#if this gets enough attention I will make another part

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Hogwarts Students

Pairing(s): hogwarts student!ateez x hogwarts student!reader

Word Count: 9.8k

A/N: Oh my gosh, thank you all so much for helping me reach 2.3k followers! To celebrate this, I'm back again with another one of these! Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me confirm which houses some of the members should be in💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Gryffindor

The Poor Prefect That Nobody Takes Seriously

"I swear to god, if I see another damn chocolate frog loose in the dorm, I'll—" Before Hongjoong could even finish, a cheeky first-year passing by stuck his tongue out at him. "What are you gonna do? Run off to cry to Professor McGonagall again?"

The seventh-year's jaw dropped, his blood pressure spiking, but the kid was gone before he could even scold him. Two years—he'd been a prefect for almost two years now, and still, no one ever took him seriously. Thinking back to his early days as an optimistic prefect, eager to bring order and discipline to his rowdy housemates, he knew now how impossible that dream was.

But was he going to stop trying?

Not a damn chance.

Hongjoong had chosen to become a prefect the very moment he was eligible in his fifth year. Professors had always praised him as reliable, a natural-born leader, and he'd believed that wholeheartedly. He'd pictured himself bringing order to his dormitory, respected by his housemates for his efforts to keep things in line. But the reality? Gryffindors, as he was learning, could be a lot harder to control than he ever expected.

Unfortunately, his "small but mighty" reputation didn't exactly translate into authority. He'd start off with a firm tone, reminding them of the rules, only to watch them twist his words into a rallying cry for their next scheme. His attempts at seriousness somehow only fueled their chaotic Gryffindor spirits, making him seem more like a mascot for daring antics than a figure of discipline.

While the academic staff continued to commend his commitment, his classmates saw him as the "cool" prefect—the one who'd cover for them more often than not, a little too forgiving to actually be feared. Some nights, he'd even find himself dragged into the very pranks he was supposed to be preventing, swept up by the contagious energy of his friends.

Despite everything, Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to truly give up. Every morning, he'd tell himself that today was the day he'd put his foot down, that he'd be the prefect his professors always said he could be. He knew the odds weren't in his favour, but in true Gryffindor fashion, he wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

Today's the day—I can feel it in my bones.

Letting out a determined breath, Hongjoong's gaze fixed on the notice board, now littered with doodles, silly notes, and questionable "decorations." With a purposeful nod, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the Gryffindors lounging around the common room. "Forget the frogs then. How many times have I told you all not to vandalise the notice board with your nonsense? It's used solely for—"

"For important announcements. Yes, we get it," piped up a cheeky third-year, eyes glinting with mischief. "But there are no announcements at the moment, so is it really so bad if we, y'know, decorate a little?"

And there it was again—the quick responses that left him speechless every time. Hongjoong tried to keep his expression stern, but a tiny part of him could almost see their point. Was it so bad to have a bit of fun? No, he reminded himself, that's not the point. But as he felt his resolve waver, he knew a miracle wasn't going to happen today. Why couldn't he be both firm and likeable, just like—

"Oh, so you want to test if it's bad?" your voice cut through, sharp but calm, as you stepped down from the spiral staircase. You'd been listening long enough to hear their usual defiance, and you were not about to let them undermine your boyfriend's authority. "How about we invite the professors to take a look at your 'artwork' and see how much they'd appreciate it, hm?"

Like you.

Hongjoong released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, grateful for your support. You, with your knack for balancing authority and approachability, were everything he wished he could be as a prefect. If he could just learn how to be firm, like you, maybe Gryffindor's antics would finally come under control.

"You heard her," he added, finding a bit of confidence again as he nodded in agreement. "Clean it up. Now."

The students exchanged glances, sighing as they reluctantly began peeling off the doodles. He couldn't help but grin a little as he glanced your way.

"Thanks, babe," he mouthed.

You shook your head, smiling as you nodded toward the remaining Gryffindors lounging around. "I'm heading to the Great Hall first. I'll leave it to you to get everyone to breakfast on time, Joong. Think you can handle it?"

Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically, eager to make you proud. "You bet. They're going to see a whole new Prefect Kim this year," he declared confidently.

You laughed, both amused and a bit sceptical. He'd nearly caved to their antics just moments ago, but that was part of his charm. You loved how different he was from you—how he helped you loosen up when you were too serious, just as you helped him stay firm when he got a little too lenient. Together, you two were like yin and yang, balanced and perfectly matched, as everyone in the house always teased.

Squeezing his hand, you gave him a playful smile. "Show 'em, tiger," you winked before turning to leave, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning pink.

The moment you were out of sight, the common room burst into whistles and smirks around him. Snapping out of his trance, your boyfriend rolled his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

"Alright, folks," he called out, clapping his hands. "You heard my girl. Let's cooperate for once and head to the Great Hall on time—don't make me disappoint her!"

The Gryffindors grinned, shuffling toward the door without a fuss, eager to play along. He smirked, pleased with their obedience whenever you were mentioned. Maybe he'd always need your presence to keep this difficult crowd in line, but he didn't mind at all. He knew they didn't have to fear him for him to be a good prefect. Deep down, he knew they all adored him, and he was pretty sure that, rule-breaking aside, they wouldn't truly make things difficult for him. They just loved teasing him—because, honestly, he might just be their favourite prefect.

Seonghwa ↠ Hufflepuff

The Goody Two Shoes and Teacher's Pet

"Oh, Seonghwa, my boy! What brings you here on a weekend? Shouldn't you be off enjoying Hogsmeade with your girlfriend?" Professor Sprout asked, pleasantly surprised as her star student stepped into the greenhouse, notebook in hand. The seventh-year smiled brightly, giving her a respectful nod before approaching.

"Good afternoon, Professor! I just came by to check on my mandrake—I'm determined to cultivate one to maturity for my latest Restorative Draught. And, uh… my girlfriend, she'll be here to join me soon," he added, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks turning pink at the mention of you.

Professor Sprout's expression softened, a smile touching her lips. "You're too hard working for your own good, both of you," she gently chided, pride swelling as she glanced at the Hufflepuff sigil pinned proudly on his denim jacket. Even on a day when house representation wasn't required, Park Seonghwa wore his Hufflepuff loyalty openly, reminding everyone where his heart belonged. She knew he had a bright future ahead, and if she were to ever consider early retirement, he would be her top choice to take over as the next Herbology professor.

As if on cue, you pushed open the greenhouse doors and stepped inside. "Hwa, are you here already?" you called, glancing around before your eyes landed on your boyfriend and Professor Sprout.

Seonghwa, who'd been focused on his mandrake, looked up at the sound of your voice, a soft smile lighting up his face. In the presence of authority, he resisted the urge to rush over and hug you, his restraint both endearing and unmistakable. You bit back a laugh, amused by his adorable attempt at composure.

"Oh! Good afternoon, Professor!" you greeted, nodding respectfully. "Are we disturbing you? We can come another day if you need the greenhouse for your work."

She smiled warmly, waving off your concern. "Not at all, dearie. I was just on my way out. You two enjoy your little date," she added with a knowing wink. "And if you're in the mood for a treat, there are some extra Every Flavour Beans on the top shelf—please help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor!" you and Seonghwa chimed in unison, exchanging a look of warmth and shared gratitude. As the elderly woman left, he gently took your hand, pulling you close enough to place a soft kiss on your forehead. You leaned into him with a contented sigh. "How embarrassing—now she's certain we're dating," you murmured, unable to hide your own smile.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with affection. "Is that such a terrible thing, love? Maybe it's time the whole world knows you're mine."

You gasped in mock scandal, playfully nudging his shoulder. "How improper," you laughed, but a blush crept into your cheeks. Though you'd never formally announced your relationship, it was hardly a secret—everyone must have guessed by now with all the time you spent together. But for the sake of his reputation as the model student, you'd both kept things understated, not feeling the need to broadcast your love. Now, though, there was a new spark in his eyes, a hint of the Slytherin heritage running through his veins, as if he suddenly wanted the world to see what his heart had always known.

Seonghwa, after all, was the first Hufflepuff in a long line of Ravenclaws and Slytherins—a surprise his family hadn't quite anticipated. But their surprise had never bothered him. Instead, it had only strengthened his resolve to prove that Hufflepuff was as noble and worthy as any other house. Consistently at the top of his class in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, he'd gained the admiration of professors for his quiet dedication and high moral standards. Always the first to lend a hand to new students or submit his assignments, he was as dependable as they came.

Yet as much as he wanted to honour his house and his achievements, his heart now longed for something deeper. For the first time, he wanted his family—and everyone else—to see you, the one who had believed in him through every challenge and celebrated every victory, who had loved him exactly as he was. He knew that letting you into his life so openly would be the proudest badge he could ever wear.

"So," he began, biting his lip as he shifted his focus from the mandrake to you, who was busily jotting down notes about its latest growth. "Should we spend some time in Hogsmeade after this?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and your eyes widened slightly, your actions faltering as you locked gazes with him.

"You're joking, right? All our friends are there—" you started, but he shook his head, his expression earnest. "I'm serious, love."

The weight of his words sank in, and you realised he wasn't joking at all. A rush of emotions washed over you. "I... I don't know why it took me so long, but I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore. I want to openly show my affection and be like every other couple in school. It's already our seventh year, and we haven't even been on a proper date. Can we make this the first of many more? Would you like to... go on a date with me?"

Placing your pen down, you blinked, your heart racing at his sincere proposal. This was a big step. Once the truth was out in the open, there would be no turning back—everyone, including his family, would know about you two. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt a rush of warmth. If he was ready for it, then so were you. You knew he would always protect you, no matter what.

With a shy smile, you nodded, feeling butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Thought you'd never ask."

His face broke into a radiant grin, and the world around you seemed to melt away. Seonghwa stepped closer, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, enveloped in the warmth of his presence like a cosy blanket. "I can't wait," he murmured softly.

"Me too," you replied, a wave of excitement bubbling in your chest.

In that greenhouse, surrounded by vibrant plants and warm sunlight, you both felt the first tender blooms of something beautiful—a love that was finally ready to thrive in the open, with all the joy and light that came with it.

Yunho ↠ Hufflepuff

The Popular Triwizard Champion

"Well? Have you managed to figure out the next task, golden boy?"

Yunho's head snapped around at the sound of your voice, his wide eyes betraying his surprise. Before he could respond, a few stray water droplets from his damp hair splashed onto you, drawing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh no! Angel, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, hastily brushing at your sleeve, his genuine concern making you laugh. He held the golden egg tightly, now safely shut after his latest round of inspections. "But seriously, what are you doing here? You'll be in trouble if anyone finds you sneaking into the prefect's bathroom!"

You snorted, though your heart melted at the way his brows knitted with worry. "Well, I could say the same for you, Yuyu. You're not a prefect either," you quipped with a grin.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the steamy room as he swam closer to where you sat at the edge of the bath, your legs lazily dangling in the water. Gently, he set the golden egg beside you, then rested his arms on your thighs, gazing up at you with a playful smirk.

"The difference is, I'm a Triwizard Champion," he teased, his grin widening, "and you're not."

Rolling your eyes, you booped his nose with a finger, earning a soft laugh from him. "True, I'm not," you replied, sticking your tongue out cheekily. "But I am your girlfriend, so that grants me a special privilege, doesn't it?"

Yunho's gaze softened as he beamed up at you, water glistening on his face like tiny jewels. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate. "It definitely does."

With a tender smile, you reached out to brush the water from his face, gently pushing his damp hair back from his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when he instinctively leaned into your touch, his warmth grounding you despite the growing tension in your chest.

"You haven't answered me yet," you reminded him softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you figured out the answer to the second task?"

He nodded, his hand lifting to cover yours on his cheek, holding it in place as though it anchored him. He gave your fingers a soft, reassuring squeeze. "I have," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. "But... I don't want you to freak out. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Despite his comforting tone, the knot in your stomach tightened. You tried to mask it with a cheeky smile, nudging him lightly with your foot in the water. "Suuure, Yuyu. I totally believe you when you say these tasks will get easier. I mean, it's not like the first one involved dragons or anything."

Your boyfriend sighed, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. You knew he was thinking about the moment his name had been announced as the Hogwarts champion—the wave of fear that had gripped you as the Great Hall erupted in cheers.

He had submitted his name on a whim, more as a joke than anything. He hadn't thought for a second he'd actually be chosen. But of course, you should've known better. He was Jung Yunho—the school's golden boy. Everyone adored him, from his endless optimism to his natural charm. He could light up any room he walked into and never turned away anyone in need. His wild card selection had shocked everyone, but he had embraced it with the same unshakable enthusiasm he brought to everything in life.

For him, the Triwizard Tournament was an adventure, a chance to make memories and new friends. For you, it was a constant worry. You knew the dangers far too well, and it terrified you. Still, when he had emerged victorious after the first task, his joy had been contagious, and you told yourself you had to let your fear go. You couldn't hold him back from greatness. He needed your support, and you were determined to be the girlfriend he deserved.

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping it would reassure him as much as it did you. "Alright," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. "So tell me. What's the second task?"

Before you could pull away, he held onto you, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. His voice softened, steady but laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"The Black Lake," he said quietly. "I... I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but the conviction in his eyes made you hold your ground. Whatever this task demanded, you knew one thing for sure: you'd face it together.

And his predictions couldn't have been more accurate—he and the champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had an hour to retrieve something that had been stolen from them from the merpeople's village beneath the Black Lake.

The lake was eerily silent, its surface shimmering under the overcast sky as Yunho broke through the water, gasping for air. His strong arms cradled you protectively, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. The tension that had gripped him since the start of the task finally began to ease now that you were safe in his embrace.

You coughed violently, expelling the icy water from your lungs, your breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. The fragments of what had happened began piecing themselves together in your mind—the haunting stillness of the underwater village, the muffled echo of water all around, and your boyfriend's words from the prefect's bathroom resurfacing with a jarring clarity: "I have a feeling I'm going to need you to get through this task."

He had been right.

The task wasn't just about retrieving an object of value—it was about recovering the most precious thing stolen from them.

For Yunho, that had been you.

"Oh thank god, you're alright," he murmured, his voice thick with relief as he guided you onto the shore. The cheers and applause from the crowd were a distant hum in the background, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. Grabbing a towel, he draped it over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth before pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely, as though anchoring you back to him and shielding you from the chill that clung to the air.

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, his familiar scent grounding you amidst the chaos of the moment. Despite the lingering cold, a soft smile crept onto your lips. Your voice, though weak, carried an unwavering sincerity. "How could I not be? You'll always save me… my hero."

His grip on you tightened at your words, his heart swelling with emotion as he buried his face in your hair. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady but laced with the weight of his promise. "Now I understand how hard it is for you to worry about me. I promise I'll make it out alive, every time—for you."

The announcement of his second-place finish barely registered. Everything seemed insignificant in the face of what truly mattered. All that filled his mind was the undeniable fact that you were safe, right here in his arms—the one person he cared for most.

Yeosang ↠ Ravenclaw

The Annoying Ace

"Hey, Kang! What'd you get for Potions? There's no way you aced it this time—it was brutal, and you barely studied before the test," a fellow Ravenclaw called out, pulling Yeosang from his thoughts. He glanced up, a small, nonchalant smile gracing his lips as he held up his graded paper. "You're right, it was tough. I only got an A- this time."

The room fell silent. His classmates stared at him, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Was he serious? Most of the class had barely scraped by, even after endless hours of revision. Seventh-year Potions was no joke, filled with the most complex and challenging formulas known to the wizarding world.

"Only an A-? Are you kidding me? Did you bribe the professor or something?" someone blurted out, their voice tinged with disbelief.

You, seated next to your boyfriend, shot them a sharp glare. "Say that again in front of Professor Slughorn. I dare you," you retorted, crossing your arms.

The student huffed indignantly, muttering under their breath. "Whatever. You probably cheated with Felix Felicis or something."

Before you could unleash another scathing comeback, Yeosang gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his calm demeanour soothing your rising temper. His ever-composed smile didn't waver as he addressed the accusation. "Well," he began, his voice light but laced with quiet confidence, "if we were skilled enough to brew the Liquid Luck flawlessly and effectively, wouldn't that alone prove we deserve our grades?"

The remark landed with perfect precision, leaving everyone speechless. They knew he had a point. Brewing the luck potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline impossible for most, requiring six months of meticulous preparation and risking catastrophic failure if done even slightly wrong.

The room buzzed with unspoken thoughts. If you and Yeosang could pull off such a feat, would the Potions exam have been challenging for either of you?

Your lips quirked into a satisfied smile as you exchanged a glance with your boyfriend. That was just like him—always shutting down his doubters with quiet brilliance, never needing to raise his voice to prove his worth.

"Man, I really need to learn how to be as effortlessly cool as you," you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge as he led you by the hand out of the classroom and toward the courtyard for some fresh air.

He glanced at you, his usual relaxed grin softening into something fonder. "You're already the coolest person to me," he replied casually as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you lightly smacked his arm, looking away as you bit your lip to hide the spreading blush. Even now, you could hardly believe he had accepted your confession back then—and that he was now your boyfriend. To you, he had always seemed so distant, so untouchable, like a star out of reach.

That was, until the day he noticed you struggling with a potion after class and offered to help. You hadn't known it at the time, but that small moment of kindness would lead to something far greater.

Yeosang is that Ravenclaw—the one who always seems lost in his thoughts yet somehow aces every test with ease, charming every professor in the process. He's the envy of his classmates, who burn the midnight oil studying while he effortlessly secures perfect scores. His calm, almost ethereal demeanour only adds to the intrigue, making him a bit of a mystery to everyone around him.

No one can figure out how he manages to zone out during Potions lessons and still brew flawless draughts, but they're too in awe (and slightly frustrated) to ask. It's just him—an enigma wrapped in quiet confidence, and somehow, he was yours.

"But seriously, Yeo, have you actually managed to perfect your luck potion? Don't think I didn't notice Professor Slughorn sneaking glances your way. He really did trust you to brew some for him, didn't he?" you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing his where they were intertwined with yours.

He hummed softly, the sound vibrating against you as he rested his head atop yours. With a flick of his wand, he cast a subtle charm to deflect a stray prank from a group of cheeky Gryffindors playing with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The spell stopped the flying object just before it could land anywhere near you. Your heart fluttered at his nonchalant protectiveness, and you couldn't help but notice the envious sighs from a few girls nearby.

"I'll answer that," he murmured, his tone teasing, "when you tell me how you managed to brew such a flawless Amortentia draught."

You blinked, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "The love potion? What are you talking about? I've never even tried to make one."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you sure about that?"

You furrowed your brows, your confusion deepening. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your tone laced with scepticism. But before you could press him further, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss, leaving you gasping softly in surprise. Your hand flew to your lips, cheeks aflame as you tried to process what just happened.

Yeosang chuckled at your flustered reaction, his arm slipping securely around your back as he guided you to keep walking. "Then explain how you managed to make me so hopelessly enamoured with you," he said, his voice low but teasing. "It's the only logical explanation for how smitten I am."

"Oh, obviously. That's the only logical explanation," you burst out laughing, playfully trying to push him away, but he held firm, his grip steady yet gentle.

He chuckled along with you, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Exactly, my love. You've clearly bewitched me, and I have no intention of breaking free."

"The feeling's mutual, my darling genius."

San ↠ Slytherin

The Intimidating Head Boy Who's Secretly a Softie

"Oh, come on, Pumpkin! When will you learn to leave the Monster Book of Monsters alone?!" San groaned in exasperation, his eyes following his mischievous cat as it darted around, narrowly avoiding the snapping Care of Magical Creatures textbook that was now chasing it across the yard. The naughty feline had somehow managed to unclasp the book—again. "Come here, you stubborn little thing!" he called, swooping in to scoop up the cat.

With practised ease, he approached the wild book, stroking its spine gently until it calmed and locked itself shut, just as Hagrid had taught. Of course, San was probably the only one who had actually paid attention to that particular lesson.

A dramatic gasp caught his attention, and he turned to find you standing nearby, a teasing grin plastered across your face.

"Well well, who would've thought? The scary and intimidating Choi San names his cat Pumpkin? And a cat, no less? I always pictured you with an owl or a crow. Guess you're a softie after all. Wait till the rest of the house finds out."

He rolled his eyes but smirked, settling back into his seat behind Hagrid's hut. "Go ahead and tell them, sweetheart. It's not like I asked anyone to see me as the 'mean and cold Slytherin.' If they want to believe that, then that's on them."

You chuckled and took a seat beside him, watching as he cooed at his cat and peppered it with kisses. "So, what's a big bad boy like you doing out here, hm?"

"Detention, obviously," he deadpanned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fits my reputation, doesn't it?"

You shook your head knowingly, the corner of your lips curling upward. "If that's what you're calling it, sure. But Hagrid told me you were out here for some extra lessons on Hippogriffs when I passed him earlier."

He feigned a pout, resting his chin on Pumpkin's head. "Damn, you caught me. There goes my big bad boy image. Boohoo."

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

San had always been an enigma to those around him. With his sharp, commanding presence and role as Head Boy, he had a reputation for being unapproachable. First-years practically scrambled out of his way in the corridors. But those who dared get to know him soon discovered that beneath the piercing gaze and confident swagger was a playful, caring soul who adored magical creatures.

And you? You were supposedly his rival—his female counterpart, according to your peers. With your equally composed demeanour and role as Head Girl, it wasn't uncommon for people to pit the two of you against each other. But those who looked closer would've seen the truth: you were far from rivals. If anything, you were two halves of the same warm, hidden flame, especially when it came to each other.

"Well, I hope you don't mind me joining you on your little detention, Choi," you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hummed thoughtfully, nuzzling his head against yours. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" you glanced up at him.

He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend, Head Girl."

"Alright, alright. None of that in my class," Hagrid's booming voice cut through the moment, startling both of you as you quickly pulled apart, clearing your throats in unison.

San shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck while you tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh.

Hagrid folded his massive arms across his chest, his bushy eyebrows raised knowingly. "We're only doing this if you're both serious, okay? This isn't some fun little date idea."

You nodded earnestly, though the corners of your lips twitched with amusement. "Of course, Professor. We're serious about this."

But Hagrid wasn't done.

Turning his attention to the Head Boy, he added, "But please, do take her to Hogsmeade, lad. I've heard more than enough from you about how much you like her."

San's eyes widened, his cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "H-Hagrid!" he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual.

You couldn't hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter as he glared at you half-heartedly. "Oh, you're never living this down," you teased, nudging his arm.

"I—uh—yes, sir," he mumbled, his voice barely audible as he stared down at the ground, clearly flustered.

The professor chuckled, giving a hearty clap to the young man's shoulder that nearly made him stumble. "That's what I like to hear, Choi. Now, back to work, both of you. Those Hippogriffs aren't going to train themselves."

As Hagrid lumbered away, you leaned closer to San, grinning. "So, how much do you like me, Choi San?"

He groaned, his hands covering his face. "Can we just focus on the Hippogriffs?"

"Not a chance," you replied smugly, your laughter ringing out as his ears turned an even brighter shade of red.

The journey back to the common room was filled with quiet comfort, but as you both stepped through the entrance, his demeanour shifted instantly. Gone was the flustered boy from earlier; in his place stood the stoic and commanding Head Boy, his sharp gaze sweeping over the lounging students.

"Keep it down," he said curtly to a group of rowdy second-years, his tone leaving no room for argument. They immediately quieted, murmuring apologies.

You bit back a smile, watching his transformation with newfound amusement. After seeing the playful, gentle side of him during the lesson with Hagrid, this intimidating persona of his now seemed more endearing than imposing. It was his way of keeping the chaos in check, and you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he switched between the two sides of himself.

As you trailed behind him, snippets of hushed whispers reached your ears.

"Did they come back together?"

"Isn't that the Head Girl?"

"Are they… you know?"

You glanced at San and caught the slight gulp he tried to conceal, his stiff posture giving away his unease despite his poker face.

When you both reached the point where the dorms split, you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. He stood tall, keeping his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest flicker of nervousness in his eyes. The room fell silent, the curious gazes of your housemates fixed on the two of you.

You smirked, breaking the tension. "So, Hogsmeade this weekend, right?"

His eyes widened, and a soft gasp rippled through the common room. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he met your gaze. "You… accept?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though the playful glint in your eyes betrayed your amusement. "Well, you did say I could only join you earlier if I agreed to this. Seeing as we've already finished the lesson, that clearly means I've accepted, no?"

For a moment, his carefully constructed mask faltered, replaced by a grin so wide and boyish that it made your heart skip a beat. He didn't care about the whispers anymore as he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to give yours a gentle squeeze.

"It's a date then, Head Girl."

You smiled back, your voice light but teasing as you replied, "Sounds good, Head Boy."

The room erupted into murmurs and low cheers as you turned and walked toward your dorm, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappeared from sight. If San had been worried about his reputation before, it was clear now that he didn't care.

Not when it came to you.

Mingi ↠ Ravenclaw

The Son of a Famous Wizard Scientist

"Going somewhere, Song?"

Mingi cursed under his breath, reluctantly pulling the invisibility cloak off his frame to face you. You sat casually in one of the Ravenclaw common room chairs, a book in hand and an amused smirk playing on your lips. He looked thoroughly defeated. "How do you always figure me out?"

You chuckled, closing your book and setting it aside as you straightened up. "It's not that hard with your lack of stealth. I feel the breeze every time you pass by. Honestly, the real mystery is how Filch hasn't caught you yet."

He crossed his arms with a huff, a pout forming on his lips. "Ugh, what's it gonna take for you to pretend you didn't see me? My dad cannot find out. Name your price."

You tapped your chin, standing to your full height and eyeing the Marauder's Map in his hands. "I want in on whatever you're up to."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You? But aren't you like... the model Ravenclaw? Goody two shoes, follows every rule, reads for fun? Why would you risk your squeaky-clean image for something like this?"

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Let's just say I'm curious about what the great wizard scientist's son is always sneaking off to do instead of, I don't know, living up to everyone's—and your father's—expectations."

He sighed in defeat, lifting his left arm to gesture for you to join him under the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just make sure you can keep up. And for Merlin's sake, please tell me your stealth skills are better than mine. You really don't want to run into Mrs. Norris."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied, ducking under the cloak with him, your heart racing at the prospect of finally joining him on one of his adventures.

And so, that night marked the beginning of an unlikely yet thrilling partnership: you and Song Mingi, partners-in-crime navigating Hogwarts past curfew.

For someone as studious and rule-abiding as you, it was a surprising twist to find yourself sneaking through hidden passageways, clutching an invisibility cloak, and dodging prefects alongside someone like Mingi. But there was something irresistibly intriguing about him—the way he effortlessly balanced his rebellious streak with a sharp intellect, and how his lighthearted demeanour contrasted with the heavy expectations placed upon him.

You see, unlike your ordinary self, his life was all about finding his own path despite the pressures of his family name. As the son of a renowned wizarding scientist, expectations for him to follow in those illustrious footsteps were high. But Mingi? He wasn't interested in being defined by anyone else's legacy.

Sure, he had the smarts for it—his insights into magical theories often surprised you, even when they were thrown in casually during one of your late-night escapades. But instead of shouldering the weight of those expectations, he found joy in simply being himself. He explored magic for the sake of curiosity, not obligation.

Of course, it was hard for someone like him to truly fly under the radar. With his tall frame and infectious laugh, he had a knack for drawing attention no matter how much he tried to avoid it. He'd always play it off with an easy grin, though—effortlessly charming his way out of trouble (well, most of the time).

And now, here you were, walking beside him in the dead of night, laughing softly at his whispered commentary about the portraits on the walls. It was a side of him most people didn't see—carefree, thoughtful, and incredibly warm.

"Alright, where to next, partner?" you asked, barely containing your grin as you reached a fork in the corridor.

He glanced at the map, his finger tracing a path. "A secret stash of sweets hidden near the kitchens. Wanna check it out?"

"Only if you're willing to share," you teased, bumping his shoulder lightly.

He smirked, holding the cloak open as you ducked beneath it again. "Deal. But only because I need you to distract the house elves if we get caught."

With that, the two of you disappeared into the night, laughter echoing softly down the empty hallways. It was the start of a friendship, and perhaps something more that, against all odds, just worked.

On one of the slower days at school, the two of you lounged in the Great Hall, a wizard's chessboard between you. The usual hum of scattered conversations and the clinking of goblets provided a quiet backdrop as Mingi hunched over the board, his tall frame bent in concentration. His eyes darted between pieces, plotting his next move with a focus that made you smirk.

"I've got an idea," you said, leaning back with a teasing grin. "Whoever loses has to take on a dare during tonight's adventure."

His head shot up, a glimmer of intrigue lighting up his eyes. He grinned, his expression a mix of mischief and admiration for the rebellious streak you seemed to save just for him. "Oh, it's on."

The match stretched out with calculated moves and sly counters, both of you pouring focus into claiming victory. But when your queen finally cornered his king, you leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Checkmate," you declared, watching the realisation dawn on his face.

He groaned theatrically, throwing his head back. "Noooo!"

You laughed, folding your arms smugly. "Now, about that dare..."

He straightened in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to guess your plan. "Alright, hit me with your worst."

A mischievous gleam danced in your eyes as you leaned forward and whispered, "Tonight, when we sneak out, you have to charm Moaning Myrtle with your best pickup lines."

His jaw dropped, his ears turning an amusing shade of red. "You want me to flirt with a ghost?!"

"That's the dare," you said, grinning wider.

He blinked at you in disbelief, then let out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "You're insane. But fine—a deal's a deal."

As the two of you packed up, you noticed a flicker of something softer in his gaze. He clearly enjoyed this side of you, the playful daring you didn't often let others see.

The night was quiet as you snuck through the dark hallways, huddled beneath the invisibility cloak. The close proximity made it impossible to ignore the way your shoulders brushed, or how you could feel his breath softly against your ear as he whispered directions. You tried to focus, but the warmth radiating from him and the faint smell of his cologne made it difficult.

He wasn't faring any better. His movements felt unusually cautious, his arm brushing against yours more often than necessary, his voice a little lower than usual when he whispered, "Careful where you step."

Ironically, it was his warning that broke your concentration. Your foot landed on something uneven, and before you could stop yourself, you tripped, sending a potted plant toppling from its perch.

The crash echoed loudly through the corridor. "What was that?!" Filch's voice screeched in the distance, sending panic shooting through you both.

"Move!" Mingi hissed, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nearest room. The door creaked shut just as the school caretaker's hurried footsteps grew louder.

You realised, to your dismay, that the "room" was a cramped broom cupboard. The two of you were squished together in the small space, the invisibility cloak still draped awkwardly over your heads. Your breathing was ragged from the sudden sprint, and you both struggled to keep quiet as Filch's grumbling grew nearer.

"Stupid kids sneaking around… I'll catch them sooner or later," he muttered as his footsteps faded in the opposite direction.

Only when the sound of his boots disappeared entirely did you dare to speak. "We're safe now," you whispered.

"Yeah," Mingi murmured back, his voice quieter than usual.

That's when you noticed just how close you were. Your heart stuttered as you looked up, your nose grazing his. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and shallow, mingling with your own. Neither of you moved, the air between you was charged and heavy.

He swallowed hard, his hand slowly brushing against yours beneath the cloak. "I know I lost the game," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But... is it alright if I flirt with someone else tonight?"

Your breath caught, your thoughts spinning as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing yours.

"That depends on who it is," you whispered back, your voice shaky.

He smiled softly, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "You."

Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, your hand slid up to grip the collar of his shirt as you murmured, "Fine."

Then, closing the final distance, you pressed your lips to his. When you finally pulled away, the world felt different as you stayed close, foreheads touching. He let out a soft chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Best dare I've ever lost."

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to keep challenging you then, Song."

"Guess you will," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

Wooyoung ↠ Gryffindor

The Talented Quidditch Beater

"Woo, you got it! That's my boy!"

The sound of your voice rang out across the pitch, instantly catching Wooyoung's attention. A grin lit up his face as he turned mid-flight on his Nimbus 2000, his eyes sparkling as they met yours.

"I'll make you proud, babe!" he called back, his tone brimming with confidence.

"Not if you can't keep your eyes on the game," his teammate—another Beater—shouted, swooping in just in time to deflect a bludger barreling toward him.

His eyes widened at the close call before a sheepish, boyish grin spread across his face. "Thanks, mate. That was a little too close!"

He turned his attention back to you, throwing you a playful wink and blowing a kiss in your direction. "Love you," he mouthed with a quick smirk, clearly revelling in the way your worried gaze softened into a smile.

And then, just like that, he was off again, zooming across the pitch like the fearless champ he was, ready to win not just for his team, but for the person cheering him on from the stands.

Pride swelled in your chest like a warm, unrelenting tide as you watched your boyfriend play. It was almost surreal to think about how far the two of you had come—especially since there was a time when you couldn't stand him.

Back then, Jung Wooyoung was everything you couldn't tolerate: loud, attention-seeking, and constantly wreaking havoc with his pranks. He was the popular Gryffindor Quidditch star with a magnetic grin, always surrounded by friends and admirers. Meanwhile, you were his polar opposite—a shy, studious student with no interest in shenanigans, focused solely on excelling in your studies and making your parents proud.

It all started when one of his pranks nearly ruined your Transfiguration assignment. Furious, you'd confronted him in front of half the common room, calling him reckless and immature. Wooyoung, never one to back down, had retaliated with a smirk, calling you boring and stiff. That marked the beginning of your rivalry—petty remarks, pointed glares, and intentionally getting on each other's nerves became routine.

But everything changed the day he overheard a group of Slytherins mocking you. Their cruel taunts about your Muggle heritage—and the word "Mudblood" slicing through the air—left you reeling. Before you could even muster a response, he stepped in, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something sharp and unyielding.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The bullies faltered under his glare, and though they tried to brush it off, he didn't let them escape unscathed. He stood firm, defending you with a conviction that left you stunned.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. He made it clear that no one was to mess with you—not even his own friends, who had occasionally targeted you with harmless pranks. In return, you stopped berating him for his antics, accepting that his mischief was simply part of who he was. Over time, you found yourself laughing at his jokes, and he discovered a softer side to you that few others had ever seen.

Years passed, and that fragile truce evolved into friendship. Somewhere along the way, the friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you could ignore. And now, here you were, standing in the Gryffindor stands, cheering him on with every fibre of your being.

Only after being with him did you truly understand why so many adored him for his talent. On the pitch, he was in his element. As a Beater, he thrived on adrenaline, his bat swinging with precision as he sent a bludger hurtling toward the opposing team. He was a natural showman, hyping up the crowd with daring plays and cheeky winks. Though his mischievous nature was ever-present, he became fiercely competitive during matches, his focus unshakable when it came to leading his house to victory.

You smiled as he executed a flawless manoeuvre, his laughter echoing across the pitch when the crowd erupted into cheers. He was so different from the boy you had once disliked, yet so quintessentially the same. His charm, his energy, his ability to make everyone around him feel alive—it was impossible not to love him for it.

"Watch this, babe!" he called as he rocketed past the stands, his grin wide and unrestrained. He was a whirlwind of passion and joy, and he was yours. And somehow, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Aaaand Gryffindor wins!"

The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as the Gryffindor Seeker triumphantly held up the golden snitch, the tiny wings glinting under the bright sun. Cheers echoed through the stands, Gryffindor flags waving wildly in celebration. You cheered, knowing that much of this victory was thanks to your boyfriend, who had spent the game clearing the path for his teammate with skilful swings of his bat.

Amid the chaos, Wooyoung's sharp eyes immediately sought you out. Despite the throng of screaming fans and his own teammates clamouring to celebrate, all he could see was you. Without hesitation, he veered his broom in your direction, ignoring the unmistakable warning glare from Professor McGonagall.

Hovering in front of you, he flashed his signature grin, his chest rising and falling from the adrenaline of the match. Before you could say a word, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and slightly chapped from the cold wind. The crowd's cheers seemed to fade as you felt his smile against your own, your cheeks heating with the realisation of how public this display was.

When you pulled away, your voice was barely above a whisper. "That's enough, Woo. You don't want detention now, do you?"

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I wouldn't mind it if you were there too." With a wink, he flew off to join his team, leaving you blinking sheepishly under Professor McGonagall's sharp gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to smooth down your robes as you mumbled, "Sorry, Professor."

To your surprise, her expression softened, and she gestured for you to walk with her as the stands began to empty. "Don't be," she said, her voice measured but kind. "You're a good motivator for him. We appreciate it. I won't lie and say our victories haven't increased since you came into the picture."

Her words left you blushing furiously as you followed her down the steps. Did that mean even she shipped you and Wooyoung? The very thought had you hiding a bashful smile behind your scarf, the cheers of the Gryffindor team still ringing in your ears.

Jongho ↠ Slytherin

The Scary Prefect Who Commands Respect

"There he is! Shhh, keep it down!"

Your friends scrambled to settle into their seats, hastily lowering their voices and pretending to focus on the books in front of them. You followed their lead, keeping your head down as the most intimidating prefect of Slytherin entered the library. Choi Jongho's very name was enough to make most students sit up straight, and his imposing presence only amplified that effect. His silence carried more weight than words ever could, commanding obedience and respect effortlessly.

You swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the text in front of you, but your focus wavered the moment his footsteps stopped—right beside you. Your heart raced as you eyed his polished shoes, unsure if you'd done something wrong. Too nervous to meet his gaze, you froze in place, waiting for whatever came next.

"Here. I think you dropped this," he said, his voice low yet unexpectedly warm.

Your eyes widened at the gentle tone, and you glanced up to see him holding out your late father's pocket watch. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—so fleeting you wondered if you'd imagined it.

"O-oh, thank you," you stammered, taking the cherished item from him. A spark shot through you when your fingers brushed against his, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you hadn't anticipated.

"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice kind yet measured, before continuing on his patrol.

As you watched him walk away, a realisation settled in your mind—perhaps he wasn't as fearsome as everyone claimed.

Jongho's reputation was well-earned. As a Slytherin prefect, he didn't need to raise his voice to maintain order. A single stern look was enough to make any student think twice about misbehaving, and his word was as final as it was rare. Yet, those who truly knew him understood there was more to him than his intimidating exterior. Beneath the cool, composed demeanour was a steadfast friend with a laugh that could shatter his usual seriousness in an instant.

And soon, you would become one of the few to witness that softer side of him—though, for now, you had no idea what lay ahead.

It was on a particularly eerie evening that you would come to learn the truth. The air hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as you wandered along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, seeking solitude to clear your mind after a gruelling week. The low-hanging clouds cloaked the forest in shadows, and the quiet seemed almost too oppressive.

But peace was the last thing you found.

A low, menacing growl rippled through the trees, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath caught as you turned, your wand trembling in your hand, to face a pair of glowing eyes cutting through the darkness.

A werewolf.

Your heart pounded wildly as the creature advanced, its snarling lips curling back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic seized you. You tried to cast a spell, but fear made your movements clumsy, and the incantation faltered on your tongue. The werewolf snarled again, its deadly intent unmistakable.

You were sure you were doomed.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tense silence, startling both you and the beast. From the shadows emerged a massive bear, its fur bristling and eyes blazing with an otherworldly fury. The bear wasted no time, charging at the werewolf with raw power and unmatched ferocity.

Their clash was brutal and swift, the werewolf no match for the bear's strength and determination. Before long, the defeated creature limped off into the safety of the forest, leaving you frozen in place, trembling from head to toe.

The bear turned its attention to you, its intelligent gaze locking onto yours. Despite your fear, there was something strangely familiar in the way it looked at you—almost protective.

And then, to your utter disbelief, the bear began to shift. Its enormous form shrank, fur receding as its features morphed into something distinctly human. In a matter of moments, you found yourself staring at Choi Jongho, his sharp eyes unwavering as they met yours.

"You…" The word barely escaped your lips, your voice a mere whisper. "You're an animagus?"

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded. "Yes," he admitted, his tone steady but quiet.

You blinked, your mind racing to process what you had just witnessed. It wasn't just the transformation that left you reeling—it was the way he had risked himself to save you. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" you finally managed.

He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, you saw the stoic facade crack, revealing something raw beneath. "People already think I'm intimidating enough," he said, his voice laced with vulnerability. "If they knew I could turn into a bear, they'd see me as a monster. Even if I chose this form to protect, not harm."

Your chest tightened at his words, at the loneliness he must have carried. His stern demeanour suddenly made sense—it was a shield, a way to keep others from seeing the parts of himself he feared they wouldn't understand.

"But it's not a bad thing," you said softly, taking a step closer. "You became an animagus for a noble reason. That says more about who you are than anything else."

His gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But not everyone would see it the same way. People fear what they don't understand."

For the first time, you saw through the intimidating exterior everyone else feared. Beneath it all, he was just someone who cared deeply, someone who bore the weight of his secrets quietly for the sake of those around him.

"Thank you for saving me," you said earnestly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Your secret's safe with me. I promise."

He nodded, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone warm yet reserved. "Now, you should get back. It's not safe out here."

"And you?"

"I'll make sure the forest is clear," he assured you, his protective instincts shining through. "Go. I'll be right behind you."

As you made your way back to the castle, your mind was consumed with thoughts of Jongho. The boy who had just saved your life was so much more than the fearsome prefect everyone believed him to be. And now, you carried a piece of his truth, a secret that revealed a depth to him you never would have imagined.

From then on, something shifted.

You became one of the few who dared to hold his gaze, the rare recipient of his fleeting smiles. Where others saw the intimidating Slytherin prefect, you saw the quiet strength and vulnerability he kept hidden beneath the surface. And nothing shocked people more than seeing him sit next to you at breakfast in the Great Hall.

Whispers rippled through the tables, curious and incredulous alike. Choi Jongho, the stoic and fearsome prefect, sitting with someone? A girl? The novelty was enough to turn heads, but what truly caught people's attention was the way he looked at you.

There was something unmistakable in his eyes—a quiet affection, soft and unguarded, as if your presence unravelled the walls he so carefully maintained.

He glanced over at you as you finished your meal, his expression relaxed yet tinged with curiosity. "Where are you headed after this?" he asked, his tone casual but attentive.

You wiped your hands with a napkin, smiling up at him. "The Duelling Club."

His eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "The Duelling Club? But why?"

You bit back a laugh at his incredulity, placing your fork down with an amused shake of your head. "Because someone with a very admirable trait has inspired me," you said, your voice warm with sincerity. "To be stronger, to protect those around me too."

The words caught him off guard, and you watched as his usual composure faltered. He blinked, a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. The sight was endearing, a rare glimpse of boyishness in the otherwise composed prefect.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching for his goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a long sip as if it might steady him. Setting it down, he muttered softly, "You don't have to." His eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable but earnest. "You'll always have me."

Your chest warmed at his words, his quiet promise resonating deeply. He might have been the boy feared by many, but to you, he was simply someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I know," you said, your voice gentle but firm. "But it doesn't hurt to know how to hold my own, does it?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips curving upward in a rare but genuine smile. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before turning back to his plate. "But I'm coming with."

Any fellow Potterheads here? Humour this poor author and tell me about your Hogwarts house, your favourite Harry Potter book/movie as well as your favourite character! Most importantly, let me know if you agree with the houses I've sorted the members into!

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[passengerprincessblog]

“Something Sweet” Charles Leclerc Short

FLUFF ⭐️

Summary: Charles surprises Y/N with playful affection, stealing her ice cream and teasing her as they cozy up on the couch. In their quiet Monaco apartment, love blooms in the little moments, proving that even the silliest gestures can mean everything.

The soft glow of the TV lights up the darkened living room, casting a warm haze around me as I sink deeper into Charles’ plush couch. Monaco nights like these feel serene, with only the distant hum of the city below, quieted by the safety of his apartment walls. I let out a contented sigh, savoring each lick of my vanilla and caramel ice cream cone. It’s pure bliss — my favorite show, my favorite ice cream, and the comfort of Charles’ home around me.

Just as I’m lost in the familiar plotline on screen, I feel a shift beside me. Charles slides into the room, and his gaze locks onto me with an expression that’s equal parts adoration and amusement.

“Look at you… enjoying yourself? Huh?” His voice is teasing, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he flops down next to me — so close, he’s practically on top of me.

I make a tiny, dramatic sound of annoyance, but truthfully, I don’t mind him crowding me. His warmth presses against me, and he’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek as he leans in to plant a soft kiss there. His hand reaches up, pinching my cheek gently.

“Beautiful little baby,” he coos, his voice soft and adoring.

My face flushes immediately, but I try to brush it off, taking another lick of my ice cream to distract myself. He watches, and I can see that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes as he eyes the cone.

“Let me try some of that, Y/N,” he says, his hand darting out to steal it before I can protest. He takes a big, dramatic lick of the ice cream, savoring it with a grin.

“Get your own!” I whine, reaching for it.

“This is mine now,” he teases, taking another big bite, nearly finishing off the whole top.

I huff in frustration, crossing my arms as he chuckles at my reaction, his own cheeks tinged with a playful blush. I know he’s enjoying this little game, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, fully aware that I’m not fooling anyone. He loves to test my patience, and truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hand finds its way to my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch is comforting, sending a warm, tingling sensation that contrasts with the coldness of the ice cream. I watch him, my lips pressing into a pout as I wait for him to hand it back.

“You can ask for it back,” he teases, eyebrows lifting in that charmingly arrogant way of his.

I smile despite myself, trying to keep up my fake annoyance. “Please, may I have it back?” I ask, putting on my best polite voice.

“Wow, such good manners, Y/N!” he teases, holding the ice cream just out of reach. I make a grab for it, but he pulls it away with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“No, no. I’ll hold it. Go on…” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s a tenderness in the way he looks at me, like this moment — silly as it is — means everything.

I let out a soft sigh, rolling my eyes again, but I lean in, taking a lick of the melting cone as he holds it for me. His gaze is warm, his eyes brimming with affection as he watches me. I feel my cheeks heat up, the sweetness of the ice cream mingling with the sweetness of his attention. I know he loves this — loves the simple act of taking care of me, even in the silliest, most playful ways.

Eventually, he leans back, pulling me against his chest, and I let myself sink into his embrace. His arm wraps around me, fingers brushing through my hair as we settle back into the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. We finish the rest of the show like that, cocooned together, the faint taste of vanilla and caramel lingering on my lips, a memory of this perfect moment.

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[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - period help

You and Matt were laying in his bed together, limbs tangled with one another as your eyes were focused on the movie you were watching. Here and there, matt would make some remark, causing you to rebutted against it — and occasionally your laughs mingling with one another as you joked about the movie.

“No — no, she definitely has feelings for that kid. I mean she literally acts so dumb in front of him and not around anyone else.” you argued, propping yourself up onto one arm as you spoke to matt.

He shrugged, “i don’t know — i don’t see how, i mean she acts dumb around other people too. how can you rule this out to her liking him?” he asked, his hand coming up to poke at your temple. You just rolled your eyes, “I have a feeling.” you retorted back.

He hummed, taking his eyes away from you to train back onto his tv, your own doing the same as you settled back into his side. After a while, you felt the urge to pee — having drank all that water and sodas not long ago.

So you carefully shifted, trying to shimmy your way out of matt’s grasp. But, when you shifted to slide off the bed, you felt the unmistakable feeling of warmth between your legs — and your body froze. Your eyes went wide, looking down to where your body sat on matt’s bed, seeing the stain of red under you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the embarrassment seep into you. ‘Fuck — fuck’

You shifted uncomfortably, hoping that matt wouldn’t notice how ridge your body went. But to no surprise — matt always being attentive of you — you heard his voice behind you, soft and concerned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked, his hand coming out to rest against your shoulder, rubbing small circles. You swallowed, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You nodded slowly, opening and closing your mouth a few times before looking over your shoulder at him. “I just — uh —“ you stammered, your gaze falling to your lap and the bed again. Matt furrowed his brows, moving on the bed to sit beside you. His gaze now looking down to where yours was at, and his face softened.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, his hand now resting on your lower back. “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at yours better. You looked at him, face red with embarrassment. “mhm…you — you aren’t grossed out?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You wanted the world to open and swallow you whole.

He shook his head, his body now moving to stand as he moved in front of you — holding his hand out. “It’s a natural part of you, why would i be grossed out by something you can’t control?” he said, and you head tilted back to look at him before putting your hand into his.

He helped pull you up, the gross feeling still clinging to your skin. “Do you need me to run you a shower baby?” he asked, and you nodded. “yes please.”

He hummed, letting your hand go and walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants, also grabbing a pair of your underwear you seem to have left here. He walked past you, going out the bedroom door and into his bathroom to start the shower for you — making sure it was hot enough.

When he was done, he came back into the room, you body still planted where he left you. Holding out his hand again for you to take, he tugged you toward the bathroom. “Do you need anything else while you’re in the shower? snacks, heating pack?” he asked softly, letting you step into the bathroom as he began to turn away.

“Uh…some of those rice cakes with peanut butter and a heating pack please.” you muttered, and he smiled, walking away toward the kitchen as you closed the bathroom door.

When you were finished with your shower, getting dressed into the clothes matt picked out for you and using a pad (or tampon) from the pack you kept here just in case — you wandered out of the bathroom.

You set the towels in the washing machine before pivoting and walking into matt’s room. The sheets on the bed were already changed and the things you requested were already there waiting for you. You smiled softly, walking over to the bed. You didn’t hear matt’s footsteps behind you, his arms wrapping around you.

You jumped slightly, a giggle then following. “There’s my pretty girl.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing a few light kisses there. You couldn’t help but smile more, letting your head tip back to rest on his shoulder. Matt pressed one last pec to your neck before pulling away, “I got everything you requested and-“ he paused, bringing something around in front of you. “- i figured you might want this guy.” he held mr.wrinkleton up in front of you, swaying him back and fourth.

A big grin spread across your face as your hands reached to grab the stuffed pug, wiggling out of matt’s grip to turn around. “You’re the best, did you know that?” you said, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the small of your back once more. “I mean, i’d do anything to make you comfortable — i hope you know that.” he admitted, and you nodded in understanding.

“So — want to get back into bed now?” he asked, already detaching himself and going to his bed. You gave him a look that already spoke for itself, walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.

Once you were situated, you turned your head to matt, holding his stuffed pug close to your chest. “I do want one more thing though.” you said, and matt’s eye brow raised slightly. “Yeah? what’s that?”

You smiled, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over his slowly. “Lots and lots of cuddles.”

© strnilolover

[7nuh]

CW 𓂃 Yandere!Mr. Silvair, loss of limbs, loss of limbs, general violence, confinement

Mr. Silvair is very interesting to me because he rejects you, but I can definitely see him eventually adoring you like a cute little unruly pet that doesn't know any better.

What made you so interesting to him in the first place is your desperate struggle to hold on to your humanity. Out of all of the unfortunate idiots who made their way here, you survived the longest with your sanity in tact. It's so impressive that Mr. Silvair actually thinks you have a chance of making it back with your mind in one piece.

A part of him wished you had stayed in his lab for longer so he could pick you apart in closer detail, but he knew that would lead him nowhere. What Mr. Silvair needed was progress— for your sanity to deteriorate.

And the change is drastic. You were once a trembling good-for-nothing that would have likely died in two days without Mr. Crawling's help, but now you bite. Now you can twist limbs and tear torsos apart with your bare hands. Now you roam these hallways as the predator searching for prey, and, soon, you'll become another one of the many bloodthirsty residents here.

Not that Mr. Silvair would allow it to get to that point, though, as he proceeds to restrain and detain you in one of his many cells. Why would he allow the perfect test subject to slip away from his fingers so easily? As a token of your short-lived friendship, he even went out of his way and gave you a clean cell! He also arranged occasional visits from Mr. Chopped (but never Mr. Crawling) whenever you stayed docile long enough on the operating table. Nevermind your many escape attempts and increasing hostility, you'll understand soon enough.

In there, you're safe and that's all that matters. It's your temporary abode away while you 'rehabilitate', a safe space where you can't hurt anyone or yourself. You used to be so bothered by the lack of limbs, but you've stopped resisting. He thinks you're starting to learn how inconvenient it is to be in this helpless state— how futile resistance is. You're starting to behave.

Mr. Silvair observes that you now like getting headpats these days. Maybe a few kisses here and there to remind you of your long lost affection for him. Mr. Silvair can't accurately assess whether you hate it or not, though. What happened to the good old days when you used to run to his door for safety whenever you got chased down by something much larger than you? Now you hate this place when it used to be your only space of rest and respite.

As a special treat, he brings you interesting knick knacks that should remind you of your human life. But really, it's a special treat for him because he enjoys watching you pretend it's not making you miserable to be reminded of your past life. Either way, you'll take any positive attention you get from him, no matter how condescending, over the long hours on that wretched table. You can bark and hiss all you want but it doesn't change the fact that you crave any sense of normalcy, even if it comes in the form of his twisted affection for you.

It's cute, almost. Mr. Silvair enjoys being relied upon by something that was once so terrifying. He enjoys reducing you and chipping away at your autonomy, from the physical to the mental. He's at least self-aware enough to acknowledge that it's no longer a research project to him, but a perverse achievement to have you like this.

As interesting as it was to watch your descent into madness, Mr. Silvair wants to break you apart and be the one who puts you back together. It really doesn't matter how many times he has to break your limbs until you've learnt your lesson.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed’s Initial Intentions regarding Stede

Thank you so much for your attention to the poll. The consensus is it’s complicated - and I sort of agree - although I’m swayed towards Fascination alone.

This is my interpretation…

Stede causes Ed to access hidden or denied parts of himself before they’ve even met. And it causes a change in Ed’s behaviour. Ed’s come across many rich or aristocratic folks to rob whom he would see killed without issue; but not someone who’s also a pirate, doing their own original thing, and who seems ambivalent towards Blackbeard’s existence. It’s dopamine to Ed’s novelty-starved brain. It’s not as if Ed carries out a usual raid on the Revenge intending to kill Stede, only to find himself unexpectedly charmed. Ed’s bewitched even before he meets Stede, which means Ed’s entire approach and thought-processes are altered.

Killing Stede and the crew isn’t necessarily off the table should the need arise, but I don’t think it’s actively on in any capacity. There’s no plan, and there’s no ‘uszh’ for once either. Because none of this is uszh. Ed’s engagement with the Revenge is not his normal MO. History’s most brilliant tactician is free-styling. Possibly free-falling.

At the end of 102, Izzy states, ‘Captain says follow that ship.’ And Fang answers ‘Oh really? Why?’ To which Izzy replies, ‘How should I know? The man’s half-insane.’ This conversation shows this isn’t usual strategy. Even Fang asks why - he thought they’d seen the last of those ‘fancyboys’. And Ivan’s sad he didn’t get the chance to murder them, which seems the usual way of things. Plus they’d already had the chance to take or plunder the ship when it ran aground, so this stalking manoeuvre is out of the ordinary. It feels like wasted time and energy.

By the start of episode three, Blackbeard’s ship is a few hundred yards out from the Revenge, and Izzy’s trying to manipulate Ed into usual strategy again by suggesting opening fire, or boarding and throwing the Revenge crew to the sharks. Instead, Ed wants to wait until they make landfall and invite them aboard his ship. Ed’s doing something very different again because he’s unwittingly engaging with an unfamiliar part of himself. And interestingly ‘Go suck eggs in Hell’ appears not to insult, but to somewhat seduce him further. Before meeting Stede, he’s already out of his depth emotionally, and acting out of character, literally.

Despite what Ed would do normally, I just cannot see him landing on the Revenge with the active intent of plundering the ship and / or killing Stede and the crew. His words and actions suggest he’s already through the looking-glass.

So, to The Plan. We have three interesting moments which lead up to its revelation: the clothes swap, ‘careful of your face’ and ‘show me the ways of an aristocrat’.

For me, the three strands, which have no previous connection (other than Ed and Stede playing together), come together in Ed’s mind somewhere between Ed leaving Stede on the lookout, and Ed speaking with Izzy below: a matter of seconds. It reminds me of Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects, pulling together disparate ideas into a cohesive story spontaneously. It’s the mind of a quick-thinker. And it’s in-keeping with Ed’s ability of reacting in the moment to the moment when necessary.

I think Ed also feels forced to perform Blackbeard for Izzy because Izzy’s threatening to leave pushes on that white father-figure emotional bruise. At this stage, Ed doesn’t have enough emotional loyalty to Stede to not voice such a plan; whilst his identity is still too caught in Izzy’s web to let him go - ‘you’re needed here’. For me, the plan to kill Stede is brought about in the moment via an act of psychological coercive control.

But Ed’s also kicking the can down the road. It’s a sort of Faustian bargain. Why not promise Izzy both their souls if it means Ed and Stede can hang out a little longer? Yet on another level Ed’s possibly hoping the debt won’t be called in, such is the complexity of the push and pull here. He’s putting it on the tab, the never-never. He’ll out-manoeuvre it if he decides that’s what he wants. Of course there’s doublethink going on because Ed’s in the middle of an identity crisis.

Ed daren’t admit his real reason for wanting to stay on the Revenge. He can’t comprehend himself even how deep this goes. His look as he turns is one of exhaustion and confusion. Stede Bonnet has him rattled. What started as a trickle of unease and ennui before they’d even met is now a whirlpool of unidentifiable feelings around both Stede, and Ed’s own perception of self.

Ed’s free-falling in liminal space.

[cellophaine]

Chapter IX: GAME

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: The big three – fluff, angst, and smut.

Author's Note: have fun with this chapter :)

GIF Source (I couldn't find the gif when they're at the Cincinnati Masters so let's just pretend that this gif is that gif)

2019. New Rochelle.

You drove the rental through the city, your eyes roaming over the unfamiliar scenery with a languorous curiosity. The sun was hung high, its view unobstructed by the cloudless sky, casting harsh blocks of shadow onto the street. Despite the storm warning, the only indication was the strong gusts of wind that fluttered the tree branches, wrapping the leaves in their grasp and blowing past your car window.

The Authors' Exchange conference was the reason you came to New Rochelle, which would begin tomorrow and expand over three days. Afterwards, you'd drive to Manhattan and stay with Sophie for a week before heading back to San Francisco. The event organizer, Jennifer Roux, had sent you a message earlier in the day detailing the tour of the conference area that would take place after you'd settled in your room.

The GPS's alert chimed for a right turn. You took it and found yourself heading towards a big advertisement that scaled along the side of a building, featuring Art and Tashi prominently. You sucked in a deep breath as old emotions threatened to bubble. You hadn't seen Art in almost ten years, and during all that time, the brief sight of his face, the casual mention of his name were enough to make your heart clench. Affliction, indifference, frustration, and guilt. They all fought one another to claim their place when you tried to place exactly how you felt. But you could never get it right. It was a mess, and it was different every time. But you had moved on. The old feelings were here a moment and gone the next. It dissipated just as you drove past the wallscape advertisement, heading straight for the hotel.

/

Jennifer was much more bubbly in person than in formal emails, which was something you didn't expect. After gushing over your books, she insisted on taking you to your room herself despite your polite refusal. With the keycard in one hand and your suitcase in another, you followed her into the elevator. A voice called out.

"Hold it, please!"

You stepped back as much as you could to make room for the strangers, drawing your suitcase and bag closer to yourself. Hurried footsteps followed by two blurry forms. Jennifer asked for their floor, and the door closed. Your breath caught at the sight of the taller silhouette.

Art.

His name was a noiseless whisper on your lips. His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes widened as they drilled into you. The shock seemed to mask the hurt and guilt behind his features, but you used to know him so intimately, just like how he knew you. Your eyes latched onto his face, tracing the familiar traits that had changed slightly over time. He looked good, even though you didn't want to admit it. His hair was shorter than when you saw him last. His face was sharper and more angular, as if time was an infatuated sculptor obsessed with their subject, barely taking away his youthfulness and leaving his beauty whole. Your eyes locked, its pull intense and undeniable. A movement drew your attention away from him to the little girl he was with. Her hand was clasped in Art's, and the other tugged on yours.

"Hi."

Her timid voice broke the spell. You forced your eyes away and looked down to address her. Her sweet, innocent face beamed as you crouched down to her level. She looked so much like her mother, but you could see traits of Art in her as well. You responded with a smile of your own.

"Hi."

"I like your cherries."

She pointed to the charm on your bag.

"Thank you. Do you want to feel how soft they are?"

She nodded eagerly. You held out your bag, and she carefully petted the synthetic fabric. She squeezed the cherries in her hand, and you took that moment to ask.

"What's your name?"

She looked up at her dad, and only after getting a nod of approval from him did she turn to you.

"Lily."

You smiled warmly at her, even though your insides were punctured with a thousand little cuts.

"What a pretty name."

Her toothy smile deepened as she shyly thanked you. You introduced yourself.

"I like your name."

"Aww, thank you. You're so sweet."

"This is my dad."

Lily let go of the cherries, using both of her hands to tug on Art's attention, which was temporarily reserved for you. She craned her neck to look up when her dad failed to respond.

"Daddy, say hi."

"I–"

You stared at him, wondering if he was going to say anything at all. But you'd never know. The elevator dinged, announcing your floor. You stood up, extending a sweet smile to Lily.

"This is my floor. It was nice to meet you, Lily."

You rushed out with your luggage, and thankfully, Jennifer was right behind you. The elevator doors closed, and you looked away, refusing to make eye contact with Art despite him seeking you out.

Jennifer left quickly after walking you to your room and reminding you of the tour. In the quiet room with only the hums of the air conditioner presented, you sat on the pristine full bed, your luggage forgotten on the side. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel your heart's frantic beat as the memories of what happened years ago came rushing back all at once.

2009. Stanford.

After the fight, nothing was the same. There was a passiveness in your relationship that you were forced to come to terms with. You could keep yourself suspended in denial or cut yourself free of the entanglement and the exertion to keep up the illusion. And you chose the latter. Art rarely called and texted, and even when he did, your conversations were brief and awkward. You took his lack of contact as a sign for you to step back. You ceased all communication with him, even though you still kept his number on your phone. You even went as far as avoiding places you often went to with him. Art seemed to know not to visit the coffee shop. Eventually, by the end of that summer, you fell out. There was no final explosive fight, no goodbyes. Things just ended.

But your mind always strayed back to him. How you'd been a bother, you'd been too much, and this distance was his way of telling you that. The way you completely depended on him for comfort after Christmas made you wince in embarrassment whenever you thought of it. Perhaps he felt like you were a burden. You took that as the truth, and no matter what Art might tell you then, it could never change your mind.

In the two years that followed, unexpected yet welcoming changes were made. Your story was featured in the Stanford paper as the first-place winner's prize, along with a cheque for $500. The exposure caught the eye of your current literary agent, Avery Clarke, who then showed interest in the possibility of representing you. She was from a small agency that focused on finding new writers. After reading through your collections of short stories and much anticipation, she decided to take you on her team. You spread yourself even thinner across school, work and writing. Your book took form in the dimness of late nights, many of which you were accompanied by your roommates. And the hard work paid off. Three publishers expressed their interests, and after a long conversation and lots of consideration, you decided to go with The Paper House. Now, you were waiting in a nervous yet content state while Avery worked on negotiating the finer details of your first book deal. Life and new purposes took over the place Art used to be. But, eventually, he found his way back into your life, as if there was an invisible thread that connected you, and Art was pulling on it.

/

It was early October. You remembered it so clearly. The air was brisk, and the sun was warm, making the perfect weather that you were looking forward to enjoying. Your shift at the cafe ended in the early afternoon. When you came out from the back, Art was there, standing by an empty table near the entrance. He looked good, as he always did. The soft smile that was one of your many weaknesses played with your heartstrings, making your breath catch in your throat. In a polo shirt and jeans, he looked like he came here just for you, and this wasn't a standard smoothie run. His lips parted, and his throat worked to form what he had planned to say into audible words. But you got to it before he did.

"What are you doing here?"

"I … I just wanted to talk to you."

You responded to that with a discontented hum. Art picked up on it.

"I saw that you got a book deal on the newspaper. Congratulations."

You nodded warily.

"Thank you."

"How do you feel about it?"

You shrugged.

"Just fine. It's just a book deal. It's not like it will define my career or anything."

Art laughed softly at your sarcastic response. The low vibrato reminded you of how much you'd missed it.

"Do you want to talk about it over a coffee?"

His tone was casual, yet there was a deliberate calculation as if he was laying down a chess piece and waiting for your next move. You arched an eyebrow at your surroundings.

"Here?"

"No. Somewhere else."

His smile was endearing, and you found yourself persuaded by its charm. You reluctantly agreed. On the stroll to the all-day breakfast bar nearby, the two of you walked side by side but left a distance in between. Your conversation remained formal, but after you'd sat down for some crepes and waffles, it returned to a liveliness that it hadn't been for two years.

"You'll do great. I read your story in the newspaper."

Your eyes on him were nothing if not skeptical.

"You have?"

Not that your win was kept a secret. You just didn't think Art was keeping up with you after your fallout.

"Of course I have. I read the whole thing in one sitting. You have such a brilliant way with words."

You rolled your eyes playfully, and your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

"Thank you. That's just one story, though. How are you so sure of it?"

"I just know."

His smug smirk drew a chuckle from you. Your talk, just like your food, was piquant and smooth. You missed the conversations you had, the casual flirtiness, the way being yourselves felt so easy, like how it was meant to be. You took a sip of your water, watching Art staring back at you from the other side of the table. You tilted your head, enticing him to speak his mind.

"What happened to us?"

"You know damn well what happened."

He chuckled, but when he talked, there was no trace of humour.

"I know. It was my fault. I'm sorry for acting like a dick to you. For what it's worth, I liked you a lot …"

You stayed quiet at the past tense use.

" … and I would be lying if I said my feelings for you had completely gone."

You placed your fork down and levelled him with a guarded stare.

"What are you saying?"

Art took a moment as if he was giving his words great consideration. And after what felt like an agonizing wait, his voice carried the significant weight of his confession.

"I still like you."

You let it settle in. This moment had passed through your head many times before, but you never thought it would come true.

"What about Tashi?"

"There's nothing going on between me and her."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm being honest. The last time we talked was two years ago. During the summer break, actually."

"Why me? Why now?"

"I was a fool messing up what we had."

And there it was. All that you wanted to hear. Art admitted that there was something akin to love between you, before everything that happened. Your hope was a small ember, and all it needed was the tiniest spark to burst into flame. Your eyes locked with an intensity that nestled deep in your bones. Neither of you could look away.

"Are you asking me for a second chance?"

"No. I'm asking you if I deserve one."

"We'll see."

You continued to see Art after that. It was a second chance at being casual friends, and things almost went back to how it was before. But something was different this time.

You remembered not leaving Art's single room until the morning the night you slept with him for the first time. It had to be his room because, by that point, Ashley and Grace were unaware of your involvement with Art. If they did, they would strongly oppose your reunion, as they knew all too well about the aftermath in 2007.

His skin was soft and warm, and the way he draped over your body made you arch against him for more. Art kissed his way down to your body, worshipping every inch of your skin with fervour kisses, drawing whimpers from your clenched lips. As eager as he was to taste you, the man knew how to tease you until you begged for it. And when he did, your body shuddered in response. He worked you up with his tongue, swirling it over and over on your dripping lips and sensitive clit before dipping it into your entrance. Your hips bucked into his mouth, seeking for release, but he had none of that. With one hand over your belly, holding you down, the other was two fingers deep into your cunt; he was relentless. You came quickly after that, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him. You pulled him up to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your hand skimmed down the length of his torso, and when you almost reached what you wanted most at that moment, he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. His flushed face tinged with a little embarrassment, and the stickiness under your calf told you what you needed to know. You shared an awkward laugh, and you pulled his face down so you could kiss his forehead. Pushing him back onto the bed, you took over by crawling down the length of his body until you reached his leaking cock. You touched him with tenderness, and it didn't take much coaxing and sucking until his cock became hard again. Art was gentle and took his time with you, slowly working you up to your climax with his thickness pushing all the way in and out. In the final moments, your bodies worked in tandem; your hips were pressed flush against each other. The fervorous thrusts, the barely contained moans and the creaky sound of his twin bed helped create an obscene sound in the small room. You came just moments before he did. Afterwards, as you basked in the afterglow and the sweat of your bodies, you chuckled to yourself.

"If we did this two years ago, we wouldn't have broken up at all."

That drew a laugh out of him. You found yourself falling for Art again. He felt the same. Your lives were better with the other in it, and that was enough. You didn't put a label on your relationship, but you mutually agreed that you were exclusively seeing each other. The ever-evading title wasn't a cause for concern, especially now that Art hadn't talked to either Tashi or Patrick in a while. You were surprised when you found out about the latter but didn't inquire further. All you cared about was Art, and how good it felt to have him back.

2010. Mason, Ohio.

Art had been on a good streak during the Cincinnati Masters tour. He was heading to the next rounds with ease. And you were there to cheer him on for every match. You graduated with honours back in May, and now that your first book was on its way to the production stage, your life finally felt like it was under your control. The water was still and peaceful, but you should have known better than to blindly believe that nothing could disturb it. The ripple came in with shoulder-length hair and a slim body, the object of your deeply rooted self-contempt, of the haunting idea that you weren't good enough for Art despite telling yourself that you weren't the same person anymore. You had changed.

But some things were harder to forget and forgive.

You were watching Art and his coach practicing from the outside of the fence when Tashi came in. When you noticed her, she waved, her languid pace undisturbed, as if she was in control of everything and everyone around her. Helplessness surged as you thought about how Tashi was too close to Art for your own comfort. You put on a smile, hoping that it didn't look strained.

"Hey Tashi."

"Hey. It's nice to see you again."

"You, too. How have you been?"

"Oh, uh, I've taken some time off tennis to recover."

You thought it was strange how Tashi seemed to think of herself as a tennis player first and a normal person second. But since she mentioned that, you asked.

"When can I see you back in court?"

Tashi went quiet at that. She briefly looked down at her shoes before answering.

"I'm not sure yet."

There was a kind of pensive sadness in her eyes, and you found the Tashi in front of you now were miles away from the Tashi you often watched on the tennis court a few years ago. Your heart broke for her. Tennis seemed to be her whole life, and from the sound of her answer, it was now something that would always be out of reach.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were here to compete as well."

"No, I'm not. I'm just Katerina's hitting partner. She's the one who's competing."

Tashi looked over to Art and waved at him. You craned your neck to see that Art had seen her as well, his hand lowered from reciprocating her. She then turned to you.

"Anyway, I'm here because they told me that Art was here. And I wanted to talk to him."

You nodded and looked at your watch.

"I think he'll be done soon."

His practice ended five minutes later. You walked to him, and your innate need to stake your claim compelled you to put on a show. You pulled Art into a hug despite the playful protest he put on because of his sweaty shirt, and when you pulled away, you kissed his cheek and whispered.

"Looks like you guys need to catch up. I'll leave for the restaurant and get us a table. I'll see you there?"

"See you there."

You left the court, but not before looking back to see them talking. You turned away as old insecurities threatened to resurface.

/

After that day, Tashi sat in the audience for Art's matches. You knew because she often opted for the bottom row while you went for the higher view. During Art's semi-final, you couldn't be there as you had a meeting with Avery and The Paper House in Norwood. You made it to the court as the match had ended; some people were waiting around for Art's signature and photos. You weaved your way into the court and stopped dead at the entrance. Even though they were only talking, your jealousy and insecurities coloured it into something else. They looked good together. Her height almost matched his. The way Art listened to Tashi, his attention was fully wrapped in every syllable she uttered and hand gestures she made. You stayed quiet for most of the ride back to the hotel, even though you should've put on a smile, a show, anything because Art made it to the final. Later that night, during dinner, the weight of your thoughts had become so unbearable that you surrendered yourself to its whim. You didn't even look away from your plate when you spoke.

"It's nice to see Tashi doing so well."

"Yeah, it is. She had a tough time after her injury."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"She told me."

"Oh, right."

You fell into silence again. What Art had to say next drew your attention away from the dinner that you had no appetite for.

"I'm thinking of asking her to be my assistant coach."

You angled your head to look at him fully. Apprehension filled your tone.

"Why?"

"I think … she can make me a better player."

"But you're already great. You're in the final. You've beaten so many guys to get here."

"I want to be better than great."

You leaned back on your chair.

"And you think Tashi can help you with that?"

"Yes, she gave me some helpful tips after the match. She really watched the way I play and gave me corrections and they were things I didn't even notice."

You looked away from Art, your voice verged on bitterness with sarcasm as its coat.

"Right. To me it sounds like you want to spend more time with her."

"We were friends."

"Just like how you and I are friends?"

"That's unfair. It's different with us. We're seeing each other."

"But we're not exactly dating, are we? You're not my boyfriend, and I'm not your girlfriend."

"Isn't that what we both agreed on? That we would take it slow?"

You didn't like it, but he was right. Your answer was only a whisper.

"Yes."

"I guess we can both agree on that, then."

Dinner ended in an uncomfortable silence. It stretched on as you ignored Art on your walk back to the room. Tension brewed and bubbled, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded. You dropped your bag on the desk with a heavy thud, and Art couldn't stand your deliberate shun anymore.

"Could you please tell me what I did wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong."

You shrugged, pretending to be busy with unloading your bag.

"Can we not do this, please? Can we just celebrate my win tonight?"

"You can celebrate with Tashi."

Art was taken aback by your words if his brief silence was an indication.

"Why would you say that?"

"Go ahead, and call her. You have my permission."

He touched your arm, which was still moving as if you suddenly needed to empty everything.

"Please, stop. Can you please look at me?"

You jerked your arm away from his touch and whirled around to face him.

"Be honest with yourself. Don't you want to spend more time with Tashi? Don't you wish that she was here right now, in my place?"

"Is this because I talked to her? You can't possibly condemn me for that."

"Yes, I can! You basically ignored me when she came around three years ago after her break up with Patrick, who was your best friend, by the way. Sorry if I'm still sensitive about it."

Art stepped back as you leaned onto the table. It felt nice and awful at the same time, being able to say what you'd thought about.

"Tashi's just looking out for me. She sees who I can become, and I can become so much better."

"What about me? What about what I think? I think you're great already."

Art's face was flushed with a simmering anger.

"If I'm so great, why have I never won a game against a nobody?"

It took you a moment for it to click in. He was talking about Patrick. It renewed the anger inside of you.

"For fuck's sake! Is that all you guys talk about? Fucking tennis?"

"It's what I do."

"You know she's just using you to get back to tennis, right? It's all she's ever talked about."

"It's what we're both passionate about."

Art's willful ignorance irked you, and you exploded.

"Can't you see it? She wants to get back out there as a player and she can't and it's making her miserable. One day, you'll realize she has never seen you more than a mean to live through."

He pointed an accusing finger at you, and you felt like you were pinned down under his gaze.

"That's cruel, and you know it."

"It's the truth."

Despite the nonchalance in your tone, your voice said otherwise. You didn't even realize the tears that had run down your cheeks. Art's red-rimmed eyes stared back at you. His jaw ticked, working to put the thoughts in his head into words. And they cut deeper than a knife.

"This relationship will never work if you can't trust me."

"I'm sorry that I have trust issues. It's not like you've never given me any reasons to doubt you, right?"

"Are you talking about Tashi again?"

"Of course I am. She's always been a problem to us."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is."

Your name formed on his lips, a beautiful sound in the gravel of his voice.

"I love you."

The argument that poised on your lips held itself in place. You felt like the air in your lungs was sucked out of you in the three syllables that Art uttered. The world slowed, and you could hear the thunderous beat of your heart. If this was a perfect world, you would be over the moon. You would kiss him until neither of you could breathe and whisper those words back to him, and everything would be fine. But this was the real world, and you were a creature of pragmatism and self-destruction. Your voice shook, knowing that this would be the end of you and Art.

"Do you really love me for me, or do you love me because Tashi wasn't there?"

"How could you say that?"

"Let's be honest with ourselves. You know it, and I know it. You've always loved Tashi more. For as long as she is around, I will always be second. And I really, really, don't want to feel that way again."

Art shook his head. You closed the distance in between and held Art's face in your hand. You caressed his jaw, smudging the wetness on his cheek and whispered.

"You can love more than one person, Art. I just don't want to be put second to someone else. I don't want to wait around for love and, approval and affection. I'm tired of having to beg for it, like I did with my parents."

Art held onto your wrist, squeezing it softly.

"Please don't leave me."

With an equally shaky voice, you forced yourself to say it.

"I need you to make up your mind. Or else, I will do it for you."

"I can't."

"I know."

The finality of your situation settled in, and deep down, you knew that it was for the best. You wouldn't be able to support Art like Tashi would. Tennis was everything to Tashi, and you, on the contrary, were only an outsider looking in. She would be able to help Art achieve his professional goals. What would a writer like you have anything to offer to an athlete like him?

"Can you hold me until I fall asleep, please?"

You nodded, kissing his forehead. You settled in the softness of the bed, with his head on your chest. He slept soundly next to you while you were wide awake. Morning came, and you quietly packed your stuff and left. No note, no goodbye. There was nothing else you could say that could change the situation. Even though you blocked his number, you still looked out for news of him. You convinced yourself that you were okay with your decision. You were selfish; you couldn't share. You'd rather have none than half of him. In the end, you were unable to come to a compromise. You left Art, knowing that he loved you, too, and that somewhat soothed the ache that seemed to be a permanent attachment to your heart.

The news of his engagement to Tashi was everywhere in 2011. Your heart shattered all over again. Even though it caused you so much pain, you still tried to be happy for him. You truly loved him with every fibre of your being. But from then on, you avoided news from Art, hoping the physical and virtual distance could heal you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

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[yandere-sins]

I also had another random thought about being Konig's platonic darling and Ghost's romantic darling at the same time!

In a lot of fics, darlings are mostly seen as rabbit or caged birds right? I personally think that kortac operator!reader is a swan. Why? Swans glide gracefully, but that's on the surface. They're paddling madly under the water. That's her! Being an operator means that darling shows excellence, but doesn't show her struggles to achieve that position. Also, doesn't have the privilege of opening up because that is a privilege reserved for the rookies. Operators can't do that. In Kortac, darling doesn't have the privilege about opening up about Konig. I believe that all readers are beautiful, so that, plus looking perfect in the surface, radiate swan energy.

And Ghost, being an extremely sharp man with good instincts can see that she's "paddling madly under the water" despite the perfect exterior. Maybe this is what attracted him to her?

A little scenario came to mind! I hope you don't mind me adding on to this ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Ain't you tired?" a deep, gravelly voice called out to you from behind. You flinched, all your training gone the second either Ghost or König were around, and you'd know his accent from anywhere. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted him hidden in the dark shadows along the wall near you, leisurely leaning against the metal while raking his eyes up and down your body.

It wasn't like you needed to fear him. What you needed was to pay attention to the meeting happening in front of you, although you had to admit you had long tuned out the voices explaining new adaptions to the handbook on how to behave with fellow operators. For a while, you had been watching König, his hulking form a few rows in front of you, other, lower-ranking soldiers separating you just like you wanted. He kept shifting his weight, stealing glances back at you, making sure you were still there.

Of course, you were. You were tired, not disobedient.

"You're not supposed to be here," you mumbled back, your sentence containing the slightest hint of a question even though the fact remained. He wasn't a KorTac operator; he didn't need to take part in a meeting with them. "And you should be sleepin'. Can see your eye bags from a mile away."

"Charming..." you sighed. "You came here just to tell me that?"

"Nah. Just lookin' out for my darlin'."

You took a deep breath, widening your stance as if to put up a stronger barrier. Naturally, König's head snapped around, checking why you were moving. Still, his focus was so sharply on you that he completely missed the ghost hiding in the shadows. König was obviously annoyed about the standing arrangements, rank never suiting him whenever he had to be a professional while in the same room with you. His neck stretched, making him even taller (as if he didn't already surpass all the other soldiers), yet, when you shrugged at him, he resigned himself to listening to the lecture. Was he disappointed there was no danger? One, where he could swoop you up and carry you to safety?

"I'm not tired, thanks," you finally replied to Ghost's question, speaking slowly and calmly to not raise suspicion by letting your voice ring through the rows of operators. If König—who you were sure by now this meeting was about as someone must have ratted him out for how he was behaving around you—wasn't enough of a stress factor, you really didn't need an additional hen to hoover over you.

"No foolin' me. I know he kept you on your toes last night. Always does, that bastard. The thrill of the chase, yeh? But won't you get tired from being the mouse?"

"It's not ideal," you offered, a small acknowledgment of the truth. "But he's my colonel, and I respect him. Can we leave it at that?"

Ghost sighed, and you felt his presence step up to your back rather than hear it. Uncanny, that's what he was. That was the reason your skin turned into goosebumps as he stood behind you, shrouded in darkness like an apparition rather than a fellow human being.

"Sure, darlin'. You can have me bed if you need to sleep for once. You know where to find me."

And then, as silently as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving you with that offer. Biting your lip, you hated how tempting it was. How secure it felt to put your trust in him. You knew better than that; knew he was on the opposite side of the spectrum of the horror you were living.

Ghost made it very clear that he wanted you, perhaps in the same way as König, just... carnally. König wanted his version of you, to be with you, to obsess over you, love you. Take care of you although you were perfectly able to do so yourself. The job was dangerous, sure, but in his version, you were a pitiful, debilitated thing to care for. One that needed him almost as much as he seemed to need you. But Ghost... he wanted more than that.

He wanted to win you over, wanted to mold and bend you as he pleased, wanted you feisty yet helpless to his demands. He wanted you screaming and crying, but he wanted you to come to him despite the eery promises of discomfort he emitted. There was more possessiveness in his eyes every time you saw him, more lust, more desire. Perhaps it was a form of love, too, but it was hard to understand either man obsessing with you.

"[Name]?"

Shit, the meeting.

"Y-Yeah?" you replied quickly, not wanting to be caught. König towered in front of you, his body blacking out the low-hanging lights he had to duck underneath.

"Who were you talking with? I saw your mouth move."

"N-No one, Colonel! I was repeating what I was learning."

"Oh... I see. Good. That's good."

You noticed his eyes prying away from you, scanning the area behind you briefly. "Let's go then. You didn't have your breakfast yet, did you?"

Lifting his arm behind your back, it hovered there. Not close enough to touch, even if you knew he was edging his fingertips over your shoulders, but it urged you forward in a gesture so natural, no one batted an eye. You sighed as you picked up a pace that König had very little problem keeping up with, but you knew that not all suspicions were quelled just with your verbal confirmation. He'd be even more careful and attentive—which was hard, considering he was overbearing on the good days.

And suddenly, Ghost's invitation felt very tempting again.

[southerngothicchic]

we're too young to be lonely (part one)

King!Steve Harrington x reader (18+)

This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year that I felt could be improved upon 💖

The King of Hawkins High had made a habit of climbing through your bedroom window every Friday night. His visits started out innocent enough, with you both commiserating about the past week of school and maybe sharing a kiss or two.

As weeks went on, and as both of your crushes grew, sweet kisses turned into steamy makeouts. He would murmur how pretty you were into your neck as he tried not to leave any hickies, though he desperately wanted to.

He wanted everyone to know you were his, but wasn't sure if you wanted to belong to him, outside of your bedroom.

It was a typical Friday night, with you laying in bed, waiting for Steve. The radio hums lowly while the dim light from your bedside lamp illuminates the room. You keep glancing up from the latest issue of Seventeen every few minutes to check the digital display of the clock on your nightstand. He's usually here by now, you think, as you're beginning to think he's not going to show.

If something changed he would've let you know, right? A horrible thought then enters your mind making you wonder if he's lost interest in you and found someone else to spend the night with. You glance at the window again before shaking your head.

After all the nights you spent together, you knew he wouldn't do that to you. At this point, you knew him better than his 'best friends' or anyone else at school did. He was different when he was with you, so sweet and attentive, you almost forgot about his famous persona.

As you wrack your brain for answers, you hear a familiar tapping on your window. You look over and see his silhouette crouching outside the glass.

With a relieved smile, you get up and cross the short distance to let him in.

He greets you with a smile and a soft, "Hi," before he climbs into your room. You feel his arms around your waist as you quietly close the window. You turn, in his arms, to face him, still with a smile on your lips.

"I was starting to think you stood me up," you say, now with a slight pout.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, nuzzling his nose against yours. "My parents came home early so I had to wait til they went to bed to sneak out."

"Oh," you breathe, as he ghosts his lips over yours.

"Did you really think I'd miss a chance to see my best girl?"

You sigh his name, already under his spell in record time.

"I missed you," he whispers before finally kissing you.

You eagerly kiss him back, wanting to make up for all the lost time spent not kissing the cutest boy you'd ever seen.

"I missed you, too," you reply, breathless with your fingers gripping the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"I can tell," he softly laughs. "Maybe we should extend these visits to more than just one night."

You glance up at him, with a hopeful shimmer in your eyes, that makes him weak.

"You really like me that much?" You ask, earning another soft laugh from him.

"I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't," he replies, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. "You're, like, the only real friend I have."

"Is that how you see me, just as a friend?"

His eyes widen in panic as he stumbles through his reply: "No, I mean, at first, yeah, but not now. I like you more than that."

His thumb tenderly brushes your cheek as a goofy smile forms on your lips.

"So you like me like me, then?"

"I thought it was obvious, but yeah, I do," he also smiles, as he leans in to kiss you again.

You sigh his name against his lips as he guides you towards your bed. He smoothly slips off his Nike's before laying you back onto your sheets, all without breaking the kiss. His denim clad thighs press against your bare legs, making you feel extra vulnerable. He subtly spreads your legs with his knee, so he can nestle his hips between them. You gasp into a kiss when he grinds teasingly.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you liked that..." he pants, between kisses. "You wanna feel more of me?"

You nod, while whimpering a soft, "Yes."

"Okay, honey," he smiles, gently taking your hand and placing it between your bodies, against his growing bulge.

"Want you to feel what you do to me..." he breathes, as he nips at the tender skin under your jaw.

You palm him through his jeans before squeezing slightly. He moans into your neck as his hips chase your touch.

Moments like these still feel so surreal to you. Having Steve Harrington in your room was one thing, but touching him like this was something else entirely. Feeling him through denim wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You pull him into another kiss while your hand moves to unbutton his jeans. You feel him shudder when your fingertips graze his skin. You tease him through his briefs at first, before slipping your hand under the waistband. He whines against your lips as he feels your fingers wrap around him.

"Mmm, fuck..." he breathes, while you slowly stroke him. "I've dreamt about this."

"Have you?" You ask, between kisses.

"Yeah, been wanting you to touch me like this," he whispers, desperately trying to keep his voice down. "Its all I can think about most days."

You smile into his kiss, feeling truly desirable for the first time in your life.

"You're all I think about most days," you quietly reveal before kissing him again, muffling another moan.

He pulls away, and sighs your name, already looking completely wrecked.

"If you keep on, I'm gonna-" he warns, before your hand stills. "And I don't want to yet, not like this."

"What are you...?"

"I wanna go all the way with you," he whispers, gazing into your eyes.

"Steve..." you breathe, his name the easiest thing for your mind to latch onto, as his admission has you reeling.

"Only if you want to," he adds. "I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do."

You notice how he's looking at you, with such sincerity and adoration, it's almost overwhelming.

"I want to," you softly reply, holding his gaze.

He smiles. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Just... not here, not with my parents down the hall..."

"You could always come over to my house," he offers, leaning in close. "My parents should be going out of town again soon and we'd have the place to ourselves."

"I actually have a better idea," you reply, with a smile. "I just remembered mine are going to a dinner party tomorrow night and will most likely be gone for most of the night."

"That is much better," he agrees, his lips brushing yours. "We can have our first, proper date then."

He feels you smile against his lips before you whisper, "Yeah, we can."

He pulls away, for a moment, so he can admire the sight below him.

"I really like this," he compliments, lightly dragging his finger along the collar of your silky pajama top.

"I was hoping you would," you quietly reply, as you watch his eyes darkening.

"Is it okay if I...?" He then asks, his fingers already gripping the top button.

Your eyes meet his as you nod. "I want you to feel more of me, too."

He leans forward again, pressing his lips to yours, as his skilled fingers unbutton your top. The lightest scratch of his nails against your stomach makes you shiver. He pulls away slightly to marvel at you again, and suddenly you feel too exposed. The look on his face instantly reassures you, as it's one of awe.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, leaning in close.

He nuzzles his nose along your jaw, before trailing kisses down your neck. You pull your hand from his jeans and curl it into his hair as he kisses his way to your collarbone. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as he places wet kisses against your breast. His mouth has your back arching into him, as his teeth barely scrape your nipple. He flicks his tongue over it and you have to keep yourself from screaming.

He's presses himself against you, unable to keep from grinding, as you feel how hard and big he is.

"Fuck, I can't wait til tomorrow night..." he pants, words almost muffled by your skin. "...When I can kiss you like this while I'm buried deep inside you."

You whimper his name and he thinks it's his new favorite sound.

"You still want that too, right?" He asks, glancing up at you, his amber eyes alight with desire.

You nod, as your pretty, pink lips part with a gasp. He tries to hide his smirk before raising his head so he can kiss you again.

The way he kisses you is so deep and romantic, its unlike anything you've ever felt before. Your thoughts melt into a dreamy haze, as the only constants are how you feel about him and how he's making you feel. It's a moment seemingly frozen in time that you never want to leave.

"Can I feel more of you?" He breathily asks, with his hand hovering over the waistband of your matching silky shorts.

You hesitate, trying to catch your breath as you gaze up at him. Your hand grips his sleeve as you struggle to answer him.

"It's okay if it's too much. We don't have to -" He comforts before you interrupt him.

"I want you to touch me. I've dreamed about this, too," you admit, as a familiar heat rises to your cheeks.

"I want you to tell me about all the filthy dreams you've had about me," he smiles, as his fingertips lightly glide across your stomach.

"I might, someday," you smile, in return, pulling him into another kiss.

You feel him smiling against your lips before deepening the kiss.

He slips his hand into your shorts, and presses the pads of his fingers against the thin cotton of your panties. He softly moans when he feels how wet you are.

"You must really like me," he whispers, as he teases you with his finger.

"I do," you breathe.

"Want me to make you feel good?" He asks, pressing harder.

"Y-Yes, Steve, please..." You almost don't recognize your own voice as you've never heard it sound so desperate.

"Fuck, I'll do anything for you, honey," he replies, his own voice ragged as he slips his hand into your panties.

He slowly eases his finger inside you while his mouth hovers over yours. He whimpers over how tight you are as he begins to pump it in and out. Your eyes are already rolling back at how different and good he feels compared to you.

"Look at me, honey," he quietly commands, nudging the tip of your nose with his. "Want you to keep your eyes on me when we're like this."

You nod, obediently, as your hands claw at his sweatshirt again. His kisses are a little rougher as he adds another finger. He's already losing himself in you, in wanting to make you feel so good, you'll never want anyone else.

You body trembles underneath him, as you fight to kiss him back with the same intensity. You whine his name repeatedly against his lips and he can't help the smug look on his face as he says, "I know it's good now, but imagine how much better it'll feel when I'm actually fucking you."

You finally break eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. His lips are instantly on yours, quieting your continued cries of his name. Your fingers now curl around his wrist as his movements slow. He pulls away just enough, and once your eyes meet his, you smile so warmly at him. He leans in again and covers your face in kisses.

"You really are my best girl," he laments, gazing at you with total adoration.

It mirrors how he was looking at you earlier, but there's something new in his eyes. It's a hint of something more, something deeper that he can't find the words for yet.

He stays with you for the next few hours, as you just lay holding each other, before drifting off to sleep. You wake him up sometime before sunrise and tell him he should get home. He whines, tightening his arms around you before getting up.

You stand next to your window, with his arms around you again as he gives you a lingering goodbye kiss.

After watching his taillights fade into the early morning air, you climb back into bed with a smile. You close your eyes, your thoughts consumed with being his girl, before sleep overtakes you again.

[elikajinnie]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙅𝙖𝙠𝙚

pairing: sim jake x f!reader ✿ warnings: fluff, kisses, suggestive content, just jake being jake ✿ synopsis: jake watching you do your makeup ✿ a/n: i was doing my makeup today while listening to daydream... and this just spawned, took me about 5 min. Like you can NOT tell me this man is not a great kisser.

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes following you as you move around the room, gathering your makeup. He’s got that look on his face—the one where he’s all soft smiles and quiet admiration, like he’s forgotten everything else just watching you. You’re focused, picking out the right shades and brushes.

You sit in front of the mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup, with Jake lounging on the edge of your bed behind you. His gaze is a constant warmth on your back, his attention never straying as he watches you get ready. You catch his reflection in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, completely engrossed in watching every move you make.

He lets out a low chuckle when you finally glance over and catch him staring. “What?” he says, smiling, feigning innocence as if he hasn’t been studying you with those warm eyes for the past few minutes.

“You’re staring,” you say, rolling your eyes with a smile. “Am I that interesting?”

“More than interesting,” he replies, his voice soft and a little rough.

The words are simple, but it makes your cheeks heat up.

When you finally lift the tube of lipstick, you notice how his gaze sharpens, honing in on the way you tilt your head slightly, how your lips part just so as you begin to apply it. You can almost feel the way his eyes follow each slow swipe of color, his head tilting a fraction as if he’s studying each detail with the precision of an artist. You notice him licking his lips, that subtle pull of his bottom lip between his teeth, as he watches you swipe the color along your own lips.

You can’t resist a smile as you meet his gaze in the mirror. “Jake,” you tease, “I’m never gonna finish if you keep staring like that.”

He grins, not even trying to pretend he’s not completely captivated. “I can’t help it. You look… well, it’s hard to look away.”

His words make your cheeks warm, but you do your best to stay focused as you finish up. “I’ll be done in a sec, and then I’ll come over. Just let me finish this, okay?”

Jake chuckles, low and easy, but you notice he doesn’t back off at all. Instead, he stands up and takes a few slow steps toward you, his hands sliding casually into his pockets as he watches you finish up. He’s close enough now that you catch the glint in his eye, the way his gaze dips to your lips every few seconds as you press them together to blend the lipstick.

“Seriously,” you murmur with a playful smile, turning to face him, “you’re worse than a distraction.”

Before you can say more, his hands find your waist, and he pulls you gently to your feet and into his arms. He’s warm, solid, and smiling in that way that tells you he’s enjoying every second of this. You gasp in surprise as he settles down in the chair himself, effortlessly guiding you onto his lap as his hands hold you close. The laughter in his eyes softens as he looks up at you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your waist.

“Jake!” you exclaim with a halfhearted pout, though you make no move to leave his lap. “You’re gonna ruin all my hard work.”

He just grins, undeterred. “So? You can always put more on.” His tone is soft and playful, but his eyes are dark, his voice dropping to a lower register that sends a thrill through you. “But I don’t think I can wait another second without kissing you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already leaning in, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips find yours. The kiss is soft, but it doesn’t stay that way for long—there’s a familiar urgency to it as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, letting it linger until you forget about your makeup entirely. His thumb brushes along your cheek, and you lean into him, your fingers sliding up to curl in his hair, pulling him even closer.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him. There’s a distinct smear of your lipstick marking his mouth, bright against his skin.

“Now look what what happened,” you tease, tracing a finger along the faint lipstick mark left on his lips.

Jake chuckles, entirely unbothered as he shrugs. “I don’t mind if it means I get to kiss you.” He leans in again, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing over your cheek as he continues in a low murmur, “Besides, I think I wear this color well.”

You let out a laugh, playfully wiping at his lips even though he makes no move to stop you. “I’m holding you responsible if I have to redo all of this, you know.”

“I’ll buy you another tube,” he says easily, his arms wrapping around you a little tighter. He pulls you closer, his lips moving to your jaw, trailing kisses down to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Or… I could just keep you here with me. Not sure I’m ready to let you go anywhere yet.”

You sigh, but it’s playful, knowing full well you’re not going to resist him. “If you keep this up, I’m really going to have to start all over.”

“Fine by me,” he whispers against your skin, the soft brush of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. “Gives me more time to admire you.” He leans in, his lips meeting yours in another kiss, smearing even more of your lipstick as the kiss deepens.

You can't help but smile against his lips, the kiss is intense, a perfect blend of gentleness and urgency.

As you pull back, slightly breathless, Jake offers you the tube with a playful smile. "Here, put it on again," he says.

You take the lipstick, a little hazy from the passion of the moment, and begin to reapply it, your movements slow. Jake watches you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

Once you've finished, he reaches out and gently grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His eyes meet yours, his lips finding yours once more.

When you pull back for a breath, Jake doesn't let you go. Instead, he trails kisses down your neck, his lips moving from your jawline to the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

Jake's hands roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, as if memorizing every inch of you.

You can feel his breath against your neck, hot and heavy, as he takes the lipstick from your hand and holds it out to you once more. "One more time baby," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to make sure it's perfect."

You giggle, a little hazy from the passion of the moment, and take the lipstick, reapplying it.

When you finish, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This time, he whines softly against your lips, his breath warm and intoxicating. The sound of his whining sends a shiver down your spine, adding an extra layer of intensity to the kiss. You moan softly, your body responding to his every touch.

"Mhm.. I could kiss you all day," he murmurs, his voice husky.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Wait, let's fix that lipstick again," he says, pointing at your lips with a playful grin.

You giggle, and take the lipstick again, reapplying it.

Jake watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, and whispers, "You know, I could watch you do that all day. It's like a work of art."

As you finish reapplying the lipstick, he reaches out and gently cups your face in his hands. "Now, let's continue where we left off," he said.

After reapplying your lipstick for what feels like the fifth time, you finally manage to pull yourself away from Jake, though it’s no easy feat. His hands had been gentle but persistent, holding you close each time you tried to move. Your lips are still tingling, slightly sore, and you can feel the warmth lingering on your cheeks and neck from where his hands had cupped your face.

The clock catches your eye, and you wince—realizing you’re way past the time you were supposed to leave.

Jake, on the other hand, looks anything but concerned about the time - utterly content, with a dazed, love-drunk expression on his face. His hair is tousled, and he’s still catching his breath, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes that are filled with a lazy, affectionate warmth. Smears of lipstick cover his face, dotting his cheeks, chin, and jawline in soft red marks that match the color of your lips. You even see a faint outline of your lips on his neck, just above the collar of his now slightly wrinkled white shirt. The pristine fabric is no longer spotless; your lipstick has left faded, pinkish stains around the collar and down the top button.

Jake reaches up and touches one of the lipstick smudges on his cheek, as if to savor the traces of you left behind, before letting it fall back to his side. He lets out a contented, slightly drowsy hum, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he mumbles, almost to himself, “You’re… so beautiful…”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, feeling your own lips twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to stay focused. “Jake, I’m actually going to be so late,” you murmur, gathering your things, but even as you say it, you can’t resist glancing back at him again, taking in the mess you’ve left him in.

He looks completely kiss-drunk, staring at you with that same sleepy, adoring expression, like he’s half lost in a daydream. “Late?” he murmurs, sounding only mildly aware of what you’re saying. His voice is low, lazy, and rough around the edges, the kind of tone that makes you almost forget your hurry all over again. He reaches out a hand toward you, his fingertips brushing the air as if he can’t bear for you to leave.

“Mm-hmm,” he continues, his eyes trailing over you, taking in every little detail as if he’s memorizing it. “The most beautiful girlfriend… yeah… so beautiful…”

His words are soft, murmured almost to himself as he gazes at you, clearly more than a little love-struck. His gaze drops to your lips, and he grins as he sees the lipstick you’ve reapplied, his eyes darkening slightly with that familiar gleam. It’s enough to make you hesitate at the door, knowing exactly where that look can lead.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you grab your bag and finally tear yourself away, giving him a playful shake of the head as you do. His gaze never leaves you, that lazy, dreamy smile still playing on his lips, as if he’s too wrapped up in his thoughts of you to notice anything else. Just before you leave, you give him one last glance, taking in the mess of lipstick marks, the warmth in his eyes, and that soft, sleepy grin.

[atalldrinkofcaprisun]

Don’t Wait For Me After I’m Gone (pt. 2)

silco x gn!reader - he didn’t die AU - tw: canon compliant violence, drug use - 18+

howdy!!! reposted and edited again! I’m having trouble with all of the links so sorry they’re not super functional right now. But anyways, I MISS MY WIFE TAILS!!

also on ao3 xx masterlist

The screaming was the worst part. You had been posted outside of The Doctor’s underground laboratory/cave for three hours now, under the orders not to enter unless you wanted to be sedated until the procedure was over.

When the Scientist arrived at the factory, he had started work immediately. The bullets nimbly extracted and quickly stitched, his hand feebly squeezing your own when he could. You had pressed kisses to his damp temples and pushed hair out of his face, back into his rumpled style. He’d even notice sometimes but it was clear he was in agony.

“It is good you kept that with you,” The Doctor nodded his head towards the injector lying cracked on the floor towards the far wall. You had thrown it off as soon as it had emptied, “He would have been unreachable if you had not administered the medicinal serum. It gave him just enough to hold on.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?” You asked, trying to give that little flame of hope in your chest something to fuel itself.

“He will survive, yes. Survival at least.” the bandaged man replied cryptically before returning his full attention to Silco, “I suggest making plans to move him to safety. Your opponents will be hunting for you soon if they haven’t started already.” He’d put a hand on your shoulder, “I know where they will not find you.”

Shortly afterwards, you had sprinted all the way back to The Last Drop. Exhausted and shaking, you’d only managed a stammering, “Silco. He’s- the warehouse…” before promptly passing out into Ran’s arms. You’d woken up in your bed, apparently you had only been out about 20 minutes.

Now, here you stood, arms crossed and leaning against a rough stone wall. Your nails dug into your skin, trying to center yourself. You couldn’t leave, not when he was in pain. Jinx had been permitted in. Whatever had transpired between Jinx and The Doctor had created a new trust. You had wanted to protest but when Jinx set Silco down on the examination table and sat quietly in a chair in the corner, her eyes not moving from Silco, you had surrendered. Jinx needed to know her father wasn’t going to be one more thing to haunt her. You could keep watch this time.

Sevika was elsewhere getting her arm fixed once again, and keeping all of the intelligence open for signs of what had been happening in Piltover. She’d headed back to The Drop. Running Zaun directly or alone had never been something you wanted. Especially now, with the love of your life still in danger of being lost forever, and your child being the cause on top of whatever had been done to her-

There came another string of rambles, ranging from terror to agony to anger. Occasionally you would hear The Doctor muttering. You could feel the wave of emotions settle between your shoulders, winding up the muscles like snakes tensing to bite. You needed a distraction.

Threats were going to be coming from all sides. Jinx had officially crossed the carefully toed line of impertinent interference that Silco had perfected. You didn’t know what the aftermath of the missile had been, and it didn’t take a genius to guess. A part of you didn’t care. Fuck the Topsiders for needing to be brought to the battlefield. Still, you couldn’t ignore the stiffness setting in your arms and neck, your hands clenched into fists as tears began to resurface.

Another moan of pain, this one low and mournful… your name again. You covered your ears and tried to fight the urge to bust through the door.

Fuck it. You’d rather be sedated then hear one more second of this without being able to help. Hands flew to the door handle of their own accord, but were met with the empty air as the door opened first.

Jinx’s pink eyes bore into your own, flat, “Doc say you can come in. Apparently he’s though the worst. Dad’ll- be okay.” She sounded completely drained.

You gathered Jinx in a tight hug, wanting to offer any sort of comfort you could, “He’s going to understand. We’ve been so worried about you, Blue.”

“I killed him.” She mumbled into your shoulder, “I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you pulled back to look in her eyes, your hands pushing her bangs off of her forehead to finally get a good look. She was so pale now, worse than before, almost spectral. Her freckles and dark makeup only making her appear more sickly, she was smeared with dirt and blood and crusted tears. Her eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but their pale blue had been consumed by the eery magenta of Shimmer. “He knows how much you’re struggling. He isn’t dead. It was an accident. He knows that.”

Jinx didn’t look convinced, only lifting your arms off of her and pushing past into the fissures beyond, “I just need to be alone.“ She turned before she crossed behind the faint lantern glow, “You know where to find me,” and then she was gone.

You waited, letting the compulsion to run after her and comfort her dissolve for a later time. If anything would be able to get through to Jinx it would be Silco himself. In order for him to get the chance, however, you needed to make sure Silco would stay alive. Jinx was smart, and knew when and how to lay low. She would be alright for a few hours. With a deep breath and you headed into the attached cavern.

“Doctor, Is he-“ your gaze mimed fixated on the disheveled and miserable man strapped to the gurney. At the sound of your voice Silco’s eyes landed on you, relief washing over his expression the moment he processed what he was seeing. “Thank Jannah, Sil,” you sighed, stepping and crossing the space. Your hand fell into his, fitting perfectly into his palm, warm and alive and responsive. With a smile you took your free hand and pushed the strands of charcoal and ash hair out of his face, “Hey there, handsome.” You beamed.

The once bright orange iris, now matching his daughter’s pink hue, was scanning along your features, relief washing over the face you had come to love more than you had ever thought possible. His pale blue eye was just as intently looking at you, but his eyelid hung heavy with exhaustion, “What’s a creature like you,” his voice was strained and low, rumbling out of his chest more than his throat, “doing in a place like this?”

Your mind played the first time he had said that to you as you grinned, “That line is still too cheesy to work.”

“Better than the look you gave me when I said it then.” He hummed as your hand moved from his hair to brush his cheek, “Did I ever tell you it was Jinx’s idea?”

“To try and hit on me after saving my life or?” You laughed lightly.

“To tell you,” he wheezed for a second as a flare of purple raced up his skin and into his damaged iris, “ah, how pretty you looked.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and the pain seemed to become just a little less.

“So you settled on calling me a creature?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Is now the time for such, frivolous things?” The Doctor’s tone was annoyed as he cut in. He started undoing the straps holding Silco down, and he motioned for you to help him.

You looked at the scientist with one brow raised as Silco sighed, “I’ve nearly died today. It makes a man think about things… differently,” his gaze didn’t move from your face, like he was studying it for the first time. You were used to his staring habit, but this felt different. Maybe it was the drugs, “so beautiful,” he muttered so low, he probably hadn’t even noticed he’d said it.

“Shut up, old man,” you smiled, “Save your breath.”

The Doctor moved to your side of the table, batting you away as he began to unstrap his arm and head. Which was only fair since you hadn’t even started to undo the buckle. Your hand slipped away from Silco’s and you immediately missed the feeling. The anxiety that boiled in your stomach was vicious and your skin seemed to itch with the need to continue to make sure Silco was truly alive and real, on the mend and going to survive. Once the kingpin was free, the Doctor took his pulse, then gently helped him rise to a sitting position. His face contorted with the pain but eased as he breathed through it. At last, Doc looked towards you and nodded, giving his permission, you could fully take in your paramour.

Silco’s left arm was protectively hugged around his bandage wrapped torso, his smoldering eye still pulsing pink as was it’s seafoam counterpart. His hair was haphazard and his makeup smeared away long ago, the ashen skin of his scar visible in large smudges. You wrapped your arms around him as gently as you could manage, still causing him to hiss ever so slightly. His heartbeat thumped away under your ear, protected in his rib cage, fast and a little irregular. His smell was tainted with blood and sweat but it was still him. His free arm pulled you closer, his nose resting on top of your head. Together you breathed. Just for a moment that to you, felt like the exact eternity you needed to find your voice.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, “I promise to try and not make it a habit, my lovely.”

You only burrowed further into his arms in reply. Your home was here. Safely by Silco’s side, in his arms, breathing and basking in the gift of having more time. Just as the tension had begun to ease from your shoulders Silco spoke again, “Where is Jinx? Is she alright?”

You met his gaze, “She’s… upset. She didn’t mean to kill you. I think she’s headed back to her lab. I wanted to go with her but…”

“But you needed to make sure I would be alright first.” He gently finished and ran a hand through your hair, “Thank you for saving me. Now we’re officially even.” He let his fingertips stroke your cheek, “We need to get to Jinx. I need to tell her I forgive her.”

“You won’t be able to walk on your own yet, old friend.” The Doctor spoke up again from his desk across the room, apparently he had returned to his more important projects, “Your body is still processing the serum. You don’t have your daughter’s vitality.”

Silco frowned over at the old scientist, “I think I can manage. And anyways,” he looked down at you, “I won’t be alone.”

You nodded, and stepped out of his embrace to help him down and onto his feet. As he touched the stone floor however, his legs seemed to buckle and he fell onto you heavily with a grunt of pain. You caught him and let him get his grip on the edge of the gurney. His teeth grinding as he pulled himself upwards, “Sil? Are you-?”

“It’s fine.” The ever stubborn Eye of Zaun commanded. The Doctor and you shared a quick look.

You knew he was lying but he had more pressing concerns than his own comfort at the moment, “Can you?” he gestured vaguely around himself. Asking for help was still not something he was completely comfortable with, but you knew what he meant.

You shifted around him, so one of your arms was around his midsection, the other was holding his hand as his own arm swept over your shoulders. Jinx’s Lab and The Last Drop were a bit of a walk away. The Doctor, grumbling all the while, retrieved a cane from some depths of his caverns and gave you what doses Silco might need if he took a sudden turn. With measured steps you began to lead Silco to the door. Just before you crossed the threshold, Silco tugged and stopped, “Thank you, Doctor. My family owes you a great debt.”

A stiff and matter of fact “I know.” was the only reply he received.

Silco pressed a kiss to your temple and together you set off.

[toosweetwildflowers]

TURNED

Part One

Astarion x Reader

..............

I haven't written fic in a while but this damn vampire has me in a choke hold. This story asks the question: what if asention wasn't the only way to be together forever. I may add more to this if people like it. Hope you enjoy!

.............

Sweat and blood mingled in the atmosphere of the underground dungen. Your eyes were heavy and stinging as you strained to look forward. Your arms lay heavily by your side, your back flush againt a large cold pillar. It was as though you were going through shock, vision blurred, sound around you muffled, vertigo sweeping in; and perhaps you were. In your immediate vision you could see  Shadowheart. Her visage so close you sware you could read the concern and fear like a tapestry were your vision up to the task. She seemed to be speaking, shouting even, although to your reduced senses it appeared inconsequential.

"She's bleeding out. None of the spells I've tried are doing anything. She's going to die."

Another muffled voice, maybe Karlach you couldn't be sure, attempted to calm the worried cleric. You saw Shadowheart close her eyes and steady her breathing. She touched your arm and began chanting a spell under her breath.

You tried to piece together what had occurred. You recall fighting your way through Cazadors palace. Facing off against the bastard as he prepared to sacrifice thousands for his profane assention. You remember Astarion, his resolve unmoved, his desire in that moment to ascended and become untouchable. The way he looked into your eyes when he said he would be better than Cazador. The swell of pride within you when he made that choice. Bringing your attention back to the present you swept your gaze across the battlefield searching for the pale elf. You could faintly make out Astarion's white curls somewhere behind Shadowheart. Blinking several times you saw him knelt down next to what appeared to be Cazador's dead body. While you couldn't see his face, the way his body contorted and heaved it was evident he was crying. In that moment you forgot about your drowsy state and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. You made an attempt to stand up and that's when you noticed. Blood. Lot and lots of blood. All over your hands.

You must have given Cazador's swarm quite the fight. You chuckled to yourself only to find agonizing pain in both your chest and abdomen. Your eyes  drifted to your abdomen and that's when you finally put things together.

The blood was yours. It saturated your robes and pooled on the ground beneath you. Despite shodowheart's continued effects to heal you, you knew you were fading. You expected to feel lost, scared, even abandoned in this moment but truly you felt peace. You looked around to your companions and felt loved. No matter what happened to you, you convinced yourself they would go on to continue healing and live the lives they never had the chance to. You smiled to yourself, evidently loosing your touch to reality as you continued to bleed out. You felt Karlach grab your shoulder.

"Don't give into it soldier. We'll get you patched up. You just stay with me OK." Her words feigned optimism and bravery but the look on her face gave way to fear.

You suddenly felt shadowheart's warm hands cupping your face taking the weight off of your now heavy head. She moved your head from side to side as if the movement alone would give her any new information about your condition. Then she spoke, weather it was intended for you to hear or a communication to Karlach you weren't sure, but what she said caused you to react.

"We've waited long enough. Where the hell is Astarion we need to get her back to camp."

The words cut through your faded state momentarily. No you couldn't, you wouldn't interrupt Astarion's moment. He had waited literal centuries for the opportunity to be truly and honestly free. He had finally let himself cry and release some of that pent up trauma.

You were fine surely.

Karlach released your shoulder and stood from her crouched position at your side. She had her sights on Astarion but before she could take more then a step you mustered enough strength to grab onto her leg.

"No. Don't. Please." Your words came out ragged and you could taste the blood seeping it's way down your throat.

Karlach met your gaze with empathy. She knew, in her way, exactly what you were trying to avoid. She held your gaze and took your hand in hers.

"I'm sorry". She spoke softly before turning her head and shouting Astarions name.

Before you could so much as blink he was by your side. His face creased in worry, sparce tears still trailing down his cheeks. You raised a hand to wipe them away. You'd never get over the soft yet cold feel of his skin. Like poreceline or marble it was perfect. He was perfect. When he spoke it came out rushed and strained as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. He looked to Shadowheart almost pleading but he kept his tone sharp.

"What happened to her. Can you heal her? Please."

Shadowheart shook her head slightly, evidently drained from the magic she had been conjuring to keep you breathing.

"I'm sorry Astarion I've done everything I can. God's I'm so so sorry". She stood and welcomed Karlach's embrace as tears formed in the edges of her eyes.

Astarion shook his head several times unwilling to believe it. You took his hand in yours and with the other you lifted his chin to meet your eyes.

"I'm so proud of you my love". You soke softly unable to give your voice much more of your energy. He tried to look away as more tears brimmed his eyes but you brought his chin back to face you and continued. "You faced him and you won. You're free after all this time. Hold on to that. No matter what happens to me I.."

Astarion interrupted you, tears falling down his face no longer able to keep them at bay. "I can't lose you. I won't lose the first person I've ever really cared about."

His voice became harsher almost angry. He couldn't accept this not after everything you two had gone through. "I can't. I won't."

You grabbed his face in your hands giving everything you had left. " I love you Astarion. You are so so loved."

And that was it. The world around you began to fade to black as you fell to your side no longer able to hold him. You watched, as if in slow motion, Astarion grip your shoulders to avoid you hitting your head. He looked around frantically. In that moment he had to make a choice. He closed his eyes and laid you gently on the floor on your back. Then he stood and let out a sigh before turning around and making his way towards Cazador's limp body.

You watched through almost blackened vision as a Astarion knelt beside the body and without hesitation chomped down on it'd neck. He was drinking from Cazador. But why?

You tried to remember what Astarion once said about the differences between spawn and mature vampires. One simply had to drink the blood of the one who turned them to become a full vampire. Not an easy task if that someone was your abusive master. You considered Astarion's motivations. Sure he would have more power being a true vampire but he still wouldn't be able to walk in the sun nor enjoy the food of the living. Gods the only thing it would bring besides power would of course be the ability to turn others...

Then it hit you, he was doing it for you. To turn you. To save you. You wanted to tell him he didn't need to. That you weren't worth saving, not if it ment he would live with the guilt of turning you.

You tried to speak as he approached you but the words would not form. He knelt beside you and you could see blood dripping from his chin. No not just blood, but tears too. He lifted your upper body into his arms and cradled you as he sat with his back to the piller. You felt his cold touch as he wiped strands of hair off your sweat and blood ridden face. He did so with the gentlest touch as if time had frozen and he could hold you like this forever. When he spoke he didn't take his eyes off yours.

"Go. Get everyone out of here". He motioned towards Cazador's staff with the hand he had been carresing your face with. He meant to release the spawn in those cages. Set them free into the underdark. Gods you were so proud of him. Karlach and Shadowheart both hesitated for a moment.

"Go! I'll get her out of here. I.....promise". That must have been enough to convince them as they swiftly made their way out of the large chamber.

Now it was just you and Astarion. He cradled your head and brought his lips towards your neck. He kissed your pulse point gently and whispered in your ear.

"I'm sorry my love but i am a selfish bastard. I won't lose you."

He turned your head to face him leaving the ghost of a kiss on your lips before returning his attention back to your neck seeking your weakened pulse. "This is going to hurt. Like no pain you've ever known." For a moment he closed his eyes and you could tell he was reliving his own tortous turning at the hands of Cazador.

He opened his eyes again before he spoke. A fire in them. A defiance. "But you won't be alone. I'll be here. I'll get you through it. I won't leave you darling".

You felt his icy breath on your neck right before the sting of his fangs as they broke skin.

For a moment it felt like any other feeding, an initial pain leading to pleasure even arousal, but that swiftly changed. You felt excruciating pain beginning in your heart, as if your very stomach acid was being injected directly into your aorta. You bagen to wither in Astarion's arms, unconsciously and reflexively trying to escape the burning sensation. He held you close keeping his mouth on you still. The burning only intensified as your body began spazzing without your consent. It was exactly as Astarion had described. You tried to convince your body you were safe, that he was right there. The man you loved was right there and once the venum had spred you truly would be able to love him for eternity.

You felt Astarion release your neck and as he turned your face to his you tried to convey gratitude. Then you wanted to plead with him not to watch. Then all you could feel, all you could think was pain.

[yoonmetogether]

Part 1 – Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap

summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit.

warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude)

minors pls dni

wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l part i. play nice I interlude: strangers l part ii. I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood. 

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him. 

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off. 

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him. 

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.” 

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.” 

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens. 

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, unfamiliar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it hurt, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look. 

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men. 

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal scar that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you. Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression. 

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly. 

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized. 

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

His adam’s apple bobs. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Oh. So he wants to play games. And he’s a fucking coward.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice to me either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs, thinking to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” 

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat this morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really, hating the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of fresh water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your dress. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine, eyes flying open and feet moving on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take your coat. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes you with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?” 

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it. 

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your heart pounds in your ears when Lee slides his beady eyes to you, fingernails digging into your sweaty palms.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the lighters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you unravel the plastic. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The wrapper you crumple and the lighter you flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing of the metal and plastic on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly gruffs out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, and the confidence it gave you. And that scares you. 

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened. 

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you're practically dehydrated, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads might not entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

.

.

.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

masterlist

p.s. does anyone want to be my beta reader? I'd love the feedback and you'd get to read everything early!! lmk

taglist:

@viankiss @taegijns @polarnightmyg @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos

[archive-of-wax]

I don't even know where to start with my love for this post, I've literally been rereading it over and over all day. This is by far the best interpretation of Trudy's parenting I've ever seen. It really captures the complex family dynamic we see onscreen with the twins, both with their mother and each other.

It's easy to focus on Trudy's evident abuse of Bo in the opening scene, but I think this is the first time I've seen anyone really analyse her interaction with Vincent. It's also one of the few times I've seen anyone speculate about his perspective or thoughts regarding his mother and her parenting, and I think you're spot on. Vincent wasn't showered with unconditional love while Bo got constant abuse. He was smothered with overbearing attentiveness that probably caused more issues than it fixed. Helicopter parenting certainly lines up with many traits fans have inferred from Vincent's portrayal, such as perfectionism, overdependence, and an anxious disposition.

I also felt that his perception of their mother wasn't as idolised as Bo's, and would go as far as to say that during his and Bo's kitchen convo I felt a hint of...exhasperation? Even weariness. At Trudy, at Bo's idolised view of her that he seemingly can't reject out loud, maybe even the purpose of their murderplot. I always imagined his feelings towards her to be something like 'I love you but please stop I'm begging you, why are you like this, why can't you be better for us', and I feel like part of that frustration came from knowing that none of the hovering and fussing was ever really for him as much as it was for her to feel better about herself, so any conversation about his feelings on the matter would have been pointless. If not immediately dismissed it would have just caused an argument, and this family has enough of those already, right? No need to rock the boat.

I have also never seen that newspaper clipping about Victor?! Could I ask where you found it? It completely throws loads of backstory theories out the window. Your version makes the lead-up to the murderplot make so much sense too. Bo and Vincent didn't just wake up one day and choose violence for no reason, but rather the pressure slowly built up: their father passing, the mill shutting down and all the jobs disappearing, then the town's inhabitants leaving, and lastly their mother's death. I imagine they found themselves alone in their now dead hometown, feeling washed up, lacking the practical and social skills to set off on their own (Vincent in particular), grieving the most pivotal person in their lives, and fit to burst with rage at the world. With their minds already cracked from their upbringing, and nothing to lose, it's easy to imagine how one thing led to another...Maybe some lost jackass gets a little too cocky with Bo at his mechanic shop, a fight ensues, Bo doesn't quite pull his punches like he knows he should and accidentally kills him. And then all it takes is a 'Yes, I know this is bad, Vince, but listen. You know how you've been having trouble sculpting like mama used to...?'

Anyway yes all this is to say this was a fantastic read! Thank you for sharing your thoughts, hope you don't mind me going on a mad ramble on your post haha. (Also could I ask you to link that study of a similar conjoined case? I've been looking for a real life counterpart to the twins' condition and could not find one for the life of me!)

Trudy refills Vincent’s cereal. He’s 2-3 years old and blind in one eye. He doesn’t need more cereal, he just needs his bowl rotated so he can see the cereal that was left over on his blind side. Not that we necessarily know how Vincent communicates without speech, but she hardly gives him time to answer her question about more before she’s refilling the bowl anyways. This is her approach to parenting her boys in general.

There’s no interest in fixing their actual issues. Rather than help Vincent to see what he already has in front of him, she’d rather add more, inadvertently also adding more onto the side he can’t see. At some point, this would just add to the issue. Overcompensation into overwhelm. Bo is brought in for breakfast kicking and screaming and it’s sort of evident why Trudy puts all her love into Vincent to the point of it being suffocating and unhelpful. Sure it could be a simple case of favoritism, but with the aspect of overcompensation specifically, it seems that she wants to balance her guilt over failing to parent one of her sons by pouring more effort than necessary into Vincent. Rather than giving the extra attention to Bo, it’s refilling a non-empty bowl of cereal.

I don’t think that necessarily mean she loves Vincent more. She finds him easier to parent. Fill the bowl whether or not he needs it because that’s easier than unpacking where Bo’s massive emotional outbursts are coming from. It seems more like love-bombing than genuine kindness. He’s “being such a good boy today,” but the implied part is an unsaid comparison to Bo. As twins, and conjoined twins at that, they’re not independent of each other. Vincent’s behavior exists only to contrast Bo’s, from her perspective. “Fix” his needs, and she can fix them both. Hence, preferring just to duct tape Bo to a chair than help him any.

Then Vincent grows up to become her protege, starting in his childhood but lasting until even after Trudy’s death. Over thirty years have passed since they were toddlers in those high chairs, but Bo gives a hint about why Vince got that ‘special privilege’ to not be as physically abused. “She always said that your talent would make up for what God took away from you.” Only, God didn’t take anything. Victor Sinclair doing illegal, unqualified surgery on his babies is why Vincent lost half of his face. Trudy only uses God’s name and religion as a shield for her own guilt about how her boys turned out. But it’s more likely she included Vincent in the wax business because she again, was dumping affection onto him over and over as her strategy.

Otherwise there isn’t as much favoritism between the boys. In their childhood photos, they both play piano, both play pool and baseball, both get to sit at the table with their birthday cake (without highchairs or bindings) and they play on the floor together. It's not entirely divisive between them, though it’s still obvious from which brother she’s slapping across his face and which brother she’s love-bombing which she’d prefer to deal with. Just not which she actually cares for more. Vincent wasn’t somehow spared from abuse in a house like the Sinclair household.

Interestingly, when Bo tells the story of Trudy and Victor, he mentions that once the Doc died, they were alone. Except, there’s at least one version of a prop newspaper stating that Trudy created a wax memorial for Victor. So this is just a false version of events most likely. Sure it could be that a decision changed, but there’s also the fact that, in the guns and ammo store, there’s a sign that says “Trudy’s Town or Wax.” And Bo tells Vincent, “We almost finished what mama started.” She’s also much older than the Trudy we see in the family photos and articles (even with the amount of cigarettes that woman smoked.) Ambrose is confirmed to have been abandoned for a decade, but to be turned into wax, Trudy would’ve had to die sometime between the abandonment of Ambrose and the present. Else she would’ve been properly buried most likely. The plan to fill Ambrose was hers, it’s just Bo that suggests using real humans (according to his apology to Vincent, he takes credit for the idea anyhow.)

Which makes her boys at least in their mid twenties when she died. In an older version of the script, Bo had killed her and Victor, but knowing it would put them all in foster care, that doesn’t quite make sense unless they were older. So the order of events is, Doc dying, the sugar mill closing, Trudy planning to reimagine Ambrose, and then dying herself.

The reason that’s important is because it’s emblematic of just how much pressure she was putting on both of her boys. And that’s not love. With two mentally ill, abused sons, (maybe three, since Lord only knows how they treated Lester once he came along,) that’s just manipulation. Victor and Trudy aren’t cartoon super villains for being bad to their boys. But when you can’t even just rotate a bowl slightly for your half blind little one, it’s shallow. Trudy has her cigarettes right in the boys faces in the opening and in most of the photos. Smoking was in one study linked to about 1/3rd of conjoined pregnancies, and in a similar case of conjoinment to the boys, one of the twins had lost an eye and had a prosthetic, but with minimal scarring because of the surgery being done in an actual legal hospital. It’s not about God taking anything, or about which is a little monsted and which is a very good boy- it’s about Trudy and Victor both messing up from the very beginning and causing the boys losses, then refusing to take accountability for it. Or, in the symbolic sense, to just do the right thing and turn a damn bowl of cheerios towards your blind kid.

[shantechni]

Related to your post about Mikey "accidentally delivering low blows when stressed" (Aug 2023) would you hc that it's related to his emotional awareness of his family? Like when he blamed Splinter for letting them go up to the surface, he would know Splinter was already questioning his decision to let them do that, or he calls Splinter out on not being affected by his mutated appearance (when Splinter looks uncomfortable being seen by humans/Shredder)? Basically, what are your further thoughts on it? Has he done this elsewhere?

The post in question for the curious cats

This compilation video as well because my big brain remembered me doing that and it's related to this topic and I meant to do a part 2

Oh, that behavior is 100% related to Mikey's emotional awareness. I'd hardly even call it a headcanon, it's just canon lol.

After not only botching their first fight above ground but failing to stop two kidnappings on their watch, the boys immediately start playing the blame game by pointing out each other's rash decisions and dumb mistakes that led to such an outcome. Obviously, the idea of Splinter's decision being yet another mistake of the sorts was hanging somewhere in the air waiting to be grabbed at, but no one readily went for it as something that needed to be acknowledged as mistake. That's why it's so fascinating to see the writers establish Mikey right out of the gate as someone who isn't afraid to comment on Splinter's decisions and his emotional state when he's making those decisions.

He was certainly aware of their father's doubts concerning them going above ground for the first time because a comment like that doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Granted, this instance was him speaking his mind in the heat of the moment and only realizing how much his words would sting after the fact (especially since they're the ones who convinced Splinter to send them off with their begging), but this becoming a continuous trend of his throughout the series further proves the fact of him being more aware of things than a lot of people pegged him to be.

In Mikey Gets Shellacne, his remark about Splinter telling him not to fret about his appearance when he could hardly bring himself to do the same can be interpreted as a more apparent example of him knowing more than he lets on. It's made rather obvious from the start of the series that Splinter wasn't keen on roaming the streets looking like a giant rat, but that's more of a show and tell deal where both the audience and the characters are left on their own to pick up on such an important yet minor detail. Splinter never tells anyone about his insecurity, nor does anyone in the series talk about it amongst each other, so a moment like this can be a bit jarring when it's framed as Mikey calling out Splinter's opinion on his own appearance.

Though the intent of his comment was to simply call Splinter old, the underlying insult is there and Mikey regrets saying something like that to their father of all people.

Other than letting his frustrations get the better of him and unintentionally plucking at Splinter's insecurities, Mikey is greatly in tuned with the emotions of those around him and will usually pick up on any changes rather quickly. Take these two moments with, funnily enough, him and Splinter near the start of Serpent Hunt.

I previously posted the first clip as a funny little observation, but the scene is more intriguing than my jestful sentence made it out to be. Mikey's attention is split between hanging his goofy pieces of artwork on the wooden boards and listening to April as she announces how the restaurant is starting to look like a makeshift home. It's not until he turns around to joke with her about his drawings that he finally has Splinter in his sights, and his attention evidently begins to drift to Splinter as April is responding to his question (you can literally see his head following Splinter's movements while April is speaking to him😭). And just look at how taken aback he is by Splinter's melancholic expression being on full display:

While Splinter answers Mikey by stating that he's concerned for Casey, Leo and Raph because they've been gone for a while, it's pretty obvious that's not all he's bothered by, and him not being subtle about his troubled mind like usual had enough flags raising in Mikey's mind for him to hop up from his spot. Once the scene transitions to the second clip, Mikey lingers with Splinter in the front of the restaurant while April ventures to the back in search of Donnie to check on his progress with the retro-mutagen, as well as to see if the others made it back yet. Mikey and Splinter decide to follow April as soon as Donnie utters Karai's name, and Mikey is visibly bracing himself for another look of heartbreak on their father's visage:

Splinter moments aside, Mikey recognizes when something is up with his brothers and friends, as well as whether or not he should step in. Of course the prominent moments of him demonstrating his ability to calm Leatherhead and Raph down count among the times when he steps in, but the times when he chooses not to step in shouldn't be understated either.

Take the pre-intro scene in The Cosmic Ocean for example, when April breaks the silence and questions where Leo ran off to. We understand where Raph is coming from when he says that it can't be healthy for Leo to confide in a simulated version of Splinter since it could just make him miss their father more than ever, but Mikey suddenly pops from his laid back position off-screen and joins the conversation:

He's knows as well as Raph that speaking with a simulation of their father isn't exactly ideal, but he also knows that Leo is used to coming home to confide in Splinter for advice whenever he feels his confidence as a leader beginning to waver. The whole gang knows all of this, but once again, Mikey's the only one to verbalize it. Sometimes people need to hear something so obvious outloud to really understand or remember its importance, and Mikey seems to know that best.

I don't really need to mention how his emotional awareness extends far beyond simply knowing when someone is down, or when he is or isn't in a position to help them, but it makes for a decent epilogue to this analysis so-

Him being the least (read: least) temperamental of his brothers automatically puts him in the position of a mediator when there's tension in the group, and it's common knowledge that he'd often go out of his way to ease that tension in his own ways. He sometimes makes jokes, both corny and intelligent, just to get everyone's minds off of the heaviness of a situation, even if that moment of reprieve only lasts for a minute. He attempts to break up fights before they get too far, which sometimes doesn't work because they're a stubborn bunch of turtles (literally the entire first five minutes of New Girl in Town lol), but his efforts are commendable and genuine.

He's exceptionally conscious of changes in the atmosphere and a swing in someone's mood, which could go hand in hand with his sixth sense for weird Kraang stuff if you think about it. But all of this comes together to paint an undeniably clear image of Mikey having a great amount of emotional awareness, and just all around being one of the most emotionally intelligent characters of the series.

[morgana-larkin]

Hello, I just finished you got a friend in me part 2 and I was wondering if you could write a part 3 where Alison calls Melissa “mom/momma” or something like this for the first time. Thank you.

Hi anon! I’m very happy that you liked part 2 and then immediately wanted a part 3! I thought this was a really cute idea and wrote it pretty quickly. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all my followers as I passed 300 followers a few days ago! 🥹🫶🏻. I’m almost done Melissa with a breeding kink so should be out tomorrow or the day after.

You Got A Friend In Me - Part 3

Warnings: just a lot of fluff of Melissa and Alison

Words: 5k

“Alright, here's her overnight bag and here’s the key to the house in case you need to get something.” You say as you hand over Alison’s bag and the key to Melissa and she puts it in her car. “Alright Alison, remember to listen to Melissa ok?” You say to Alison and she nods.

“I will mom, I promise.” Alison tells you and you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Ok I’ll see you both on Sunday when I get back.” You tell them.

“Alright we’ll see you then and have a good trip, and I love you.” Melissa tells you and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll try and I love you both!” You tell them before going to your car to go to work who will bring you to the airport. You’re going to a work conference in California for a couple of days and Melissa immediately offered to look after Alison while you were gone.

Melissa and Alison head inside after you leave, Melissa goes to the teachers lounge while Alison goes to hang out with her friends on the play structure.

“So how are you feeling about looking after Alison over the weekend by yourself?” Barb asks Melissa and that catches the trio’s attention.

“Why are you looking after Alison by yourself?” Jacob asks.

“Cause her mom is going to California for a work conference and will be back on Sunday. Now stop eavesdropping.” Melissa says and then turns back to Barb. “I’m pretty nervous but excited at the same time.”

“Well it’s a big thing for you, you’re basically going to be the mom for a weekend.” Barb says to her and Melissa freezes.

“I didn’t think about it that way.” Melissa says before a smile makes its way to her face.

“You seem happy at the thought.”

“Well Y/n trusts me enough to take her child for a whole weekend and basically be her parent for three days.” Melissa explains to Barb. “So kinda happy about that.”

“So what are you going to do with her over the weekend?” Janine asks.

“Well it’s the beginning of April so I was thinking indoor activities, as it’s still a bit chilly out, like bowling or staying at my place and bake cookies.” Melissa says as she has a fond smile on her face. “She also loves to draw and Scooby Doo is her favourite cartoon to watch. So maybe curl up on the couch and watch it with her with some hot chocolate.” Melissa adds.

“Sounds like a fun weekend.” Gregory says.

Melissa is sitting at her desk, doing some grading while her students are working. She can’t help but look slightly up at Alison. Looking at the way she taps her chin with the pencils eraser when she’s thinking, the way she sometimes bites her tongue when writing. Melissa can’t help but think about the way she feels about her, that she’s basically her daughter. She only wishes that she met you both sooner so she could have been there when Alison was born and watch her grow up from the start.

The final bell rings and Melissa makes sure all her kids get picked up before taking Alison’s hand and walking with her to her car. On the way out they run into Barb waiting for her husband to pick her up.

“Hello girls.” Barb tells them.

“Hi Ms. Howard!” Alison says cheerfully. “I’m spending the weekend with Melissa!” She adds on.

“I heard. Are you excited?” Barb asks her.

“Yes! I love spending time with Melissa.” Alison says and Melissa has a huge smile at hearing that.

“Well I hope you both have a good weekend.” Barb says when she sees Gerald pulling up.

“Bye Ms. Howard!”

“Bye Barb, see you on Monday.” Melissa says and then continues the way to her red car. “So kiddo, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make whatever you want.” She asks Alison.

“Oh can you make your spaghetti and meatballs!” Alison suggests and Melissa smiles.

“Why do you always ask for Italian food? I can make non-Italian meals too.” Melissa says while shifting the car into drive and drives out of the parking lot.

“You said whatever I want and I want your spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Alright, I’ll make that then.” Melissa says. The rest of the drive home was filled with Alison telling Melissa all about her day even though she’s her teacher and was there for most of it. “So Alison, do you want to watch tv or help me make dinner?” Melissa asks her as they enter her house.

“Can I help make dinner?” Alison asks with a smile.

“Of course, how about we watch one episode and then we can get started on dinner?” Melissa suggests and Alison nods and then bounces over to the tv. They watch one episode of Scooby Doo and then they go over to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 10 minutes later, Alison is sitting on the counter, rolling the raw meat into balls while Melissa is making the sauce. “How does this taste?” Melissa asks her and gives her a spoon with a bit of the sauce on it.

“That’s good.” Alison tells her after taste testing. “Melissa?”

“Ya hon?”

“Do you have a father?” Alison asks her and Melissa glances at her before going back to the sauce.

“I did, he died a few years ago though.” Melissa replies with. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve asked mom who my father is and she says that she doesn’t know.” Alison tells her with a frown.

“That’s because she doesn’t actually know. You were definitely a surprise for your mom and she loves you very much. It doesn’t matter who helped bring you into the world, who matters is who’s in your life ok?” Melissa tells her and Alison nods.

“Meatballs are done.” Alison tells her and Melissa looks at them and smiles.

“Looks great!” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles proudly.

They both have the spaghetti and meatballs in the dining room.

“What are we doing after?” Alison asks her.

“Hm, I don’t know. What do you want to do after?”

“Can we draw together?” Alison asks her and Melissa nods with a smile.

“Of course, I didn’t get you a colouring set and not have you use it.” Melissa says and Alison smiles.

“Melissa?” Alison suddenly asks and Melissa looks at her. “Why are you so good with me?”

“What do you mean hon?”

“Well when my mom was with that other girl, Kate, she was with her for a year and she never did as much with me as you do.” Alison explains to her.

“Well I don’t know what Kate was thinking, but you deserve to know that you’re just as important to me as your mom is.” Melissa says and Alison nods. “Having trouble cutting that piece of meatball?” Melissa asks after she sees Alison struggling and Alison nods. “Here, let me help you.” Melissa says and takes Alison’s fork and knife and then cuts up the meatball in pieces.

“Thank you.” Alison says then goes back to eating. After they finish eating then they go and draw on the coffee table together. “Are you and my mom going to get married?” Alison asks while drawing some grass.

“I don’t know, it’s a little early to be thinking about that. Your mom and I have only been dating for about 6 months.”

“Well I would like it if you did.”

“You would?” Melissa asks, halting her drawing.

“Ya, I like you as my teacher and I like spending time with you.”

“Well I like spending time with you too hon.” Melissa says to Alison.

“Look what I drew!” Alison exclaims a minute later and shows Melissa the drawing. “There’s me, mom, you, then grandma and grandpa.”

“You drew a family picture…with me included?” Melissa asks and Alison nods with a smile. “You’re so sweet kiddo. Come here.” Melissa says before wrapping Alison up in a hug.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Alison asks after the hug.

“Well I thought we could go to the store and get some ingredients to bake something. Like maybe some cupcakes and decorate them after.”

“Can we make Easter cupcakes? Easter is in a week.”

“Of course we can hon. How about for now, you go and get ready for bed and then we can watch a Scooby Doo movie together. I’ll even make popcorn.” Melissa suggests and Alison’s face lights up, and then runs upstairs to the guest bedroom that Melissa set up for her.

Melissa puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave before going to set up a Scooby Doo movie. Alison comes back 10 minutes later in her pjs and flops down on the couch next to Melissa. She snuggles into Melissa before Melissa starts the movie.

“Comfy kiddo?” Melissa asks with a smile and Alison nods before paying attention to the movie.

Alison ends up falling asleep on Melissa during the second Scooby Doo movie and Melissa gently starts stroking her head. Melissa then carefully lifts her up and carries her to the guest room. She sets her down underneath the covers, tucks her in and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Good night kiddo.” Melissa whispers before getting up and leaving.

Melissa goes downstairs and cleans everything up before going back upstairs and gets ready for bed.

The next morning Melissa is up making pancakes for Alison. Alison wakes up and goes downstairs before Melissa is done with the pancakes.

“Morning kiddo.” Melissa says to her when she sees her entering the kitchen. Alison lets out a yawn before replying back to her.

“Morning Melissa.” She says groggily.

“Did you just wake up hon?” Melissa asks and Alison nods. “Are ya hungry?” Alison nods again. “Well the pancakes are almost done. How about you put the syrup and plates on the table?” Melissa suggests.

“Ok!” Alison says, who perked up at the mention of pancakes.

After breakfast they both get ready to go to the store and get the ingredients for cupcakes and decorating.

“So if you want Easter cupcakes, you want purple, yellow and white sprinkles?” Melissa asks her when they’re looking at food decorations.

“White icing, and yellow and purple sprinkles.” Alison says with a smile.

“Alright, you got it kiddo.” Melissa says as she grabs the items needed. “Now do you want chocolate, vanilla or red velvet cupcakes?” She asks.

“Chocolate!” Alison exclaims and Melissa nods with a smile. “You’re not grabbing the chocolate cupcake mix?” Alison asks as they walk right by it.

“Nope, I’m gonna show you how to make cupcakes from scratch.” Melissa tells her as Alison hops on the front of the cart.

“You and your daughter are very cute together.” Melissa hears and she turns around to see a woman looking at her with a smile.

“Oh thank you but she’s my girlfriend’s daughter.” Melissa tells her.

“Well you’re both still cute together, daughter or not.” The woman tells her and then walks away. Melissa is left stunned before she turns back to Alison who’s looking at where the woman was. Both of them then go back to shopping like it didn’t happen.

“So I think we got everything needed.” Melissa says. “Ready to go back home and start making them?” Melissa asks her excitedly.

“Yes, let’s go make some cupcakes!” Alison exclaims and then runs to a cashier.

“Woah, slow down, I can’t bring the cart that fast, Alison.” Melissa tells her.

“Sorry.” Alison says and waits for Melissa. Alison then gives the items to Melissa who puts it on the belt for the cashier to scan. Alison then helps Melissa put the stuff in her car and then brings the cart to the cart return.

“Alright, hop in kiddo.” Melissa says after opening the door to the backseat. Alison gets in the backseat and Melissa gets in the driver seat before starting the car and driving back to her place.

“I’m so excited!” Alison squeals after they bring the bags into the kitchen.

“Alright, here’s a stool for you to stand on.” Melissa tells her while she puts down a stool that she keeps around for herself for the top shelf. Alison gets on the stool while Melissa gets the cupcake pan out. “Ok kiddo, put one cupcake wrapper in each hole in here.” Melissa instructs Alison after giving her the wrappers. Alison does as instructed while Melissa gets everything out. They then begin making cupcakes from scratch. “Alright now add the chocolate chips and the cocoa powder.” Melissa continues instructing Alison.

“How many chocolate chips?”

“Let’s put about half the bag.” Melissa tells her and Alison nods before pouring the chocolate chips in.

“Can I steal a few?” Alison asks and Melissa nods with a smile.

“Go for it kiddo.”

They continue making the cupcakes after Alison steals a few chocolate chips and hands some over to Melissa for her to eat some as well.

“Alright and now we pour the mix into the cupcake wrappers about halfway.” Melissa tells her and hands her a spoon. As soon as Alison starts putting the mix in the wrappers is when Melissa gets a call. Melissa gets her phone out and sees that you’re calling her. “Hey.” Melissa tells you when she accepts the call.

“Hey Melissa! How are things with you and Alison?” You ask and she immediately wants to video chat with you and you accept it and your face comes into view.

“Hi mom!” Alison exclaims and you can see they’re making something.

“Hi sweetheart! Are you two making something?”

“Yes, Melissa taught me how to make cupcakes from scratch and she let me steal a few chocolate chips.” Alison tells you while she pours some mix into a wrapper.

“Oh wow! Sounds like you’re having a fun time.” You say.

“Ya I am.” Alison says and you see Melissa ruffle up Alison’s hair.

“She’s been a good little helper.” Melissa tells you with a smile.

“After they’re done in the oven, we’re gonna decorate them and it’s going to be Easter themed!” Alison tells you and you open your mouth in shock.

“Oh my god, that’s so cool!” You tell her and Alison goes back to what she was doing. “How was last night?” You ask Melissa and she turns the camera to herself.

“It was good, she helped me make dinner and then she fell asleep while watching Scooby Doo.” Melissa tells you.

“We also drew pictures!” You hear Alison say and Melissa smiles and blushes at that and you wonder what they drew.

“What did you guys draw?” You ask and Melissa flips the camera to Alison’s drawing that was on the fridge.

“She drew a family picture.” Melissa says and you look at the picture and see that Alison also included Melissa in the picture.

“Aww that's cute, I see she included you in it.” You say and she flipped the camera back to herself and you can see she’s smiling and biting her lip while nodding. “Well I’m so happy that you’re close to each other.” You tell her and she smiles at you. “I do have to go but I just wanted to call to check in on you guys.”

“Well thanks for checking in, Alison and I are having fun together.” Melissa tells you. “Wait, are you having fun Alison?” Melissa asks her and Alison turns around.

“Yep!” Alison replies with. “Melissa I’m done with the cupcakes, can I eat the rest of the mix?” Alison asks and Melissa looks at the cupcake wrappers filled with the mix.

“Just put a little more in that one.” Melissa says and points to one. “Then you can eat the batter.” Melissa tells her and Alison nods before adding more of the mix into one and then starts eating the batter.

“Well I’ll let you both go as I have a conference to get too.” You tell her and she nods at you with a smile.

“Well, have fun with that.” She tells you and you chuckle.

“I won’t but thank you.”

“No problem, I love you.” Melissa tells you and you smile at her.

“I love you too.” You say and then Melissa brings the phone over to Alison who has a mouth full of batter. “I love you sweetheart.” You tell her.

“I love you too! Bye mom.” Alison says before putting more batter in her mouth. You disconnect the call after waving to the both of them.

“Alright kiddo, let’s pop these in the oven.” Melissa tells Alison and Alison then gets off the stool. Melissa grabs the cupcakes, pops them in the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes. “Alright now to clean up.” Melissa says to Alison. “Do you mind bringing these to the sink? And putting these dishes in the dishwasher?” Melissa says and hands a few things to Alison who then nods and does what she’s told.

“Melissa, remember that lady from the store, the one who thought you were my mom?” Alison asks her.

“Yes, why?”

“Well it made me think about that, I do see you as a mother figure.” Alison says and Melissa turns and looks at her.

“Really?”

“Ya, I mean you’re always there for me when I need you, and you help my mom take care of me, isn’t that what a mom is supposed to do?” Alison tells her and a couple of tears fall down Melissa’s face.

“I guess so hon. You know I think you’re very smart for an 8 year old.” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles.

After cleaning up and chatting a bit, the timer on the oven goes off and Melissa goes and gets the cupcakes out. After checking that their done, Melissa gets everything set up for Alison to start decorating.

“I can’t get the icing right.” Alison pouts out after trying for the third time.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Melissa says and guides Alison on how to put icing on the cupcakes.

“Thank you!” Alison says and then continues doing the other cupcakes. “How crazy can I go with the sprinkles?” Alison asks Melissa after she’s done with the icing.

“As crazy as you want. Use all of them if you want.” Melissa tells her and Alison’s face lights up.

After drowning the cupcakes with sprinkles, Alison announced that she was done and they both had a couple before putting the rest in the fridge. After they finished eating, they went to the couch and Melissa grabs the deck of cards on the coffee table. Alison watches in amazement how good Melissa is shuffling the deck of cards and Melissa looks at her with an amused smirk.

“Been shuffling decks for years kiddo.” Melissa tells her.

“Will you teach me to shuffle them like you do?” Alison asks her and Melissa smiles at her.

“Sure, it’ll take a lot of practice though.” Melissa responds with and Alison smiles and nods. Melissa deals 7 cards to each of them, they make their matches and then Alison starts the game.

“Do you have any 4’s?” Alison asks.

“Go fish.” Melissa says after a second. “Do you have any 9’s?” Melissa asks after Alison takes a card.

“Yes.” Alison says with a sigh and reluctantly gives her two 9’s. “That was gonna be my next move, ask for 9’s.” Alison tells her and Melissa smiles.

They end up playing go fish for a couple hours before switching games.

“Ok this game is called crazy eights.” Melissa says to Alison. She then goes on to explain how to play and they do a few practice rounds.

“Ok I think I might have the hang of it now.” Alison says after the 4th practice round.

“Want to play for real now?” Melissa asks her and Alison nods. “Ok.” Melissa says and then she deals the cards.

They play a couple games of crazy eights before Melissa gets up to go heat up some leftovers for dinner. During dinner, Alison is looking a bit disappointed while eating.

“Something wrong kiddo?” Melissa asks her.

“My mom is coming back tomorrow.” Alison says and Melissa looks at her confused.

“Ya she is, aren’t you happy about that? You love your mom.” Melissa asks her.

“I am happy about seeing her again, but that also means going back home without you.” Alison says and Melissa gives her a small smile.

“You see every day in school and all 3 of us spend time together on the weekends though. Even though we don’t live together, you still see me everyday.” Melissa tells her.

“But every evening after school you’re not there.”

“Would you prefer if I was?” Melissa asks her and Alison nods. “Well maybe your mom and I can talk about me spending evenings at your place or all of us spending evenings here.” Melissa tells her and Alison smiles.

“What are we doing after dinner?” Alison asks.

“I thought I could give you your first lesson on shuffling, maybe play another game and then watch a movie.”

“What game?”

“Well what game do you want to play kiddo?”

“Do you have snakes and ladders?” Alison asks and Melissa chuckles.

“Of course I do, l’m not an amateur.” Melissa jokes and Alison smiles before they finish dinner.

After dinner, Melissa teaches her how to shuffle properly without dropping any cards. Then they play snakes and ladders 3 times before they decide on a movie to watch.

“You wanna watch the Addams family?” Melissa asks Alison after Alison suggests it.

“Yep, I’ve heard it’s funny.”

“Well it is, and it’s also more of a Halloween movie.” Melissa tells her.

“Can we watch it?”

“Sure, you can get it ready and I’ll get the popcorn.” Melissa says and Alison smiles before getting it set up. Melissa comes back in with 2 bowls of popcorn and a few popcorn flavours. “Choose a flavour if you want.” Melissa tells her and Alison immediately adds the cheddar one.

They watch the Addams family together and Melissa sees that Alison is enjoying it a lot and maybe they can watch the second one too.

“I love Wednesday! Do you think I could be her for Halloween? She’s so cool!” Alison says after the movie.

“I think we could get you a Wednesday costume. Do you want to watch the second one? Wednesday is in it more.” Melissa tells her and Alison immediately nods her head excitedly.

“Can we have more popcorn? I finished mine.” Alison tells her and Melissa smiles before getting up and making more. “Oh my god, Debbie is just as crazy as them.” Alison exclaims during the movie and Melissa chuckles.

“That’s the point kiddo.” Melissa says and Alison leans on Melissa to cuddle with her, and Melissa immediately wraps her arm around her. Melissa reads Alison a bedtime story after she finishes getting ready for bed and Alison laughs every time she uses a funny voice. “Alright hon, I’ll see you in the morning.” Melissa tells her as she tucks her in and places a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.

The next morning, Melissa is cooking some bacon and eggs when she gets a video call and sees it’s from you.

“Hey you.” Melissa says as your face goes into view.

“Hey Melissa.” You say with a smile. “Wanted to call you before I leave for my flight.” You tell her and Melissa smiles.

“Well I never mind a call from you.” She says as she flips the bacon.

“The plane lands around 2:30 so I should get to your place around 3.” You say and she looks at you in shock.

“What makes you think Alison and I aren’t picking you up from the airport?” She asks you and you look at her with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want to assume.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“Well Alison and I will be there.” She tells you and you smile and nod your head.

“So how was it with Alison?” You ask her and she smiles.

“It was really good, lots of fun. And I was thinking of taking her bowling before you get here, unless you want to join us.” She tells you.

“It’s you and Alison’s choice.” You say with a smile.

“There is something that she said yesterday.” Melissa starts and you nod your head for her to continue. “She said she wanted me around more, like in the evening after school.”

“Oh, well that’s definitely an easy fix if you want to be around more.” You say.

“You don’t mind if I’m around more?”

“Melissa, we’ve been together for 6 months, if I didn’t want you around then I would have already told you.” You say with a small chuckle and she lets out an airy laugh.

“I guess so. And yes I do want to be around more. You both make me feel happy.” Melissa says as she turns off the stove and gets two plates.

“You know if her drawing is anything to go by, she sees you as family.” You tell her as she scoops the bacon and eggs onto the plates.

“She’s an amazing kid, I’d be happy if I could be family for you both.” She says and you smile at her.

“I always knew you were a softie, a red teddy bear.” You say to her and she scoffs.

“Only with you two.” She says with a smile.

“Is that bacon I smell?” Alison says as she enters the kitchen in her pjs.

“It is, kiddo.” Melissa says and grabs her phone. “Your mom is on the phone.” Melissa tells her and Alison grabs the phone.

“Hi mom!”

“Hey sweetheart, did you have fun with Melissa?” You ask her and she nods.

“A lot of fun! Yesterday, Melissa taught me how to shuffle cards and we watched The Addams Family.” Alison explains to you.

“Oh wow, sounds like you had a lot of fun yesterday. I also heard that you want to see Melissa more.” You say and Alison nods. “I think we can arrange that.”

“I want to see you and her at the same time though. Like living together.” Alison tells you and both you and Melissa freeze.

“I think it’s too early for that but we can definitely arrange where either Melissa comes here more or we spend more time at her place.” You explain to Alison and she nods.

“Ok.” Alison says.

“Alison, do you want to go bowling before we go pick your mom up or after?” Melissa asks her.

“Can we do it with my mom?” Alison says excitedly and Melissa nods.

“Of course.” Melissa tells her and brings the plates to the table. “So we’ll stay here until we have to pick your mom up and then we’ll go bowling after.” Melissa says and they both agree with her.

“Hey, I have to go but I’ll see you both around 2:30.” You tell them and Melissa bends down to see you on the phone as Alison is holding it.

“Alright hon. We’ll see you at 2:30.” Melissa says.

“Bye mom!” Alison says to you.

“Bye, I love you both.” You tell them

“I love you too.” Alison tells you.

“I love you hon.” Melissa tells you and then you disconnect the call. “Alright let’s eat.” Melissa says before they both go to sit at the table.

The day flew by too quickly for Melissa. Yes she’s happy that she’ll get to see you again, but acting like a mother for Alison for the weekend was better than she’ll admit.

After breakfast they both went to get dressed, then they drew, played cards, watched Scooby Doo. Melissa even helped Alison with some of the homework that she gave out on Friday. Before they knew it, it was time to go and pick you up. Melissa drove them both to the airport, parked and went to the gate that you’d arrive at.

You step off the plane and you go to where your luggage will be. You turn the corner and you see Melissa and Alison there, looking to be playing patty cake. You walk up further and you and Melissa lock eyes. You then see her stop playing with Alison and say something to her before Alison turns around.

“Mom!” She yells and comes running to you. You go on one knee and have your arms wide open as she makes her way to you and attacks you with a hug.

“Hi sweetheart! I missed you.” You tell her and she pulls away just as Melissa makes it to where you two are.

“Hey hon.” She says and then you stand back up and kiss her.

“Ew!” You hear and you pull back and look at Alison who’s making a face.

“What are you saying ew for?” You ask her.

“Because I’m looking at my mom kissing mama, that’s why.” Alison says and then walks over to the luggage.

“Wait, did she just-” you say and look at Melissa who’s looking at Alison in shock.

“She just called me mama.” Melissa says as a tear slides down her cheek.

“Mom, I see your luggage.” Alison says and you go over and take your luggage.

“Alison, did you just call me mama?” Melissa asks Alison and Alison nods.

“Is that ok?” Alison asks her and Melissa immediately nods and gives her a big hug.

“That’s more than ok kiddo. I love it!” Melissa says with a huge smile.

“Alright, ready to get out of here?” You ask them both and they nod.

You all go out to the car, pack your luggage in the trunk and then you all get in, with Melissa in the driver’s seat.

“Alright, bowling now?” Melissa asks you both.

“Ya! Bowling!” Alison yells and you nod. Melissa then grabs your hand and you look over at her with a smile. Melissa gives you a smile in return before she drives off to bring you all bowling.

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[jweekgoji]

I love your platonic hcs with five!! Can you make more please?:33

Yandere!Five/Reader [platonic/hcs]

tw: very soft yan!dad!five, reader described as child here, mentions of Five/Dolores romantic relationship, brief mentions of Five's past trauma, hints on eating disorders, overprotective behavior word count: ~900. a/n: Thank you for your request, Anon. It was good to write something about my old interest after quite a break. I made this is mostly based on information I had read months ago from some book. Tiny sequel for this.

Kinda sad that tua fics aren't as popular as before and slowly dying.

Let's ignore the ending and other moments we shouldn't talk and pretend like...everything ended well for the Hargreeves family! All the siblings mostly live separately from each other, but they still care for one another and meet on birthdays and other holidays.

Five meets a young, pretty lady during one of his undercover missions, and after that «love at first sight» trope, their relationship grows strong, leading to Five finally abandoning his job as an agent (honestly, good for him).

I really like the idea of Five having a quiet, peaceful life somewhere far away with his family. His wife is a popular fashion model and earns enough money for the family, while Five is the one who stays at the house, keeping you safe and raising the way he wished he was.

Five is scared to repeat the past mistakes his family members made; that's why I see him being extra overprotective with you. He wants to give you everything he never had in his childhood, and it often leads to you growing into some spoiled brat.

I can see him pausing for a moment and having that «wait...WHAT?» look when you reply with a sassy remark, and that's the moment he sees that you're basically becoming the tiny version of his young self. Part of him is proud, he knows that you will be able to stand up for yourself in the future, but the other part...he's not really happy to deal with someone who uses his own methods against him, as we can tell from the show (points at the other versions of Five).

Five is that parent who wakes up early in the morning to prepare breakfast for you. He has a sweet tooth, but he avoids giving you too much sugar, like I mentioned before. By the moment you wake up, you see a plate of eggs and bacon carefully formed into a smiley face with a glass of juice next to it.

I see Five spending a lot of time reading about parenting. He is well-educated enough in many fields, but it's just something he likes to do when he is free from house chores. Sitting in the chair with glasses on and a warm blanket laid on his lap, it's a heartwarming sight. Dolores will return from work later this day, only to see her husband having a nap in their little library and their child eeping next to him.

Five is especially careful with the food he prepares for you. After decades of loneliness in the apocalypse, he had few food choices. Every day felt like a constant survival, and the idea of you experiencing the same at such a young age terrifies him. He unconsciously gives you a little too much food, constantly asking “you need more?” just to make sure you're well-fed. Five might pay less attention to himself, but you're getting the best meal ever.

Five gives me the idea of that dad who will hold you close next to him 24/7. Yandere Five just can't bear the idea of you being somewhere away from home for more than an hour. There's a deep conflict in his heart, and his wife always tells him that it's fine. You're growing up, it's natural for you to try and separate from your parents, but this bothers him to insanity.

There's no more apocalypse, no more The Commission; the world is quiet now; there's no need for him to worry about. He never argues with you about it, the moment you leave your home to meet with a friend, your phone will cry from constant messages like “are you okay?”, “where are you now?”, “when will you go back?”. He needs to know it in case, well...just something happens, he's responsible adult, after all.

For most parents, Five seems like the ideal father figure, but he gets a little overbearing sometimes. When you snap at him, giving something like “just leave me alone!”, he would get quiet immediately. It is a significant difference between him now and in the past.

Usually he never lets people to dismiss him like that, he would have dragged you back and lectured you about disrespecting him, but now he's just sad. He will let you cool down, just to think what he has done wrong.

Five loves spending time with you, mainly because he never had the chance to spend some time with his own family. There were missions, there were trainings, there were constant fighting, etc., and after his retirement he plans to give his full attention to you. He knows a lot, from how to solve some difficult equations under 15 minutes to how to kill a person with a pencil, but it's not the same when the person whom you trust the most teacher you everything.

Reginald never bothered to spend a simple father and son moments, how to be a man and deal with various situations in his life, that's why he wants to teach you of something simple. He knows it's not as impressive, but it's quality time that matters.