that said she was rather proud of the change she'd instigated. She left to go back to the front desk, and the second that door closed, Geffen and I burst out laughing for lack of knowing what else to do with ourselves.

We explored the room and settled down, I think it was the biggest hotel room I've ever stayed in (with one exception but I feel like once in a lifetime Italian family trips can't count), and for central London, I'm not sure they've got much by way of space to give. The closet was so big, Geffen could comfortably sit in it. 

There were USB charging ports in the walls, power sockets with built-in current converters, and the nicest shower I had ever seen. So nice, that I think I took 3 showers in the 14 hours I was on property?

We decompressed before heading downstairs to dinner, where my friend Chiara sat us at her favourite table, and recommended about half the menu to us. The waiter was a new face, but was well-versed in how to handle colleagues coming in for complimentary visits. Geffen and I wound up taking basically every recommendation we were given, and the staff that served us that evening, Chiara included, were more than happy to provide them. It was one of the most amazing meals I've ever had in London, and I'm not saying that because it's part of a company I work for. In fact, it's the only time I will ever get to dine in Amaranto since there's a rule in place for all Four Seasons employees that we can't go to any restaurant on property within 30 miles of where we work. So, that means I can go eat in Hampshire, but London's two bars and three restaurants are off limits otherwise.

Honestly though, if anyone who reads this is looking for a mind-blowing meal, head to Amaranto. It's Italian but it's not shy when it comes to seafood (my favourite thing on the planet), and thanks to my friends generosity in suggestion, we wound up getting some real mileage out of our meal. To start, burrata, roasted pecans, watercress. Chestnut mousse on seared scallops. Goat cheese, beets, walnuts and pear arranged in a crown.

Mains, seafood sampler consisting of a piece of bass, salmon, and tuna, a scallop, an entire mangosteen (baby lobster?), shrimp and roasted vegetables. Geffen's lobster linguine was apparently pretty spectacular, too.

Dessert, creativity came out on the part of our pastry chefs, Geffen's tiramisu involved a toffee disc placed atop whipped cream, covering coffee flavoured cookies, we shared something called the 6 Deadly Sins, which was one of those chocolate balls that the waiter pours molten chocolate over and melts the top to discover what's inside, alongside chocolate another four ways. Raspberry, coconut, and apple & cucumber gelato (weird but honestly my favourite) to finish it off. 

We rolled up to our room after saying goodnight to the friends that had helped us out, and I took shower #2 because I swear that things is like an ocean being poured over your head and its magical.

Ready for something funny? The worst part of my stay was that I didn't sleep a wink! The bed was too soft, the pillow too plush. Of course, this is something that can be noted in guest preferences, but I sure as hell wasn't about to bother my friends for a firmer bed. In hindsight, I mostly just find it amusing that the one thing FS does best, just wasn't my cup of tea! I was half awake when my 6AM alarm went off to prompt me to go up one floor to the hotel's gym, and I can't say I minded starting my day to a workout looking over London, the London Eye clearly lit up in the dark pre-dawn.

I got back to the room just as Geffen was coming around, had my 3rd shower of my stay, and we sorted ourselves out to order the next mandatory part of my visit - room service. Within a few seconds of hearing my voice, Vinod on the other end of the line figured out that the Ms. Papsin he was speaking to was really just plain old PBX me. Before I knew it, four items had been added to our order that he suggested we "should really really have," and the whole 100% free thing made it sort of hard to argue with. I hung up with a laugh, and quickly popped up to the tenth floor with Geffen to show her our view from the spa. In the grand scheme of things, it's not really that mindblowing, but considering we're in the heart of london where being able to see anything at all above ground level is remarkable, having a 10-story look at the world isn't half bad. 

We made it back down in time for Bala, our room service attendant, to roll our stunning breakfast into the room. Can't say I've had many Fridays start as well as this one did with our Room Service team's kind help. Geffen and I headed downstairs to go our separate ways to work (my commute lasted a whole 12 seconds mind you), but not before she raided the entirety of the room for every product we stock! Considering I have pretty easy access to it, I was mostly just glad it wasn't going in the bin and instead into my friend's bathroom. On top of that, Vinod had made us order a basket of extra pastries with our breakfast for the sole purpose of Geffen stealing them for a free meal later that day. I scored big, but dare I say she might have scored a bit bigger? Anyway, the rest of my day had a lot to live up to, I can't remember having experienced that much joy before 9AM in a long while.

I showed up to work to the mockery of my colleagues who had seen my dinner bill from that evening (they knew how it went though - once the staff catch on that it's free, they do enjoy joining in, especially when a good 3/4 of them are good friends of yours), I quickly evaded their pesky company to head downstairs to spend the morning with some of the members of the Sales team in the hopes that I'd learn some of the basics before starting my job as a sales coordinator in a few weeks. I felt a bit swamped, both by things I didn't know and by the things I thought I did, but I hope that once I start, everything will become a touch more clear. I'm sure it will, these things don't daunt me on that front at least. The end of the day meant a quick stop at the gym before returning to my own, firm, and welcoming bed. Even though my showerhead hardly works, I was happy at the very least that I'd be able to sleep once I laid down my head.

At the end of the day, I was still the same Emily who didn't need luxury so much as I need a safe place to rest my head. Still, I think I took away far more from my experience than most do, simply on account of my naivety. I honestly never understood how the things we do as individuals at the hotel become the cohesive, perfect, five-star whole that they are. I understand standards, they make sense to me, they are the thing upon which the framework of perfection is laid. I see that we aim for perfection in everything we do, I just had no idea how that might make me feel once I bore witness to seeing our work on display. Sebastian, my manager, caught me on my way down to sales, and while I didn't have a ton of time to tell him the extend of my experience, I managed to get out the simple phrase, "I get it, I get why we do the things we do."

And I do - I see the pieces at play. I see how they fall together, how every single person plays a role in making for something as simple as a safe place to land, a (usually) decent nights sleep, how the fact that we've thought of every possible human need might go unnoticed, simply because our needs were never felt. It's not that the hotel is always there when you need something, it's that it has made it so that you never feel as though you are in a position where you lack that very thing. I walked around the room and thought, "there's literally nothing I want right now," I couldn't think of a thing I could ask for. And I knew I could ask for anything.

I'm missing my own point here. I think what I'm trying to get at is simply this - I get why we do the things we do, because I see what goes into making sure that every want and need is met before it is wanted or needed. To be so far from home, and yet simultaneously so far from needing the comforts that are usually associated with it, that is what it means to stay at a Four Seasons. I didn't really understand that until I did so myself, and quite honestly, it made going back to work easier, not harder than I thought it would be. After all, I now see why we do things this way, and once something makes sense to me, I am all of a sudden unable to see how it ever didn't.

Saturday was another trip to the borough market, this time in the company of Viola from Florence, and Coline my regular French companion. Another story was shared with me, adding to the tapestry that's being woven by these characters, more complex and intricately threaded every day. Viola never did any post-secondary education, she's worked her way up from a 1-star hotel to one of the most renowned hotels in the world (ours, duh. Not kidding though, it's got quite a reputation our little building). She recently got offered a promotion on property, but turned it down in favour of returning to her home city to run something along the lines of revenue management. All this without a degree, all this without pausing to think she may not be adequate without one. She ploughs through life with a fervour and humour I hope to emulate, with a candour and wit I could never keep up with. I'm serious, these people are magic.

Sunday, said goodnight to the day with this lovely sight, reminding me once again how spectacular it is to just, well, be alive sometimes. The colours of the day bleeding away, there’s something simply and beautiful about having enjoyed another one. Even out front of Hammersmith station, bustling, loud, packed and constantly drowning in the din of a dozen sirens, there are moments to pause and think, yeah, I’m glad the sun reaches me here. 

Spent the evening preparing for my last week in my Park Lane uniform, which is honestly something I never thought I'd say only seven months after first putting it on. 

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