#it's 8k+ words in case anyone was wondering why it TOOK SO LONG

[qin-ling]

I FINALLY FINSIHED CHAPTER 9 OF AS LIONS FOLKS HALLE FCUKIG LUJAH

[yeahimaloser]

Oooo I also got another good request how about a hawks x reader childhood friends they grow up together she took his punishments for him yk they have each other’s back and then in the future a villian attack and she ALMOST dies but no she gets save then hawks realizes he loves her and it’s all fluff at the end eek

Ok so, I literally love this request so much, I have no idea why it took me so long to write, but it's finally done!

Oh my god it took so long.

they/them pronouns used.

8k words! please enjoy!

16+ a bit suggestive at the end.

. . .

You sniffed, a hand wiping across your face as tears stung your eyes.

You had been training with the commission for a while now, almost a month to be exact. And it was so hard. In fact, it felt more like they were specifically targeting you.

You looked over at one of the other kids in the commissions program, Keigo, he seemed to have no problem with this exercise, in fact, you would have thought he was excelling at it.

But you could only sit and watch as his little wings flew past you.

You were only pulled from your family recently, but you knew that Keigo was here longer than you were. You rarely talked to him since your arrival, maybe it was because part of you didn’t want to become friends with anyone, maybe it was a small way of acting out, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t like him. He was just so much better than you.

Ever since you first came here, you’ve felt weak. You felt inferior to Keigo, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to him, watching exciede everyones expectations.

Compared to him, you were nothing but a dull blade.

You look down at your hands, cursing them as if that would do you any good. Your eyes stung again, the dust prickling against your eyelids.

The exercise was not supposed to be a difficult one, in terms of the gruelling training practices that they made you do, this one was pretty easy. All you had to do was get from one point in the commission's training facility, all the way to the other side of said facility. A simple running exercise. Although the floors were littered with traps, making it harder for you to get there, you knew it was supposed to be easy. And yet, for whatever reason, you had such immense difficulty.

Your quirk was mostly made for combat. It was the power they gave you the ability to control metal through your will. And although others might find it useful, you found it so difficult.

The problem was, your power was flashy, and yet not as easy to use as one might think. The metal had to touch you, which means that you have to get a hold of some metal object. And although technically you would be controlling it through your mind (Making it fly through the air at your own will) the object couldn’t be very heavy. Whatever metal object you wanted to use would weaken you. For example, controlling a knife was no problem, but controlling a 20 pound ball of metal was extremely difficult. which made your quirk almost completely useless here. Doing a running exercise, like you were doing now, there is little to nothing you could do with your quirk. The only times that your quirk would actually be useful, was during rescue missions or during an attack with multiple heroes in a big city with a lot of metal that you could touch. But that wasn't the case, and you hated it.

As you sat in the corner, trying desperately not to show your tears, you felt a gust of air as you looked up, only to be met with red wings.

“Are you…Ok?”

You never noticed how pretty his eyes were, the honey color’s made his features look so much softer.

After a few minutes, you realized he was still waiting for you to answer.

And for whatever reason, you felt your whole face becoming hot.

“I’m fine.” You said all too quickly.

He raises a bushy eyebrow at you, his face quizzical. “If you’re sure, but we are partners.”

You rolled your eyes.

You two were never truly partners. In this compound, there was only yourself to be concerned with.

“Stop pitying me, I can help myself.”

He smirked, “You say as if you’re not on the ground as we speak.”

You felt your face heating up again as you sprang to your feet, your eyes quickly narrowed, trying your best to seem composed.

“Why did you come back for me?”

But Keigo just shrugged, “Saw someone in need of help.”

That was the last straw.

You angrily stomped away. Who was he to judge you? Who was he to act like some hero? You knew he was the commission's golden boy, they loved him, he was their best weapon.

And you knew he was bright enough to know that as well. Although he never got any special treatment, you could tell by the way they trained him, how they paid more attention to his abilities and not so much the other’s.

Including you.

You felt something pull at you, something tugging you back.

You turned to see- a feather?

“Hey wait a sec,” Keigo said, “I wanna ask you something.”

Your face hardened, you two should be getting back to training soon, you knew the instructor would most likely yell at the two of you for falling too much behind.

“Ask your question and let's go,” you said, huffing.

“Do you want to be friends?”

The question caught you so off guard, causing you to stumble over a rock in front of you.

You whiped back to him, your eyes widen as you realized he was completely serious.

“Wha- friends? What the hell are you on about? There are no friends here, that's an idiot's dream.”

But Keigo only shrugged, “Well, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

You stared back at him, a look of pure disbelief written on your face.

Was he insane? Having friends here was almost imposible. The commission made sure of that, pitting you two against eachother, comparing you to one another, they made it so you would fight amongst yourselves.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

But he just shrugged, “Because I'm curious about you, and that crousity makes me want to befriend you.”

You stilled, thinking and thinking till your brain hurts.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now, I know I probably caught you off guard, and if you don’t want to, I understand… I think-I think I’m just lonely.”

You pursed your lips, still thinking it over in your mind before you grabbed his hand.

“Look, I’ll think about it, but first, let's get this race over with.”

Keigo smiled, blushing a bit as you two took off, hoping you two would becoming good friends.

. . .

And as time went on, you two did, in fact, become the best of friends.

By the time you were both teens, you and Keigo (or Hawks as his hero name) became the commissions pride and joy.

Although you were always so surprised that they didn’t want to through you out, Keigo was so much better than you, and you had fallen much behind him.

Keigo was faster, smarter and stronger, you knew that, you knew that all to well.

But, the commission never removed you, you continued to train to become a hero, right besides Keigo. A part of you wondered if maybe you were only kept on because of Keigo, maybe the commission saw how close you two were, watching how much you mattered to him, and maybe they thought they could use you to their advantage.

The thought made you shiver, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t impossible, and more than likely.

One night, as you and Keigo lay under the stars on the roof of the commission's building, watching the night sky above.

Suddenly, Hawks turned to you, “Hey Y/N,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

You nodded your head, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you....do you want to become a hero with me?”

You smiled, “Isn't that the whole reason we’re here? To become heroes?”

But Keigo just shook his head, “No I mean...what do you want to do? With your life?”

You took a pause, you’ve never really thought about it all that much. What did you want to do with your life? You’ve always just done what others have told you to do, always choosing to follow others rather than yourself.

You realized you had never thought about it before, never taking into consideration your feelings, you just worked to survive.

“...I don’t know.”

You hated saying it, it felt like such a childish thing to admit, especially with Keigo. Keigo, who’s figured out his life goal already. Keigo, who’s living out his dream. Keigo, who has most of his life planned out.

“I mean- I guess I’m not used to choosing for myself, you know? I’m not sure how to go about… figuring out my life without someone telling me how to live it first.”

But Keigo just nodded, “No, that makes sense, I mean, you’ve lived here most of your life, you’ve worked to become a hero, but that's really only because you were taught to be one. It’s ok to not know what you want out of life, and don’t worry, I’ll be here to support you, Y/N.”

Keigo turned to you, a smile plastered on his face.

That beautiful, amazing, breathtaking smile.

You felt your face become flushed, and you sat up quickly so as to not have Keigo notice.

“Yeah well- thanks,” you said softly.

But Keigo just laughed, “Don’t worry about it dove.”

. . .

Years later, and Hawks had become the number two pro hero. And you hadn’t done too badly yourself, coming in at the number eleventh spot.

You didn’t mind being behind Hawks, in fact, you found yourself becoming a bit proud of yourself because of how far you had made it.

Right now, you were busy on portal, watching citizens go about their day on a rooftop above.

You watched closely, wondering what kind of life you could have been living if you had never chosen to be a hero, wondering if you too, would have been walking on that very same street as some other hero observed you from afar.

Somedays you found yourself wondering if the hero commission hadn’t taken you away, had let you lived your life for yourself, what would you do? Who would you become?

You wondered if you would have met Keigo as well, or if that would only work if you had been with the hero commission.

Maybe in that universe, you two could finally be together.

It happened a while ago, when you figured out your true feelings for Hawks. Although, maybe you always had feelings for him, since you were little kids. But, you had feelings for him had began to bubble over, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, wanted to keep him to yourself. But you would never act on these feelings, you knew better.

Keigo Takami would never be yours, not in a million years.

You let out a sigh, just as you heard boots hit the ground behind you.

“Miss me,” a familiar voice asked.

Even though you had known Hawks since you two were kids, you were always caught off guard by those dazzling eyes, the honey gold color swirling around as he stared down at you, pinning you to your spot on the roof.

You smiled, “Hawks, I just saw you.”

He shrugged, “So? I still missed you in that time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you come here to bother me or do you actually have a reason to be here?”

His hands flew to his chest, dramatically saying, “Oh angel, how you wound my poor heart.”

You giggled, “Aw Hawks, always the flare for the dramatic.”

He smiled, but then his eyes got serious, “But I do need your help with something, a mission not too far from here.”

Watching Hawks in action was like watching an artist at work, he was careful, skillful, even downright majestic. He took care in his work, he worked quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

And, not to sound too cocky, you two made a pretty good team. And considering you two were very close friends, you vehemently enjoyed working with him.

Although, maybe it was cuz you also had a little bit of a crush on him.

Your face felt flushed at the thought, but before you could think your mouth had already said yes.

“Oh? Are you just agreeing so you can spend time with me, little dove,” Hawks smiled teasingly.

He had a habit of doing this, it was a little game he would play on you. teasing was so fun for him, but he didn’t realize how it gave you such butterflies.

Luckily though, although you did have feelings for him, you learned how to push them away for situations like this.

You scoffed, “Hawks, would you just give me the rundown. Or do I have to call the commission myself?”

He put his hands up, “Wow there chicky, no need to get antsy, I’ll explain everything, ok?”

He told you about the mission, nothing to fancy, in fact, it was quite easy.

Some of his sidekicks had noticed some suspicious activity near a specific location near U.A that the commission wanted to be checked out. They had said that they didn’t want another attack to happen yet again to the school.

On the outside, it might have seemed like the commission gave a shit about the kids in U.A, but you knew better. They just wanted to look good, and right now, this was the best way to do that.

“So basically, if we do see any suspicious activity, we’re allowed to bring anyone in there for questioning, and if worst comes to worst, we have orders to use force.”

You nodded, sounded just like a normal mission for the two of you, should be no p.

“Alright,” you said, “Sounds easy enough. Should we head over now? How will I get there?”

But Hawks seemed to be one step ahead of you.

He held out his hand, a smirk plastered on his dazzling face, “Just hold on to me, sweetheart.”

. . .

You’ve flown with Hawks before, considering how close you two were it was understandable that he would have offered a number of times.

But still, it Always made you so giddy.

The way he held you, so secure in his arms, his face inches away from you. And that gleam in his eyes, it always felt like it was only you and him in that moment, only you two in the entire sky. And each time, it made your heart shudder.

“You ok there, dove,” Hawks asked in your ear.

You jumped a little, surprised by his words. You realized you had begun spacing out while looking directly at him.

You composed yourself, “Just keep flyin’ bird brain. I’m just thinking.”

You could almost feel his smirk, “Thinking? Thinking of what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drop it Hawks.”

“Oh,” he said, his tone mischievous, “just like I can drop you?”

Just then, you felt Hawks serve mid-air.

“KEIGO,” you shouted, not even thinking.

But Hawks had regained his hold on you, the prank only lasting for a second.

He laughed, his chest shaking, “You should have seen your face, Chicky! Ha! That was funny!”

But you would disagree, “I swear to God, Hawks, I’ll punch you when we land.”

But you thought for a second, “Sorry I called you your name...so loud.”

Keigo didn’t really like his name, opting to be called ‘Hawks’ instead.

But you knew why he preferred his new name instead. Because of his past.

Keigo was a kid left in the dirt, left and discarded, a remnant of a past that wasn’t so pleasant. You knew that thinking about it only brought pain to him, and saying his name out loud would only remind him of a past he would rather soon forget.

And the name ‘Hawks’ had marked the beginning of a new life for him. It was a way for him to move on past that old life, a way for him to become the best version of himself.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s ok… I don’t think anyone heard,” Hawks said.

His grip on you seemed to be tighter, more secure.

“And also, you know I would never drop you, right? I could never hurt you, ever.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s so cheesy. Just don’t drop me and it’s fine.”

. . .

The place wasn’t too bad.

It was an old supply garage, there were about four people from what you could see.

It was definitely near U.A, you could see a clear view to the school, although it was far, it definitely had a vantage point. You could see why this could be a problem, and your brain hurt thinking about what villainous thing they could be planning.

You could hear the guy closest to you, it was a bit hard but you honed your ears.

“So, you all have everything,” a man asked in a scratchy rough voice.

“Yeah,” one of the others said, “everything's here, make sure to give it to Shigaraki with our gratitude.”

You looked over at Hawks, but his eyes were trained on the villains, his black pupils sharpening and watching their every move, before he nodded, signaling to move out.

And then, everything happened in a flash.

Hawks, as always, moved fast and quick, and you come up behind him.

Hawks grabbed one of the men, and held back the other two with his feathers, leaving only you and the two others.

You pulled out your handy metal staff, preparing yourself to bend it to your will.

But you never got the chance.

One of the men smirked a gun in his hand. The other behind him, activating what looked like an ice quirk.

And before you could think, you felt your feet being Frozen down to the hard metal floor of the garage.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

you tried your best to wiggle your way out of it, but you saw no way to free yourself from your icey binds.

Luckily, with your fast thinking, you grabbed the metal staff, shaping it to hit one of the men square in the jaw, making him drop his weapon.

the other one was taken aback, a perfect opening for your staff to hit him in the face.

But your feet were still frozen to the floor, and a few whacks to the felons was not going to be enough to take them down.

You racked your brain, Hawks was too far away, and there was no way you could get out of the ice on your own.

You brought your metal stuff back, using it to break the ice on your feet. Just as the men were getting back up.

You ran over, preparing to hit one of the men right in the face, a blow big enough to knock them out.

But you never got the chance.

The other man tackled you to the floor, your back hitting the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you, little hero.”

You looked over at Keigo, but there was no use. He was too busy fighting his own battle, and you knew it wasn't fair to rely on him.

So, with all your strength you pushed the man off. Using the metal floor to help you.

Just then, an idea occurred to you. It was risky, but it could work.

You knew that Keigo was far enough for it to work, it wouldn’t hurt him, but the only problem was it wouldn’t trap the two villains he was fighting.

But, considering he was the number two hero, you knew he would be just fine. You trusted him in that.

The ground beneath you is made of metal, you could feel it beneath your feet. You could also feel the two men running towards you.

You dodged their initial attacks, but you knew that they would soon overpower you. You also knew that you couldn't kill them, but you could hurt them.

So your best bet was to trap them, and yourself, before backup came.

You hit your palm against the floor, willing it to your mind. It was a long stretch, and you could feel the strain on your body. The toll that it was taking was immediate, your muscles felt tired, your brain even felt foggy for a few minutes, but you kept going.

You made sure that the ground collapsed, but it wouldn't hurt anybody.

You were not expecting, however, for the ceiling to collapse along with it.

There must have been a support beam on the ground as well that you had taken down with the floor, causing the ceiling to come down.

You looked up, seeing the last moment as the ceiling collapsed on you.

. . .

Hawks hated hospitals.

The smell, the people, the pain. He hated it all, but you were the one in the hospital, so of course, he needed to come.

The days after the accident had been hard, to say the least.

Keigo just remembered watching as the rooftop collapsed, watching your bruised body go along with it.

He remembered screaming your name too, yelling and willing all his feathers to help you, to get you out.

He remembered his heart racing and beating so hard in his chest, he remembered his eyes, tears swelling up as his breath ran ragged.

He didn’t even care about the villains, he had caught the two he had been fighting already, but he didn’t care. He needed to get you out, he needed to make sure you were ok.

After digging for what felt like an eternity, there you were, bruised and bloody. But you were breathing, and he held you close, his tears dripping over your cheeks.

He felt his heartbreak, he couldn't stand the sight of you being hurt, he couldn't stand the thought that he had something to do with it.

He wanted you to wake up, he wanted you to wake up so badly it hurt. For you to look up, and teased him about crying. He wanted nothing more than to apologize over and over, for making his friend suffer, even if it was unintentional.

He knew he could never forgive himself, and he knew he could never make it up to you.

Keigo knew you were in bad shape, so he called the ambulance to take you to the hospital. He was there with you the whole way, watching you, helping in any way he could.

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, watching as your fragile body was rolled away to the special care unit of the hospital, as the doctors told him he couldn’t come in with you.

“Mr. Hawks,” a voice said in front of him.

He flinched.

Hawks wasn’t someone who was easily startled, seeing as he had years of training, but his mind was so all over the place. Worrying and wondering if you were ok, hoping and praying to god everything would be ok.

He couldn’t lose you, and he realized that only now.

If he lost you, how would he even be able to function? You were everything to him, his friend (if he was being truthful, his only true friend) , his rock, the person he could trust for support and help.

To be honest, if he lived in a world without you, he really wouldn’t know what to do…

“Sir?”

He snapped back to reality, his eyes looking up at the doctors.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I think I’m just a bit off my game today, you’ll have to excuse my behavior. But what were you saying, sir?”

“Well, L/N Y/N has sustained some pretty severe injuries, such as bruising of the sides and hips, and a broken leg,” Hawks sucked in a breath, “We know how to treat it, of course, but Y/N will need much recovery time. That being said, Y/N seems to not have any family or emergency contacts but you. If it’s ok with you, would you be willing to visit as well as look over Y/N in the recovery period?”

Hawks quickly agreed, “Anything doctor, anything you need or Y/N needs...anything at all.”

The doctor smiled at him, “Thank you, Mr. Hawks, unfortunately though, Y/N needs a bit more time alone, but when we deem it ok, you can come back for a visit.”

Hawks felt his shoulders slump, he knew it was selfish, but he had hoped to see you again, to apologize for putting you in that piston, he felt horrible.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that at all, it was supposed to be a swift and easy fight. It was really just supposed to be the four guys with easy quirks, and they were all supposed to be an easy fight.

Hawks had learned about the hideout in front of U.A a while ago, when he learned it was also a part of the ledge, he went right to Dabi.

“Are you insane,” he had said, “someone will catch you, and personally, I can’t stand by and let you attack those kids.”

“Oh?” Dabi smirked, “And how will you stop us? You’re a part of the league now, bird boy, and we need this lookout, so just shut up already.”

Keigo huffed, “I can’t let you do that, that’s right by my portal area, my bosses will get suspicious, and I look bad enough as it is. I haven’t brought anyone from the league in, soon someone will put two-in-two together.”

It was a lie of course, his bosses knew exactly why he couldn't bring in anyone from the league, they had assigned the mission after all.

But the problem didn't lie with his bosses, it lay with the other Heroes and the public eye. The other hero’s had started to whisper to each other, wondering why the Hawks hadn’t brought in anyone from the notorious League of villains yet. He heard their whispers, and it made him uneasy. He knew if he didn't act soon, they would just grow more and more suspicious. As for the public eye, he couldn't let his image slide, he had to figure out a solution, and this would be the perfect way to do so.

Dabi pondered the idea, toying with Hawks’ growing anticipation, like a cat pawing at a helpless bird.

“Alright, I suppose we can make that work.”

And so, a plan was formed.

Keigo was to swiftly take the four men in for questioning. Dabi had arranged for it so all vital information was to be learned from the lookouts, and then Hawks could swoop in and go in fighting. The other four men would have no idea what was going on, so it looked like the real deal.

They had set up specific times and dates to make sure they would take the men and the lookout down, that way the league wouldn’t lose any vital information.

“I’ll tell you when, don’t start till I tell you,” Dabi had said, “or else there will be problems.”

And Hawks had done as he was told, he waited for Dabi to give him the all-clear, and went in.

But you getting hurt was never a part of the plan.

Keigo felt guilt clawing at his chest. How did he get like this? He was supposed to be the one to protect you, to make sure that you were always okay.

But it seemed like he was the one who got you hurt.

His guilt was suddenly replaced by anger, it made him ball his fist.

Those men were supposed to be easy to take down, they were supposed to be simple to deal with, but even Keigo had difficulty defeating them all on his own.

This was an error on his part, he knew that, but he also couldn’t help but simultaneously blame Dabi as well.

It was his fault that he hadn’t warned Keigo about the strength of the men.

Keigo was going to make him pay….

. . .

Dabi’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, Keigo’s angry eyes boring into him.

“I should kill you right here, right now.”

Dabi laughed, “Look, it wasn’t my fault your little partner couldn’t handle a few guys, ain't they supposed to be a hero? Shouldn’t they be able to help themselves?”

Dabi’s twisted smile made Keigo see red.

“I swear Dabi-”

“The league will come after you, you know that.”

Keigo felt his hands shake with rage, his fingers wrinkling Dabis' shirt.

“What were they to you? You seem pretty upset there, birdy. Maybe….your lover?”

A feather sharpened at Dabi’s neck, Keigo’s fury never leaving his body.

“Say one more goddamn word and I swear to god I'll kill you.”

“Look,” Dabi said, “I didn't know how strong those guys were, I thought that you'd be able to take ‘em down pretty easily. But I guess we just gave ‘em more training than I thought. That's all. Nothing I could have done about it, and nothing you could have done about it. You should know that stuff like this is inevitable, shit is bound to go wrong.”

Keigo released him, his eyes still boring into Dabi’s.

“If I figure out you had some sort of part in this-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kill me. I get it.”

Keigo stormed off, walking away from Dabi.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone, anyone, he just wanted someone to blame, someone to feel the way he felt.

The fact that you were in pain only made it worse.

What was he to do now? He couldn’t go home, he would only be able to think about you, only be able to think about your laugh, your eyes, your lips….

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of something like that? And at a time like this? You were...his friend.

But that thought made his heart sink. Like that thought had filled him with dread.

He sighed, shaking his head, this wasn’t about him, it was about you, it was about helping you. Not thinking about his feelings. Or lack thereof.

He felt his phone ring in his back pocket, just before he was leaving.

Looking at the number, he realized it was the doctor's office that was calling.

Without even thinking he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Hawks, we just wanted to ask if you would want to come in and see the patient L/N Y/N, they have woken up. So if you would like to see them-”

“Yes!” Keigo said, a bit too excitedly, “Sorry- about the interruption- but yes I would like to see them.”

“Alright Mr. Hawks, please come whenever you can, they’ve been asking for you.”

. . .

Hawks had never flown so fast, rushing so fast in order to see you, needed to see you.

When he finally got there, he rushed in, finding the receptionist to find your room.

“They’re in room 236 sir-”

But he cut her off, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Ok, thank you so much.”

Finding your room was easy, and yet, he found himself outside your room, dreading to go in.

How could he face you? How could he apologize? How could he look you in the eye, see what happened to you, and be able to talk to you.

He ran a hand down his face, why was this so hard? He’s taken down many many villains before, and he had never felt as anxious as he did now?

“...Hawks?”

He jumped, he actually jumped.

There you were, standing, only a few inches away from his face, his eyes widened and he could feel his whole body becoming hot.

Why did he suddenly become like this around you? His heart felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt strange.

But your face, it looked so stunning, that for a moment he couldn’t feel his lungs.

“Are you...ok?” He was surprised that his voice finally managed to work.

You blinked, “Yeah, I’m ok. What about you, though? Your face is all red. Do have a fever or something? I can call a doctor.”

“No no,” he sighed, “just...feeling weird I suppose.”

He felt the redness travel from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, “I-I’m fine, really, don't worry about me, I'm actually here to see you.”

You smiled, gazing up at him, “Aww, you can see lil’ old me? How thoughtful.”

You both walked into your room, and Hawks watched as you lay down on the bed.

The hospital room was nothing special, a state-of-the-art hospital room, similar to one's that Hawks had been in many times. Being a hero always came with getting hurt, but seeing you in this condition, made his heart squeeze.

if he could, he would go back in time and figure out a way so that he could be in this situation, not you. You didn't deserve it, you have done nothing but help him, and this is how he repaid you? He felt sick with guilt.

“Hawks?” You said.

He snapped up, like coming back from a bad dream.

But you just laughed your sweet, kind laugh.

Hawks wanted to hear it again, one more time he wanted to hear you laugh like that, it made him feel like everything was drifting away from him like it was just you and him in this entire world.

“You’re totally out of it! What’s gotten into you,” You said, a smile still plastered on your face.

“Sorry, just thinkin’.”

“Yeah well you must be thinking a little too hard there, are you okay? Do you want to sit down? Something's obviously bothering you, you can tell me.”

but hawks just side, “I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

But you just smiled up at him, “Hawks, nothing in this world could make me upset with you.”

And so he told you, about the league, about the secrets he's been hiding from you. It felt good, it felt good to finally confide in someone, it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he felt at ease, talking to you like you were the only person who would ever understand. And you probably were.

You listened to him, you listened as he told you about what happened, about how sorry he felt, you didn't blame him for what happened, You just listened. You listened and listened and listened.

So when he finally finished, he was scared of what you would say.

“...I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Hawks you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked up at you, “B-but I got you hurt-”

“That’s not your fault though, you had a mission to follow.”

“But I should have never involved you.”

“I'm glad you did, it could have been you that would have gotten hurt,” you said, smiling.

But he just tsked, “It would have been better if it was me, I can’t stand to see you like this, you know.”

Your hands went to his cheeks, bringing his face closer, “And I wouldn’t be able to see you like this either, I would have blamed myself. I’m glad I came with you, even if it meant I got hurt in the process. I care about you, Hawks.”

Keigo couldn’t breathe, you were so close, your lips an inch away.

“Keigo.”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I want you to call me Keigo when we’re alone from now on, I...I like when you say it.”

You paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing, “Where did this come from?”

His face went red, “I-I don’t know, just kinda been thinking about it I guess.”

You giggled a bit before saying, “Ok, I mean, if that’s what you want. Y’know, you’ve been acting strange Haw-Keigo,” you corrected, “are you sure everything's ok?”

There it was again, the pitter-batter in his heart, the nervousness in his stomach.

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t know how he would even categorize the way he was feeling, he couldn't explain it to himself, much less to you.

“I’m fine, just...overwhelmed I guess.”

He shook his head, “But I should be asking how you are, you're the one in the hospital, not me. Stop worrying, how are you, how are you feeling? What do you need me to do? I'll be here to help you, no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, “Eventually you’ll have to go home, and I’m totally fine, Keigo.”

By the mention of his name, he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze.

“R-right, well, can I just..stay here. With you? Till you get better?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

. . .

While you were in the hospital, Keigo stayed by your side. He never left you, he cared for you, watched over for you, and was so understanding.

It only made your feelings for him deeper, and you were loath to admit that you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed watching him fawn over you, knowing that he was close to you. You two would talk for hours, about anything, and you loved it. You loved feeling him near you, watching his eyes soften and the stupid silly quirk of his smile. You felt warm inside, you felt so at peace with him at your side.

You knew it was selfish, but you couldn't help loving how long you were spending with him.

But, it all came to an end, and you had to go home.

To your surprise, Keigo offered you to stay with him for a little bit.

Just till you get back on your feet,” he said.

Your heart leaped at the opportunity, sharing a house with the guy you had a crush on for years? It felt like you were a lovesick teenager again. Although, you would always be lovesick when it came to Keigo.

At Keigo’s house, he was nothing but polite to you. Although, a bit too polite.

For all his flirting, for all his suave charm, he was never really like that with you. He was just normal, keeping to himself in the house, but always being able to hang out with you or do anything with you if you wanted.

And yet, you could feel the nervousness oozing off of him, like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

Like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out.

It, intern, made you just as nervous.

Were you being a nuisance? Did you say something to upset him? A million thoughts running through your head, and you are worried about all of them.

The last thing that you would ever want to do would be to upset Keigo, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Maybe he felt bad about the accident?

You sucked in a breath, that had to be it. He felt bad, and therefore, was nervous around you.

You have to confront him, you thought, you had to clear the air so you would both feel better.

You decided to wait till tomorrow morning, not wanting to scare or embarrass him well you could tell he was so nervous.

. . .

“Keigo,” you said, a waver in your voice showing how nervous you were.

“Hm?” Keigo looked up from his phone, his honey-colored irises landing on you, only serving to make you more anxious.

You took a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you about something. and it's pretty important, so I'd appreciate it if you could listen till the end.”

Keigo sat up, “What, am I in trouble or something?” He said in a teasing, yet nervous way.

“No,” you sighed, “But I just really need to talk to you about something.”

You took one moment more to collect yourself before speaking, “We've known each other for a long time, we've known each other since we were little kids when we were both put into the commission's program and since we were both made heroes. So you should know, that I know when you're upset.”

You saw Keigo twitch in his chair, but you continued.

“You've been nervous ever since the hospital, maybe even nervous in the hospital. And I don't know what's going on with you. I... I don't know if it was something that I did, or if it was something that happened, but I'm here for you. And I don't like it that you keep this a secret from me. I consider you to be one of my best friends, and I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I'll still always love you. Nothing will ever change that,” a smile pulled at your lips as you said your last sentence.

It was silent for a few moments, the air between you too felt heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Keigo spoke, “Y/N, I want to tell you something, but... I'm not sure how you’ll react.”

You tried to speak up again, but Keigo cut you off.

“I know that you're going to say that nothing can ever come between us, and I do believe you. But... something came up and I just don't know how to deal with it. You mean so much to me, and losing your friendship is my worst nightmare. And I guess…. I just got so scared of losing you that I just didn't think about anything else. I'm sorry.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion, “Keigo, I’m not sure what you mean? What are you talking about? What came up?”

But Keigo just sighed, “Y/n I...I think I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart stop, your eyes widened as your brain was racing.

What did you say? No... that couldn't be right.

Keigo Takami could not be in love with you, he just wouldn't. You had accepted that a long time ago, you knew that he would never have the same feelings that you had for him. You knew that, so what was going on?

“I...I’m sorry?”

Keigo’s face turned a bright shade of pink, “I-I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, I know it must be a lot to take in, if you’re uncomfortable being here with me feel free to leave. I completely understand-”

But your lips stopped his words, your body pressed firmly to his.

He was started by the kiss at first, but soon, his body and mind became muddled, hands wrapped around your waist as he tasted your lips. It felt intoxicating.

Before you knew it, your hips were straddling him, keeping him locked in his chair. But Keigo wasn’t complaining.

Your lips tangled with one another as moans escaped both of you, your hands unable to leave each other's bodies.

Your hands traveled down his chest, even ripping open the button-down he was wearing, showing his abs and rippling muscles.

“Y/N..” Keigo said, his voice hoarse.

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, slanted, and staring you down. But they had a softness to them, one that made your heart flutter.

“Keigo… god you have no idea how much I love you,” you said.

If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Keigo smirked, “‘s that so babe? Well, I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

His lips attached to the column of your throat, kissing and nipping lightly at the skin. His hands roaming up and down your body made you feel as though you were on fire. His calloused hands stroked your back, making you arch into him.

“K-Keigo,” you moaned.

But he just hummed into your skin, his brain turning to mush, only able to think about how much pleasure he could give you, how much love he wanted to show you.

“Keigo, I love you,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Keigo groaned, still occupied with your neck, but pulled his lips away in order to say; “I’m glad,” and smiled at you.

You returned his smile before your lips found his again.

It would be a very long night.

[gaitwae]

The Dark Angel [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Possibility of being bad, it’s a sequel.

Length: 8k

Summary: Bruce Wayne and Charlene fluff, i don’t really know XD

  Ring, ring, ring.  

The sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon when the telephone rang, violently and loudly. Internally, Bruce knew it wasn’t an emergency — it was someone trying to reach him before the day started. If it was an emergency, the caller wouldn’t have dialed the Blackberry. It wasn’t the red phone; the small cell was for business,  not pleasure, so it wasn’t that either; he had a small rotary for the boys in case they were sick or held up at the university or high school (or in Damian’s case, soccer practice). The ringing phone was the Blackberry.  

His thoughts were all over the place. In the beginning, his first thought was that he really needed to change the ringtone. It sounded like Christmas bells on Kryptonian steroids. The darn thing was just outside of Bruce Wayne’s reach for the first time in years; that thought alone was infuriating to him. The more he dwelled on someone calling the Blackberry… 

Ring, ring, ring.

“Not today,” he swore, heaving a sigh and hoisting himself off of the bed. His Blackberry kept buzzing and playing its tone on the nightstand like an angry massage tool from Tartarus. He wiped his face, and just before the contraption could finish its next Ring, ring, ring, he answered the call. “Bruce Wayne.” His tone was gruff; he wanted to make sure the caller knew that the excuse better be good. The billionaire wasn’t in the mood to play games with the idiot on the other line.

“It’s Clark,” the voice on the opposite end answered. Bruce tensed. Clark had no reason to call him this early — had something happened with Charlene? Did their trip to Smallville get tracked? 

“Clark —”

“Don’t worry; this isn’t life-threatening. You left something in that suit jacket you lent me,” his friend explained. “We should talk… Soon.”

The tension that built in Bruce left instantaneously. He had almost forgotten: Weeks ago, an envelope had been slipped into the inside pocket for Clark to find. He couldn’t risk saying something around Charlene, or anyone else who could have found her, when the risk was so high. He didn’t expect Kent to find it immediately, but he didn’t think it would take weeks to discover the note.

“I placed it in the jacket intentionally,” Bruce replied. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He would have to go downstairs soon. The boys would need to be woken up. Alfred would reprimand him about his sleep, telling him that a ‘sound body and mind cannot operate under such conditions,’ when he came downstairs. He could already see where the day was taking him. “I was banking on you finding it much earlier. Why did it take you so long?”

A pause. 

“I don’t think she’s going to like this, Bruce.” He could hear shuffling over the mic, the crinkling of paper. “She really won’t like this. She just bought a house; this is quite a big commitment.” 

“I’m not proposing, Clark; calm down.” Bruce rubbed a finger under his eye once or twice. He didn’t have the patience so soon in the day. He reached over to his bedside table and switched on the lamp. “She would despise that, not to mention how we haven’t talked about it, yet.”

“I didn’t even know you two were really together.” Clark’s tone reflected an edge — either protective, disgusted, or judgemental — that told Bruce exactly how much trust he had when it came to Charlene Park. “The last I heard about the two of you was your most recent trip to Metropolis.”

“When I met with Luthor,” Bruce guessed. He chewed his cheek; he didn’t mind talking about Char, but when it came to his relationship with her, he preferred not to be bothered — his affections didn’t need to be questioned left and right. Char was a grown woman. She chose Bruce; that should have been the end of it. “We’ve seen each other in Gotham since then. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you.”

“Yeah, with Luthor. Char said you had coffee and she babysat Damian,” he said. His voice was rising. For having impermeable skin, Bruce was having surprising luck getting underneath it. “And what do you mean ‘surprised she hasn’t told you’? What are you implying? That you’re sleeping together?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Bruce answered. “If we were sleeping together, I’d be the one to tell you. You’ll be glad to hear that we aren’t.” Clark scoffed over the phone; clearly, he didn’t believe that. “I just thought you’d like to know what I’m planning; Diana will need to be informed as well. This is important. Char’ll need all the help she can get.”

“You know, I never did take you for the type of guy to be with Charlene,” the other man continued. “You’re brooding and dark; she’s not like that at all. You’ve got some nerve—”

“Is this all you needed, Clark?” the billionaire deadpanned, cutting the Kryptonian off. He looked over at the bedside clock. It read 4:22 AM . Superman was far more worried than he was letting on if he was calling at the witching hour. 

He didn’t need to be. Bruce would make sure that the woman was safe above anything else — he loved her too much to just put her in harm’s way. 

“You know she’ll be fine,” Wayne reassured.

“Do you think this is safe for Charlene? This lifestyle?” the journalist whispered into the phone. “Lois couldn’t handle it; who knows if Char can?”

“She’s more involved than we ever anticipated,” Bruce said. He wet his lips. Lois left Clark? Unsurprising. “She’ll be excited to join. She has the potential; why waste it?”

“What will the boys think? They’ll think they’re getting a mom.”

He huffed a half-humored laugh. The boys didn’t know yet — no one knew. Clark was the first to be told. “They love Char. It shouldn’t be an issue to let them think that. Damian already told her she would be the only acceptable candidate for a stepmother. In the next decade, they might have one.”

“You can’t be serious. You’d marry Char? She’s going to join the League?”

“I’m plenty serious. She’s going to be part of the Justice League’s inside informants if she wants to. Whether you approve or not.” He didn’t answer the marriage question. Marrying Charlene would require more time. He wasn’t ready; she hadn’t hinted at anything more. She had only stayed at the manor twice — he felt that was enough of a leap for now.

He didn’t need to marry her out of the blue, did he?

“I don’t approve. She’s delicate. What if she thinks that your attempt at being personal is —?”

“Goodbye, Kal-El.” Without another word, Bruce hung up the phone. Clark had too many worries; too many things on his mind. He was so preoccupied with Charlene’s life that he had to ask about her relationship instead of the plan to incorporate her into the League. He needed to let go and learn to trust others’ judgement… But then again, some could say the same thing about the Batman.

Bruce sat up in bed. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Charlene or said he never thought about fully committing. It had been three years since the gala; things were going well between them. If he was just a billionaire, he might have tried harder, pressed for marriage instead of bringing it up every now and then. 

But he wasn’t just a billionaire.

Bruce wiped his face again and looked out his bay window. He could see the area of town where he first saw her… where the Batman thought Charlene Park would jump to her death. He hadn’t expected to even meet her after that. He hadn’t expected a wonderful woman who understood him. Meeting her seemed so long ago now. It seemed against reality to think he hadn’t known her at one point in time. 

He could make a few calls before seeing his family, maybe create a funding account for Char when she was ready to join the League; he knew she wouldn’t say no if he explained himself the right way. She was warming up to the idea of helping him with all aspects of life — he was warming up to the idea of domesticity. At the same time, making the calls would be presumptuous. Who knew if Charlene wanted that, yet? He didn’t want to do anything without talking to her.

Char may have understood the Batman, but he certainly couldn’t predict her. The identity guessing and the kiss and the entire history of their relationship proved that fact over and over and over like a natural law. Everyone thought they were gravity: dangerous; inevitable; fitted perfectly to the human body like Earth’s atmosphere.

He thought they were just a coincidence that turned into a gift. Charlene was an angel; he was her knight in shining armor.

“Time to start the day,” Bruce mumbled. He got up from his bed. He looked out the bay window once again. He sighed deeply. 

Gotham City. 

Would this place really be safe as Charlene’s future home?

He looked away, resting his head against his pillow and trying to sleep again. The attempt wasn’t very fruitful — eventually, he got up and dressed for the day. He tinkered with the gadgets he had created for Char, tweaking it and wondering whether or not to pick up the phone and call her. Every day was another failed attempt to be the hero she needed.

“Ah! Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred Pennyworth greeted the dark knight as he descended from the stairway. The old man handed him a glass of water and the stack of letters that had been delivered overnight. “I take it you had a restful night?”

“Barely,” he sighed, squeezing his old friend’s shoulder in appreciation. Bruce drank from the glass, feeling the coolness spread downward. It was calming, but not the calm he needed. “I got a call from Clark Kent at about four in the morning. How are the boys? Are they all up? I had something I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Damian is awake; Dick has left for school; Tim is still sleeping; Jason never slept, I’m afraid.” Alfred cocked his head, eyebrows lifting as he studied his former ward. He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a careful breath, asking in a wary voice, “Is everything alright, Master Bruce? Was Mr. Kent’s call that important, sir?” 

“Yes and no,” Bruce answered. He didn’t clarify; he couldn’t think of an answer for each question. He scratched his neck, taking Alfred with him as he walked down the hall. Each picture on the walls was of the Wayne family, and as he got closer to the end of the hall, each of the boys. Dick with his acceptance letter to Rutgers University; Damian’s birthday; Jason against a tree; Tim playing guitar. Countless family pictures. There was a spot on the wall waiting for Char, he realized. “We’ll just have to talk about it when Dick comes home. I’ll sit the other boys down and tell them not to leave.”

“Sir?” Alfred asked, now flabbergasted. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” he said. He tried for a smile. Alfred didn’t relax, so Bruce stopped. “It’s just about Charlene.”

The butler nodded deeply. He leaned in and looked about the room to make sure no one was spying on them. The corridor was empty. He held his breath to listen, but the only sounds were their shoes clicking on the tile. “Sir, is Charlene… leaving us?” Alfred whispered. “I thought you and she were getting along rather nicely.”

Bruce didn’t react. “I’ll talk about it later tonight, Alfred. I’ll need to see Char when she comes back from Kansas — if she’s leaving, we’ll find out after I visit her.” He clapped Alfred’s shoulder. “But if she isn’t, we might have to reclean the guest room.”

“The guest room, sir?” Pennyworth grinned.

Bruce found himself surprised at that. Another joke, obviously, but he just hadn’t thought about that sort of arrangement with any seriousness. “Yes — she’s not going to be in my room, Alfred.” 

“A woman who’s not so worldly, eh?” the butler chuckled. 

Bruce smirked. “No, it would seem not.”

°°°

Charlene would have to say that her morning wasn’t going perfectly. Going down to see Johnathan and Martha was one of the best parts of the year. It was the best part of the upcoming summer season! But this morning, this last week, she had noticed that Clark was acting insane. Her instincts told her to ask, to say something, but she got swept away with her pseudo-parents fluttering about her and asking how life was in the big city.

“You look so grown up, now!” Martha cooed. She set her hands on Char’s shoulders and turned her about, checking her face over. Charlene had stayed with Martha and Johnathan for two years when she was a teenager. They were the closest she had to family. Every summer, she returned to stay with them for two weeks — whether or not Clark was there. Martha, now satisfied with how Charlene’s physique and health was, found her gaze set on the newscaster’s newest gift from Bruce: A small locket pendant graced with a rose-shaped diamond, tied around her neck by a silver chain. “I love this new piece of jewellery you’re wearing, sweetheart. What is it?”

“Has Clark finally made a move?” Johnathan asked. He took a sip from his coffee cup, craning his neck to see the necklace. He turned his head sideways at it, then hummed. “It’s gorgeous, honey. Whose gift was that? Was that from my boy?” He laughed, looking over at Kal-El. “Did you buy that for Char, son?”

“Er, no.” Char laughed nervously, holding the locket in her hand to hide it. “He isn’t going to make a move. He didn’t buy it. I’m seeing someone else; it’s going pretty well. He’s a businessman, single father.”

“Who are you seeing?” Martha gasped. She pushed a mug of coffee into Charlene’s hands, shuffling about the kitchen to try and find some food for everyone. This conversation was just before breakfast. “It’s such a nice necklace! When can we meet him?”

“He doesn’t want to push things too fast,” Char explained. She smiled brighter than she wanted to; she was nothing but happy when she talked about Bruce. She hadn’t seen him in almost three weeks due to work and flight preparations, his business meetings, and whatever secret project he was working on. “He’s got three sons and a ward who’s planning on surprising him with adult adoption papers for next Father’s Day.”

“That sounds just…,” Martha trailed off, pressing her lips together as she thought of the words. Charlene knew she was a little wary, almost disappointed. Seeing a man with multiple children either meant he was one of the sweetest men in the world or one of the more careless. How he raised his children was a completely different story. Not wanting to spread Bruce’s life story around to everyone, she just figured it was better to keep quiet about it. “How old is this man?”

“He’s thirty-seven,” she continued. “He, uh, adopted two of the three sons. The youngest was a different situation. Clark’s met him already.”

Johnathan nodded. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked to Clark, who was still acting off. “So he’s a good man, then?”

“One of the best men,” Charlene swore. She opened the locket, looking at the picture of Bruce holding a rose to the camera on the inside with an inscription on the opposite side: “More than you know. - B.W.”  

She showed Martha and Johnathan. Martha set a hand on her heart and Johnathan’s shoulder, smiling at the picture and carved words. “We’re taking it slow and old-fashioned; eventually, I’ll bring him down here for you to meet. Or he’ll invite you to his home — whichever comes first.” She grinned, closing the locket. Martha smiled at her.

“How long have you two been seeing each other? It seems like this man loves you,” Martha said. “Does he know your history? When did he give that pretty thing to you?”

“Yes, he knows my history. He gave me the locket about two months ago. I took him to my favorite spot in Metropolis and gave him a few written letters about my feelings.” She scratched her scalp. “The next time he saw me, he said he couldn’t just let me be the only one who ‘let their affections come to light.’” She laughed at her imitation of Bruce. Martha gasped and grinned.

“So you’re taking it so slow you haven’t told him you love him, yet?” Clark scoffed behind her. “You wrote a letter? After two years?” Charlene rolled her eyes, turning to see her best friend of nearly twenty years. The Kents’ faces drew up in surprise, but Char just frowned. He had barely said anything last night and this morning. Why did the first thing have to be about his distaste for Bruce?

“He knows I do; you know he isn’t big on words. We’ve found other ways of telling each other.” She crossed her arms. Clark mirrored her movement, rolling his eyes. He took his glasses off and set them on the table, pinching his lids closed. “How many times are we going to have to talk about this? I know you don’t like the idea of me dating anybody, but it’s going to happen. I might even get married; are you going to make nasty comments about that, too?”

“I might if it’s him. He’s going to get you killed, Charlene. Do you have any idea what he’s got planned for you?” He raised his hands and then dropped them. 

“No, not really. Gosh, Clark, you realize it doesn’t matter. You’re Superman. He’s not any different from you. Let it go.” She waved her hand in dismissal. She tried to turn back to Martha and Johnathan. She didn’t want to get into the I’m-dating-Batman explanation today.

Kal-El screamed in frustration, hovering off the floor by a few centimeters. He combed his hair with his fingers — with both hands — giving away how anxious he was. Charlene knew there was more than he was telling her. “No, I won’t, Char. You need to be careful! He left a note in the suit jacket he left me, I called him—”

“Wait. Stop,” Char said, cutting him off and trying not to sigh in exasperation. She was getting tired of being constantly questioned over her boyfriend. He wasn’t dangerous, he wasn’t rude, he wasn’t going to kill her. Bats tried to actively keep her out of the dangerous details of his life; eventually, that would change… but wasn’t going to change yet. “This is about you two not communicating, again. Isn’t it?”

“I—,” he started. Charlene pointed her finger at him, hushing the alien. He shut up quickly at her silent threat. They both knew she couldn’t hurt him. Sometimes just the idea of her trying worked, though. He set his feet on the floor again. Char set her hands on her hips, taking a step back. 

“Deal with that on your own. Please. I don’t want to break up with him because you’re acting like a kid, Clark.” She wiped her face. She knew that Ma and Pa were watching them argue and she didn’t like it. She hated being the center of attention (one of the Wayne boys would say that was ridiculous, considering she was a newscaster). “I appreciate you worrying, but I know what I’m getting into.”

Clark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And what if you find out years along the way that you don’t want to be Bruce’s wife?”

“That’s why we’re taking it slow, Clark. I’m not going to abandon you like Lois did; I’m not going to do the same thing to him, either.” She looked at the clock. “It’s six in the morning. Let’s help with chores, yeah?”

“You’ve gotten quite commanding since I’ve last seen you,” Martha chuckled. “Does all this change come from that Bruce?” She used the name in a teasing manner, which made the younger woman laugh. The old mother set plates out for breakfast.

“Yes, it is,” Char said. “He and Clark work together. He’s not too thrilled with me being a hero’s partner, yet.” She shrugged, sitting down at the table. Johnathan clapped her shoulder lovingly. Clark sat down next to Pa. 

“They’re a good brand. If Clark trusts him enough to work with him, I don’t see why you can’t go with him.” Johnathan snickered. “Speaking of going with people. Son, have you heard back from that lovely Amazonian woman? You know, since you’re not with that reporter lady and, apparently, you gave us the wrong idea about Charlene. Honestly, I’m not too surprised about the Charlene bit; you two could never figure out if you were friends, siblings, or edging something more for as long as I can remember.”

“Pa, come on,” Clark whined. He crossed his arms, his cheeks colored with a red flush. Char didn’t know the Man of Steel would get embarrassed over Wonder Woman. She suppressed a giggle. And then he started stuttering. “Diana isn’t interested in me — Be-Besides, it doesn’t even matter. She’s a — She’s a very nice woman and I’m her colleague. That’s all. I’m going to steer clear of dating for a while. Sorry we didn’t tell you Char was seeing someone.”

“You should be sorry!” the old man said sternly. His smile never wavered. “What if I’m a grandpa and I don’t know about it? I understand Charlene not telling me, but you? Oh, Clark, come on!”

“Pa, it was her place to tell you.” Clark sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table’s edge. “I’ve been busy, too.”

“You never know if a relationship is working until you start talking about marriage, boy.” He held Char’s hand and Clark’s. Martha placed the last of the foodstuffs before the family. She sat down next to her son. “You two need to figure things out. You’re stuck with each other for life — you know you are. You’re going to have to trust each other. Now hush: let’s say grace.”

They all did as they were told. Johnathan prayed over their food, they ate, breakfast went by quickly. When they were cleaning up, Char’s phone went off. 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Ma asked.

Charlene read her screen. Her eyebrows drew together. “I’ll have to leave a day earlier than expected; there’s a change in my work schedule.” She frowned a little bit. “I’ll have to make a call.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Don’t worry about it,” Martha said. She patted her back. “Do what you need to.”

“Oh, I will,” she smiled, but in reality, she wanted to scold someone. She knew exactly what happened. 

Bruce changed her scheduling around without telling her.

°°°

After staying as long as she could — about a week — Char had to board a plane and find her way out of Smallville. Somehow, getting on the plane and sitting on it for five hours wasn’t the issue. She could afford to be patient when she knew she had a plane to catch. She had just enough experience to practically ignore the takeoff, the flight attendants, and the goodbyes.

That all went smoothly. It always did.

And then there was the airport after the flight.

Being at the airport was one of the worst experiences Charlene ever had. She hated air travel with every bone in her body, but there was no other way to get back to Metropolis: the trains didn’t go that far, the buses would have taken too long, and Charlene didn’t have enough money to rent a car. She felt safe flying when she had another person to count on; this time, she was alone. Standing in the middle of the bustling, glassy terminal made her heart pound. Was she supposed to call for a taxi? Walk home? She had driven to the airport with Clark. She had no ride.

Walking through gates and managing to find her luggage without difficulty, she passed every single crying child, scolding mother, complaining grandfather, and fussy TSA member. She had jet lag. She had a headache. She missed Bruce. She was a little bit irritated with him, too, but she could talk about it — calmly — at a later time.

Her eyes were clouding up with sleep. Her mind was wandering. She didn’t even know what time it was. She was trying her best to walk out of the terminal.

“Charlene,” a familiar voice called. She picked her head up, her heart swelling with gratitude. Dressed from head to toe in black, Bruce stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His feet were spread apart. He had that look about his face — the one he wore when he was amused but didn’t want you to know it. She all but sobbed as she ran to him.

“Oh, my goodness!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him. Bruce’s arms encompassed her. “You’re here! How?” She buried her face in his shoulder and let the hero keep her steady.

“Clark said you were leaving early,” Wayne laughed. He took her suitcase out of her hand, absentmindedly rubbing her back. Charlene thought she must have been dreaming. She nearly forgot about trying to ask if he rearranged her work plans, again. She opened her mouth, but Bruce was faster. “Before you ask, I didn’t mess with your schedule this time. I was working on a —”

“— project, yeah, yeah. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask the producer what happened,” Char sighed, taking in Bruce’s metallic scent. His shirt was scratchy, but soft from wear. She dug her fingers into it, closing her eyes and soaking in the warmth from her boyfriend. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. He broke the hug. “Let’s get in the car. The boys are going to be worried sick. I can call the studio, tell them you’re under the weather if you don’t want to go to work.”

“Are you okay, Bruno?” Char asked, yawning. She covered her mouth, minding to use the other nickname rather than just calling him “Bats” in public. “You’re edging a ramble; that’s unlike you.”

“I’m fine. There’s just some things we need to talk about; Clark doesn’t like it, despite how it could benefit our life.” 

“‘ Our life’?” she asked, voice slurring with the need for slumber. She took his hand. He held it back, but gently. He was being somber. Solemn. Serious. That usually only happened at home, behind closed doors. And behind another set of doors, he let himself truly smile. “I wasn’t aware you were thinking about a future so soon.”

“I am,” he said. His fingers tightened their grip on hers as they swung through the air. “I want to help you into all sides of my life, even for just a little bit. I heard perspective can help a marriage last longer.”

“Marriage?” Charlene laughed. She swung their hands. The corner of Bruce’s mouth twitched, again. She started grinning like a madman — no, like the Joker. “You intend to make me an honest woman?”

“In the end? Definitely.” Bruce walked her outside. It was raining. He opened an umbrella and handed it to her. Charlene took it in her hand and tried to hold it above Bruce’s head, but it didn’t work — he was too tall. He just shrugged at it, smiling at her softly. “Depending on when you’re ready, darling, I’ll propose.”

“‘Darling,’ now? My, my, my, aren’t we affectionate today, Mr. Wayne.” Charlene giggled and poked his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s not every day you’re calling me pet names and talking like that. In fact, I think the last time you said the words ‘I love you’ was April Thirtieth.”

“The thirtieth wasn’t that long ago,” he frowned. He walked her to one of his antique cars, opening the trunk and putting her suitcase in the back. She took down the umbrella and set it back there, too. “It’s only mid-June. It’s not like I never tell you.”

“Bruce, other couples say it daily,” Charlene smiled. The rain started pouring down harder. It was mussing Bruce’s neatly-combed hair and dripping down his nose. She could feel it soaking her back and coiling her locks. She was sure she looked just as messy as Bruce looked adorable. “I know you don’t need to say it for me to hear it, but it’s still nice.” She paused for a moment, playing with the locket. She knew that just this gift alone was worth a thousand “I love you”s. Then she added, “And rare. Clark thinks we haven’t said it at all.”

“Rare,” he repeated. He opened the car door for her. She slipped into the passenger’s side. “Nice to know. It’s not Clark’s business whether or not I tell you I love you.” 

“So what if it’s rare?” she asked with a permanent smile. “It just makes it even better to hear.”

“Are you going to cry when I deliver my wedding vows?” he asked in deadpan. He buckled in, turning the engine. “I have about seven years to prepare them; I’ll make sure to make them as sensitive as possible. The boys can say a line each toward the end of the ceremony.”

“Are we going to have a Jewish wedding?” she asked. “I’ve never been to one.”

“No,” he answered. “Not entirely. My parents were Jewish, but I… I don’t know. I haven’t done anything in regards to faith in years. I think we should just have a small ceremony for the boys and Clark and his parents. The only people who matter. We can blend in some Jewish tradition.”

“I can understand that,” she said quietly. She set her hands in her lap. She could already imagine a ring around her finger. Would it be an older design? Would it be intimate? With meaning behind it? Would it be big? Simple? “I don’t want anything huge, but I don’t want to rush into this. We have forever and a half, Bats.”

“We have longer than that, angel.” He looked behind him and pulled out of the parking lot. “I brought the boys from Gotham. I hope that’s not a big deal.”

“Did you get a hotel room?” Char looked out the window, then watched the wiper blades scrape water off the windshield. They made their way onto the highway in no time at all. “Or are they hanging out in the apartment?”

“A hotel room. I didn’t want to go into the apartment without asking.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel. “Was that an invitation, Miss Park?”

“Mr. Wayne, I am a woman of class,” she teased. She sat up a little. “Of course, you and the boys can stay. We can all sleep in the living room. You, the big, bad billionaire, can lay on the carpet floor next to the common damsel.”

Bruce scoffed. “As if there’s anything common about the woman I’m going to marry. Not everyone can be trusted. Not everyone can handle this life.” 

Char shrugged. “We didn’t meet like common people meet.”

“We certainly don’t love like normal people. Kent can’t seem to stop reminding either of us of that fact.” He sighed, cracking his neck. Char wondered how that phone call Clark had talked about a week ago went. “Is he in love with you? Is he worried? Whatever his issue is, I can’t figure it out. It won’t change the fact that you and I are romantically involved.”

“You have a taste for danger,” Charlene answered. She vaguely recalled hearing from Dick that Bruce used to have a relationship with Catwoman. Damian was the product of an affair with an evil mastermind’s daughter. Batman, for the majority of his life, had been married to the cowl. “That’s his issue. You have mass intellect and he has superpowers. He could catch me from the sky, but you can’t. I’m a casualty waiting to happen.” She laughed sadly. “In his mind, I’m not safe with the Batman.” Bruce exhaled slowly to show exactly how much he agreed with that idea. 

She could tell it was more than he wanted to admit. 

“That’s why I can’t propose yet.” Bruce kept his attention on the road. “I need to make sure that you know how to defend yourself. If something ever happened, you’d at least be able to throw a punch or two. When the need arose, we would be prepared to keep the family safe. Right now, you need constant surveillance; I know what that does to you.”

“Constant surveillance?” she questioned. “Why?” Her heart dropped several levels. Had she been right all along? Was she being duped or manipulated into giving Wayne easier access of keeping an eye on her? 

Bruce took  a while to answer, creating more and more fear in Char’s mind. Finally, he opened his mouth. “I want you to gather intelligence for the Justice League. Whenever you’re ready, you’ll train with the boys at Wayne Manor. Just say the word, baby.”

“Is… Is this the perspective?” she asked, wary and unsure. She felt her eyes burn and her throat tighten. She didn’t want to ask this, again, but she felt she didn’t have a choice. The last time she asked the question, Bruce had kissed her for the first time. It ended up just being a publicity stunt. “Are you sure you actually want to marry me? That this isn’t just to make sure I don’t accidentally tell the world Bruce Wayne is the Batman?”

Bruce’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Charlene, how many times do I have to explain myself? If I wanted to keep an eye on you, I wouldn’t be talking about making you my wife. I wouldn’t let you interact with my boys. I wouldn’t be setting up a whole room for you at Wayne Manor. I love you. I have no reason to be picking you up from the airport other than my own desire to make you happy.” 

“I know,” she sniffed. “I’m sorry. You were just acting funny. I didn’t know that you actually wanted to stay with me for… for as long as we live.” Charlene took a deep breath to calm herself. Man, did she feel like an idiot. “Bruce, you said you didn’t want to be part of that kind of domesticity two years ago. When did you decide you wanted to marry me?”

“Char, I didn’t need to decide. I still don’t want the picket fence type of life.” Bruce turned to exit the highway. “Our relationship has changed over the last two years. I would be lying saying I didn’t rely on you whatsoever.”

She swallowed. “You need me?”

He didn’t say anything. Yes. His cheeks colored. She let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. 

“I need time to think this all over, Bruce!” she exclaimed, slapping her palm to her forehead. Her pulse accelerated. Her legs felt tingly. “Marry you someday…”

“You don’t feel the same?”

She watched as the city blended into the street instead of Bruce’s unchanging expressions. If she wasn’t careful, he would turn investigator on her. “I had no idea you were so sure about us. It isn’t that I don’t feel the same, baby, I just need time to process this.”

“I understand.” He hummed. “Don’t tell the boys, yet. They might get excited.”

Charlene dropped her hands in her lap. She would be getting stepsons. She would have a husband. She would be a freelance spy. “I’m getting excited. I’m nervous, scared, sad, happy. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” 

Bruce pulled into a parking garage. He got out of the car and took her luggage out of the back. “Say you’re going to be sure before you tell me you’re ready to start training.”

Charlene got out of the car, too, taking Bruce by the hand once more. “I will.” She cupped his face. “I will, Bats. Now kiss me.”

°°°

Walking to the hotel room, using his stealthy steps across the hideous patterned carpet, Bruce found himself holding his breath. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were going to blow this out of proportion, make Charlene uncomfortable. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him — but then again, how could they not? This was his whole family’s future at stake. This was an opening to expand the family.  “Char.”

“Yeah?” she asked. She twisted her head to see him. “You okay?”

“Only tell them about the Justice League. Let’s ease into this.” He was practically pleading. He didn’t answer her question, but she nodded in understanding. Charlene took his hand and kissed the back of it, then dropped it.

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a winning smile. He managed not to sigh out the flood of fuzz that rushed in his soul. He was the Batman. He should be braver than to push Char away. 

“Ready?” he asked, smiling gently. 

“Ready.”

Wayne took her hand this time. He watched her, studied her. She had a lingering smile she was trying to wipe. She didn’t need to. Charlene was happy. When Char was happy, he was happy. Her hand shook in his; he was nervous, too. Committing to this would change so much. There would be no backing out. Even asking her to be on the same page could have scared her away.

He was quickly realizing he needed to trust Charlene. Whose life was going to be altered after all this? Whose life would never be the same once this process was over or ended? Not his. Not to the extent Charlene’s would be. She would be the first-time parent, not him. She would be the one who knew nothing about business or vigilante work, not him. She would be the one most affected. 

She deserved so much from him. He thought he was asking for greater than she could handle; Char was there to prove him wrong again. Again, again, and again. 

Bruce put on a big smile, opening the hotel room door. The boys all stood up to greet him, and all spoke over each other at the sight of Charlene: “You’re here!”; “How was the flight?”; “How long are you staying? Alfred’s—”; “We missed you!” They brought the woman into the residence with glee. 

He couldn’t be more grateful to the boys. They always did their best to welcome Char and put a smile on her face. They loved her too much for their own good. She loved them, too. Bruce brought her into the room, setting her bags on the queen bed where Damian had left his shoes. The boys were swarming her, hugging her and asking question after question.

“Hey,” Bruce said. “Give her space; we have to talk about something important.”

“What is it, Bruce?” Dick asked.

“Is something wrong, Father?”

Bruce beckoned the kids to the floor where they could all sit. He took Charlene, pulling her next to him. He held her hand. “We’re thinking about making Char part of the Justice League’s informant group. That way, she can see the world from our perspective. We’re hoping…” He trailed off, uncertain of how to finish.

“We’re hoping this can further our relationship and give me a chance to spend more time with you,” Charlene filled in. She smiled, moving under Bruce’s arm. He held her tightly. “We’re not getting married, yet; just thinking about how to make it work.”

Jason was the first to speak up. “So… after Selina and Thalia — sorry, Damian — you’re finally going to settle down?” He grinned. “You’re going to marry Charlene?”

“When it’s the right time,” he said. “Don’t tell Superman.” He chuckled a little at his own joke. At least the boys approved. They deserved to know what was happening. Damian scooted over to sit closer to Charlene, who ruffled his hair. 

“Are you going to stay at Wayne Manor?” Dick asked. He folded his hands in his lap. Out of all four of the boys, he copied his mannerisms the most. Secretive, stoic, at times, and would sometimes hum more than speak. The only difference between his mannerisms and the Batman’s was the smile that he allowed to grace his features.

Charlene shook her head. “No; not until we have everything sorted out. It’s probably unusually old school, but it’s what we want.” She smiled up at the Batman. He smiled down. Tim, quietly, went “Oooooh,” but that didn’t stop the small moment of perfection. As suspicious as it seemed, everything was perfect for a little while. A small pocket of happiness he had allowed himself.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t going to be so hard to relate to, anymore.

Damian took his chance to ask a question, practically jumping up and down with excitement. Tim pulled him down on his bottom, which made Dick and Jason laugh. He usually wasn’t so excited. Actually, none of the boys were. “Did you pick out a codename for her, Father?” Damian looked at Charlene. “What will we call her?” 

“Nothing.” Bruce shook his head, feeling a bit dissatisfied with himself. This whole situation was unorthodox for him, but that was something he could live with. It wasn’t unlike him to embrace change, but it wasn’t like him either. He had no idea what nonsense the boys would bombard him with once Charlene was gone for the night. He could guess… and his guess told him it wasn’t anything he’d enjoy. “She doesn’t have a codename, yet. As soon as she’s comfortable, I want you boys to start training her to fight.”

“And then what?” Jason asked. He crossed his arms. He leaned forward, looking between the two of them. It was as if he was trying to figure out how soon the relationship would end. After all, the Batman was alone. Selina didn’t work out, Thalia didn’t work out, countless others didn’t even get a chance. Charlene’s odds were stacked against her.

Yet he loved her more than either of those women.

Bruce laced his fingers with Char’s habitually. The domestic affection had only happened behind closed doors, and any kisses or lingering hugs happened within closed doors behind closed doors. She looked up at him with slight surprise when their fingers slid together. “And then we’ll figure things out as we go along.” 

Everyone made noises of excitement at that. The night went on in the hotel room, with giggling and laughter and games. Questions were passed back and forth. Food was ordered. Near midnight, Charlene had to go home. She had work the next day, and Wayne’s surprise had been laid in her home. Asking her to join the League hadn’t been the whole package; he and Clark both knew what was waiting for her there. He knew it was  a rushed decision — one of his stupidest ideas by far.

Legally, as a billionaire, he could practically do anything for Char. As Batman, he would kill anyone for her — her and the family. She was family, now. He wasn’t going to push her away.

Taking Char home was one of the first times Bruce had felt this nervous in years. There weren’t enough roses or lockets or even words to express how much he cared about her other than that paperwork he had hidden away.

It wasn’t a proposal. She would only have to sign it if she was ready. The rest of the work to make it real would come in time.

“Are you okay?” Char asked as he drove. “Your fingers are turning white on the wheel, Bats.”

“Fine,” he answered with a clipped voice. “Just tired.”

“You never get tired,” she reminded him gently. He could feel her eyes on him but he stared only at the road.  Metropolis was easier to drive through, but it only made the impending doom feel even worse. There was no possibility to stall. Not when he was certain.

“I’m fine, angel,” he insisted. They were quiet the rest of the ride, minus the exchange of a kiss and goodbyes when he dropped her off.

Now all he had to do was wait.

After all, he didn’t switch around her schedule for nothing.

°°°

After that worrying ride through the city, Charlene trudged through her door. She looked about the living room, noticing how something was different about her apartment. A few of the pillows had been moved — it was as if they’d been sat on. There was a letter and a gift bag on the table. She set her bag down on the floor. “What on Earth?” she muttered to herself.

Bruce’s metallic scent lingered in the air, but it could have just been from when she sat in his car. She walked past her old dog, rubbing his head and checking his bowl. The pet sitter had fed him, then… and he had been given a new collar. Hmm. That definitely wasn’t the pet sitter. She beckoned him over as she checked out the present on the table. 

The letter was the first thing she opened. As Char sank into the couch, she folded it open and quickly read the words. It was a brief description from a lawyer about what… what… 

“Legal marriage to Bruce Wayne would entail”?

Her heart stopped. She fished through the gift bag and found a marriage license in a different envelope. A pink glass rose. A small set of glass earrings and an article clipping of the night of the gala. If anyone ever accused Bats of being unromantic, they were seriously, seriously wrong. This wasn’t a proposal — she could see that. He wasn’t asking for this. He wasn’t telling her to try and find out. There was no trying! And along with all that silly stuff, there was a mask and a tag in his script that said, “Dark Angel – Can be changed”.

He just laid it all out for her, knowing this was their future. 

With clammy hands and a voice that was barely working, she dialed Bats’ number. It chimed for a few rings, but he eventually picked up. The familiar “Hello?” followed by, “Char?” was so sweet to hear, to let her know it was real… 

“I’m signing,” she said. “And I’m keeping the codename.”

[weepingvoidpenguin]

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 3)

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,129

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry for the long wait!! I’ve literally been sick for a week straight and the few days after I’ve had a pestering cough and I’ve been so busy I just haven’t had a moment to sit down and focus so I’m sorry if this is trash. I just wanted to get something out without making the chapter too long because if I had kept going it would’ve been upwards of 8k so I’m saving the rest for the next chapter. 

  “No,” he said, pulling the mask back down over his chin.

  “No?” You asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowed at his decision, “Why?”

  He turned around and started walking towards the edge of the roof, “I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  You scoffed, almost disbelieving that this was actually happening, “But you’re my soulmate, I’m supposed to know who you really are,”

  You took three long glides towards him and reached for the hem of his mask, momentarily not caring that he didn’t want to share his identity with you. He reached out of your grasp and spun to the side.

  “(Y/N), listen, I’m just not ready for you to know who I am yet,” he said, keeping a distance in case you tried to pry his mask off again.

  “You’re not ready?” You took a step back and turned away from him, walking back towards your fire escape, “So you can kiss so passionately that the stars align, literally, but you won’t tell me who you are? You want to keep this strictly between me and Spider-Man? Not whoever the hell you really are?” You snapped.

  Before, you hadn’t cared who your soulmate had been, you just wanted to see the stars that everyone else could see. But now that you finally met him, it was different. It was as though he were your source of light, that he was providing you the stars, and now he didn’t even want to tell you who he really was. You rolled your eyes and threw one leg over the side of the roof, making sure your foot was sturdy against the ladder and began to descend, not wanting to hear any of his excuses.

  He knew who you really were, wasn’t it only fair that you knew who he was?

  “(Y/N), wait!” He called, grabbing your hand that was still gripping onto the edge.

  “What?” You asked, glaring up at him but then looked away because even though you couldn’t see his face, it hurt to look at him.

  “Please, you have to believe there’s good reason,” he tried to elaborate but you held up the hand he was gripping to silence him.

  “Unless you’re gonna tell me what the reasons are, I’m done with this conversation,” You could feel the knot in your throat forming and you wanted to leave before it prohibited you from speaking.

  Spider-Man stood there, obviously chewing on his lip through his mask, but he remained silent. You looked him up and down, looked at all the places you wanted to touch and hold against you, all the places you wanted to kiss and explore and in that moment of observing him you felt your heart twinge, knowing that despite having kissed and literally feeling like the universe aligned for the both of you, he wasn’t yours. He wouldn’t be until he was honest with you, until he wanted you to know not just Spider-Man but his true self. You couldn’t have a night time relationship with someone.

  You wanted someone you could bring to movie night with your group of friends. Someone who you could introduce to your Mom. Someone that you could bring around Peter Parker so you could finally not feel the ache you always did whenever you saw him with Liz. Someone you could study with and learn with and grow with. But if you were being constricted to just night time Spider-Man and not allowed day time true identity, then you didn’t want that. You wanted him and all of him.

  And he wasn’t willing to give it to you.

  “That’s what I thought,” you said and descended down the ladder one step at a time until you reached the metal floor and hopped off.

  A loud thud landed next to you, rattling the fire escape and you gripped onto the railing to balance yourself.

  “Wait!” He held up his hands, stopping you in your tracks.

  You crossed your arms over your chest to prevent from reaching out to him, “Please, move,” you begged, the knot in your throat now becoming painful.

  You could see him open his mouth through his mask but no sounds came out and how you wished he had something, anything to say to make it all better. But he didn’t so he stepped aside and you made your way down to your window before hopping into your room and locking it behind you.

~

  The next morning you nearly slept through your alarm and ended up missing breakfast, as in you didn’t have time to grab a granola bar for the ride to school, and almost forgot your phone on the nightstand. You flew through the door and locked up behind yourself, knowing that no matter how late you were it was better than leaving your house unlocked.

  “So how was your date with Brad?” MJ asked once you plopped down at the lunch table. She had asked you earlier in the day and yesterday but you weren’t up for much talking so you promised you’d inform her at lunch.

  “Give me those details,” Ned joked.

  You avoided looking anyone in the eye and shrugged your shoulders, “It was okay,”

  “Just okay?” MJ asked with a quirked eyebrow.

  You nodded, wondering whether or not you were going to see Spider-Man again. That’s what had been consuming your mind all day. Whether or not you’d allow him to wretch your heart some more to spend time with him or if you were going to cut him off completely until he was ready to tell you who he was. But you knew you weren’t capable of doing that, your entire being yearned for him and leaving him yesterday night had been so difficult. It went against everything your body craved and plead for. It felt like you had ripped the strings right out of your heart and the only way to heal was to hold him. You knew it sounded dumb and cheesy but it truly was heart-wrenching to pull away from him, it took all the strength you had.

  And despite all of the pain and desire and yearning, you weren’t sure if it was requited. It was as though he had no real problem saying good-bye. You didn’t want to know who he was to expose him, you wanted to know so you could be with him. The real him. But it seemed like he hadn’t even considered telling you, like he wanted this secret between the two of you to continue.

  So when MJ asked if you would go on another date with Brad you nodded.

  “Possibly,” you said, “I mean, he really was a gentleman and I didn’t have a bad time,”

  “Why go on a date with him if you don’t even like him?” Peter asked, finally looking up from his twiddling thumbs.

  Everyone turned to you, waiting for an answer, “He’s . . . he’s a good distraction,” you admitted not elaborating.

  MJ squeezed your thigh, thinking you were talking about Peter and in a way you had been. Despite yearning for Spider-Man, you could feel the same present pull for Peter you always felt and it had confused you. You thought that once you met your Soulmate, your desire for anyone else diminished and your longing for them was gone. But it hadn’t disappeared, only intensified.

  You could barely look up at Peter and how his fingers intertwined with Liz’s. The familiar knot formed in your throat and you cleared it in an attempt to fight the intrusion. You trailed their hands up Peter’s arm and observed how his eyes and cheeks appeared sunken and how intense the dark circles were. It looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

  He kept his eyes down when you answered his question and Liz threw her arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to her before twisting his hair in her fingers. He sighed and closed his eyes, inviting the comfort she offered.

  The knot in your throat evolved into a pit in your stomach and you leaned up against MJ, more disturbed than ever with Peter and Liz being together. It just hadn’t felt right to you. Seeing them together. It never felt right but before you could just ignore them and shove down your feelings. Now they were more intense, more demanding of your attention. They sat at the base of your stomach and moved through your chest, grabbing hold of your body and consuming it in unease.

  The sick sensations controlling you had diminished the joy you’d felt earlier. You woke up this morning and noticed that everything was brighter. Everything that had been slightly dulled before now shown with a vibrancy that took your breath away. You had been walking around all day with your eyes wide open, indulging in the wonderous new intensities of the world around you. At one point, you’d asked MJ if she’d always been that pretty.

  And as much as you wanted to take everything in, the distress in your mind prohibited any of that.

  “He messaged me yesterday,” you said, remembering the text Brad sent you that you had been too preoccupied to respond to.

  “He did?” Peter’s head shot up, his loose curls now in his face.

  You nodded, “Yeah, he asked if I wanted to go see a new movie that was coming out this weekend,”

  MJ wiggled her eyebrows at you, “Those are the details I’m looking for. Looks like things between you two are getting serious,” she teased.

  For the first time that day you smiled, “Stop. It’s just a movie, besides we had agreed to go see it together,”

  “We still can.” She motioned towards everyone, “We can make it a group date,” MJ looked around the table for everyone’s approval and everyone seemed on board.

  “Then it’s a date,” MJ stated, motioning you to pull out your phone and let Brad know.

  You hesitantly messaged Brad about the group date and he instantly responded, saying he didn’t mind and that it sounded like a good idea. So the date was set, this Friday after school you’d all head to the theater.

  “Hey (Y/N),” Peter called for you and he couldn’t help but notice this was the second day in a row you’d tried dodging him.

  You kept going, only minimally slowing your pace so he could catch up, “What’s up?” You asked once he’d took his place beside you.

  “I just wanted to know if you were okay,” he asked, his eyes glued to his feet as you travelled through the hallway.

  “I’m fine,” you lied and a sting in your chest from being so close yet so far from Peter caused you to take a deep breath and compose yourself.

  He eyed you up and down, nervously chewing on his lip as he watched you. “How about we have a movie night tonight. Just me and you? Like we used to in Freshman year?”

  Your heart jumped at the idea and you turned to face him, “You sure?” You asked, walking through the door to your classroom, “Won’t Liz be upset?”

  Peter scoffed and his features brightened a bit, “We’ve been best friends longer than I’ve known her,” he said and took his seat next to you, “I’m sure she won’t mind,”

  Your smile reached your eyes and you nodded, “Okay, we can walk to my place after school,”

~

  “And what about this one?” Peter asked, holding up an old picture of you as a toddler.

  “It was my birthday,” you explained, letting him look at the photo in his hands.

  “Cute.” He chuckled, noting the frosting on your nose and how your tongue stuck out to try and lick it off.

  “This one’s my favorite,” you said, reaching up to carefully pry the picture off the wall. You had the photo to Peter and watched as his eyes scanned over the four goofy faces chosen for the camera. “We had gone to our first Decathalon tournament that day,”

  Peter trudged around the room and propped himself on your bed, “I remember,” he said, not taking his eyes off his dearest friends, “We were so nervous,”

  You nodded and sat next to him, “If only we knew we’d make second place,”

  “I miss those days,” he murmured and you giggled.

  “We’re still in those days,” you countered and grabbed the bowl of popcorn off your nightstand before offering him some, “We just can’t let them pass by so quickly,”

  He placed the photo back in its original spot on the wall and took his spot next to you on your bed before deciding what movie to watch. You sat together with the bowl of popcorn placed respectfully between the both of you and watched in peace.

  It’d been nearly months since you hung out with Peter alone. He’d been too preoccupied with the Stark internship to really spend time with anyone really, and it’d started to take a toll on you. Your weekly movie nights had been postponed so often that it’d just been you and MJ for a few weeks straight but she insisted on keeping it going less it die out altogether. So whenever Peter managed to spare some time for the simple folk, you’d relished in it. You’d ask over and over about the internship and if he liked it or learned anything new from it. Of course, he was always reluctant when answering but you didn’t mind the somewhat curt responses because each question elicited a new gleam in his eyes that you admired with vigor.

  “What are you looking at?” Peter asked once he’d noticed you’d stopped watching the film.

  “I’ve just missed you,” Jesus Christ. The heat to your face could not have come more quickly and you stammered in your embarrassment, “I-I mean, I miss hanging out w-with you. Not that I miss you- miss you. Well, I mean I do miss you but-”

  Peter’s amused smile grew with your stuttering and he chuckled, “It’s fine, (Y/N), I know what you meant,”

  No, you don’t, you thought.

  You rested against your headboard and grabbed some popcorn just to be doing something with your hands. Peter continued to watch you though and the words he wanted to say danced on the tip of his lips, moving fiercely to get passed his tongue.

  “So,” he started, once the urge overcame him, “how have you been recently?”

  You cocked your head to the side a little at the question but faced him all the same, “I’ve been okay,” you hesitated, not knowing what all you should tell him, “just lost somewhere in my better judgement,”

  He raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on.

  You sighed, “It’s just- it’s complicated.” You grabbed a mouthful of popcorn to stall.

  “Complicated in what way?” he asked, leaning in as if to avoid straining his ears.

  You crinkled your nose and stood up, beckoning Peter to follow as you went out onto your fire escape, your thick blanket in tow. You spread it out and folded it to add more cushion before sitting down and tapping the barren spot beside you. He sat down, a little closer than you two had been before, and watched you as you watched the setting sun and looked up towards the sky.

  “I just wanna hang out here, okay?”

  He nodded, not questioning your sudden desire for a change of scenery. “You okay?

  You nodded, not noticing how he watched you search the night sky for the boy in red and blue. “I feel torn,”

  “Between?” He asked, scooting closer to you.

  You pried your eyes from the slithering galaxies above you and looked at Peter, something who, despite the sky’s beauty and call, you’d prefer to look at. You smiled at him, loving how his chocolate brown eyes observed you and how his lips parted ever so slightly whenever he waited eagerly.

  “Between two guys,”

  Peter lurched back slightly with a sudden shake of his head and his eyebrows furrowed together, “What?” He asked, a tinge of hidden pain in his words, “Who?”

  You chewed the inside of your cheek and stared down at your feet, “There’s this one guy that I’ve liked for a long time and then there’s this other guy that I’m 99% sure is my soulmate,”

  “99%?” His tone peaked up.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous but MJ always told me that once you meet your soulmate you lose all attraction for anyone else,” you started, admiring the single curl that fell onto his forehead and fighting the desire to twirl it in your fingers, “But-”

  “But?” Peter intensified his look on you and you could swear he was starting to glare.

  “But even after I met that guy I still have feelings for this other guy and I don’t know why it’s happening I just know that it’s going to tear me apart,” you confessed, despising how you still desired to feel Peter’s lips caress your own.

  “Well who’s this guy?” His expression softened a bit but there was a twinge of secrecy hidden.

  “I-I can’t tell you, it’s a secret and even I don’t really kn-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence, wondering how you could explain that you met your soulmate and still have no idea in hell who he is.

  “No, who’s the other guy?” Peter asked.

  “The other guy?” You chirped back, confused as to why he would much prefer to know about, well him, rather than your soulmate.

  Peter leaned back a little and his eyes darted everywhere except for you, “Yeah, well, I mean, there’s gotta be something special about the person that isn’t your soulmate if you still have feelings for them,”

  Your eyes widened and now it was your turn to panic. Who’s the other guy? You couldn’t very well say it was him, especially considering how wrapped around Liz’s finger he is. He would cut you off right then and there, apologizing about how he couldn’t do that to Liz and how he only has eyes for her. So you scrambled up the only logical excuse you could come up with and blurted it out.

  “It’s Brad,” Brad? You thought. You couldn’t have lied about anyone better?

  “Brad?” He repeated after you, as if not believing your words.

  “Yyesss,” you drawled out, trying to convince yourself that was the best route to take, “It’s Brad,”

  “Why?” He asked incredulously.

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you like Brad?”

  “I don’t know!” You suddenly burst, the inner turmoil of having feelings for Peter but knowing that you’ve met your soulmate building up inside of you. “It’s not like I want to like them both, I just do!”

  “Well shouldn’t you only want your soulmate?” He asked.

  You rolled your eyes, hugging yourself, “Yes, Peter, hence why I’m torn,”.

  “But it doesn’t make sense, why would you want anyone but your soulmate? That’s never been how it’s worked. I don’t want anyone but yo-” Peter shut himself up, cursing himself for letting the words slip out so easily.

  “Yeah, I get it. It’s you and Liz against the world, Peter.” You scoffed, feeling your insides beginning to boil, “It’s always been you and Liz!” You shouted, not caring if your neighbors heard because something about those words stung in ways they hadn’t before.

  “When you meet your soulmate it’s like the universe itself has guided you towards each other in that moment and nothing feels more right or perfect than you two. And I have this pulling inside my body to be with him but he can’t even be honest with me! How am I supposed to be with someone who can’t tell me the truth?” You practically yelled, now pacing back and forth on the fire escape.

  Peter winced at your words but bit his tongue and let you continue.

  “And then, there’s yo- uh, I mean, Brad and I cannot get him out of my head. I need him here just as much as I need my soulmate here but that’s not how soulmates work. I’m supposed to meet him and forget that anyone else ever existed! And to top it all off, it feels like neither of them wants me back!” The tips of your fingers burst with heat and the light up above glowed with an intensity you’d never witnessed.

  You peaked up at the sky to search what called your attention and found that the thousands of clear stars that you’d seen for the first time last night glistened with a blinding radiance. You heard the screeching of brakes from cars below and horns going off, warning nearby drivers that they were getting too close. You pulled your hand up and hovered it over your eyes, wishing the light would go away, and just in that instant, it did.

  The sky dimmed back to its usual, but very unusual, magnificence. The balls of gas in the sky providing their proper planets light and warmth had soothed to their ordinary state of existence. You knew that others could not see the sky in the same way you did as you’d never heard anyone describe it to you before and you’d never seen pictures that could compare to what was above you. But you hoped beyond hope that everyone saw what you did.

  Tell her.

  The same voice from last night whispered but it echoed from the buildings surrounding you. You whirled around to find its source but knew you should’ve been looking up as that’s where the calls have been coming from. You didn’t know how you knew, you just knew.

  Peter mumbled under his breath behind you and you looked down at him, “Tell me I’m not crazy and that you saw that too,”

  He nodded, getting up from his place on the floor and holding out his hand before retracting it quickly, “We should go back inside,”

  You nodded before throwing a look over your shoulder at the dazzling sky above and ducked under your windowsill.

~

  Friday came around slower than expected. Not because the days went by slowly but because the nights trudged at their leisure pace. Every night that week you watched out for the friendly neighborhood hero but he was nowhere to be seen and that desire in your chest twisted to pain, causing your tears to be the only thing that kept you company at night.

  Maybe you’d been too hard on him. Maybe he had good reason not to tell you who he was. You should’ve been patient and have waited to hear what he had to offer but you hadn’t given him the chance. You punished yourself every night for leaving things the way they were, making him believe he was unwelcome due to your harsh words. In all honesty, if he had shown up your pride would’ve taken over and you’d have given him a hard time for a while but you’d eventually move on because you’d just be happy that he was there.

  Your lips had been red and swollen by the time Friday night came around from all the biting in anticipation. MJ had followed you home and made you change your perfectly acceptable outfit into something a little more risqué. She hadn’t usually been like this but you were pretty sure she was living vicariously through you since she couldn’t see her significant other very often so you let her play the game her way.

  “Hey!” Ned called you over once he saw you at the entrance of the theater.

  Brad stood beside Ned, Peter and Liz while you and MJ walked up to them. You tried to fight the sinking stones in your stomach but to no avail. Watching Liz fawn over Peter, leaning against him, caused nothing but your unease. You stopped in your tracks as you attempted to regain your breath, hating how watching them together could have such a negative effect on you.

  You grabbed MJ by her elbow and held her in place by your side, “Can we please just go home and watch something on Netflix?” You plead.

  She shook her head, “Had you asked any earlier I would’ve said yes but we’re already here and if Brad sucks that much then-”

  “It’s not Brad,” you interjected and a look of understanding passed over her face.

  Her hands reached out and held both your upper arms, “(Y/N), I get that seeing Peter with Liz is difficult for you, I really do, but maybe tonight will be the first step in getting over him. Maybe being with Brad will help the emotions fade, ya know?”

  You sighed, feeling her words go in one ear and out the other, “I guess,”

  “Listen, if you really feel uncomfortable then we can go, no questions asked. But if you can pull through this and potentially see yourself having a good time, then try,”

  She took your hand in hers and led you towards the group, greeting them all once you had reached them. Brad nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another when you greeted him and he hesitated before pulling you in for a light embrace.

  Normally, you’d have been uncomfortable considering your lack of interest but something about his hold was actually comforting and you hugged him back, appreciating the comfort he offered.

  “What was that for?” You asked after you pulled away.

  “You just looked like you needed it.” He shrugged his shoulders.

~

  “So, what’d you think?” Ned asked upon leaving the theater.

  “Predictable,” You and MJ said in unison then hit shoulders lightly in a teasing manner.

  Sometime throughout the movie you had gripped onto Brad’s hand and though it did nothing for you romantically, it did wonders for you platonically. He had a strange soothing ambiance about him that drew you in and tonight you really needed as much comfort as you could get.

  Peter eyed your intertwined fingers and his grip on Liz’s own hand tightened as he felt his anger build. Ned elbowed Peter lightly when he caught Peter staring at you. Ned motioned to Liz, reminding Peter to calm down around her.

  You pushed the door open and let the cool air engulf you, sending a shiver up your spine. You looked over your shoulder towards Brad and smiled, thankful for the distraction for the night. He had offered a miniscule amount of contentment by making you feel wanted, maybe not by the people you actually wanted those feelings to emit from but the attention was nice anyway. Nice but wrong.

  It could never compare to how perfect it felt to be in Spider-Man’s arms. You couldn’t forget the heat his body emitted and his body pressed against you had made you come to life in ways you didn’t think were possible. You winced at the memory, the tugging that had been lulled by the distraction of the moving pictures now up front and center. Because despite how much you wanted to immerse yourself in all that was Spider-Man, the sensations were quickly preyed upon by the pain it had caused you to pry yourself away.

  Your fingers danced at your side, tapping along your thighs as the memory of the warmth they radiated when you’d touched Spider-Man crawled its way back in. You stopped mid pace and threw your head back, taking in the fresh air and observing your surroundings, hoping to see a figure swing across the sky.

  “Looking for something?” Peter creeped up behind you and you jumped and blushed.

  “Just taking in the scenery.” You motioned to the cloudless sky and counted all the constellations you could remember off the top of your head.

  Peter watched as you observed the stars above you, loving how your eyes sparkled brighter than the endless galaxies ever could. His eyes trailed the curl of your smile before resting on the curve of your lips and he was brought back into the moment where those very lips were pressed against his own.

  He could feel his eyebrow twitch as he resisted the desire, no, the need, to feel them again. He wanted to roll the skin between his teeth, pressing you tight against him like the first time. When the universe had revealed you two to each other. He longed to be back in your arms and to have you back in his. He wanted to feel your breath blow against his cheek, hear the quiet moans you tried to withhold from his ears, he wanted to relive it all.

  It had been hard to stay away from you ever since the revelation but he knew your character; you were stubborn and you wouldn’t take now for an answer. You’d pry his identity out of him until you were disappointed to see the man under the mask. No, he had to stay away from you. To keep this fantasy going for as long as possible. He didn’t want you to pull away once he’d revealed himself. He wanted to tell you everything, practically had to actually, but his fear made him bite his tongue when you turned away from the sky and rested your gaze on his face.

  God, how he loved your smile. It warmed his chest and managed to slightly subside the overbearing want to overwhelm himself with you. With everything about you. From the sparkle in your eyes down to the labyrinth that was your mind. He wanted it all.

  He looked down at the small gap between the two of you and felt his fingers twitch to reach out to yours. You followed his gaze to the empty space and watched as his fingers extended out to yours without every leaving his side. Your heartrate sped up and you could practically hear your blood pump through your ears and you stretched your fingers out to his own.

  “The Little Dipper’s always been my favorite constellation.” Brad emerged from the space between the two of you and you cleared your throat, blinking away the haze of temptation from your eyes.

  You giggled at Brad’s comment and Peter rolled his eyes, blowing the single strand of hair out of his face, “It’s not a constellation,” he murmured.

  Brad furrowed his eyebrows and glared at Peter.

  “It’s an asterism,” you quickly offered, trying to ease Brad’s confusion.

  He nodded and offered you his hand. You peeked over his open palm and glanced at Peter, waiting for who knows what, honestly. Maybe a protest? For him to offer his hand instead? But Peter said nothing, only taking Liz’s hand in his own when she rejoined you so you smiled at Brad despite the twist in your chest and grabbed hold of his hand.

~

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[tiifalockhart]

Another Chance

@ironbar36 asked: Was wondering if you could do a bit where Cloud meets a Sage who warns him about Aeriths death but also knows Cloud has had visions of such happening but tells him sternly there still time to change history and events to be

Word Count: 8k

A/N: I didn’t put a pairing with this, even though it seems to be heavily influenced by one, because I mostly wrote this in terms of story-line and character development. This actually took like two and a half months to write hahahahahah I’m so tired

Masterlist || Ao3

These visions were something similar to a curse.

Cloud could hardly remember when they began. He remembered running into that girl in Sector 8, but it felt like these visions had been happening a lot longer. He kept thinking about her. Considering she was the one in those visions, he was worried about her, even though she was nothing but a stranger. 

Those visions of her kneeling on the altar in an unknown temple, the white materia falling from her bow, the bloody sword pierced through her back, they all haunted him like never-ending nightmares. He was forced to relive those visions randomly. The smallest things would trigger them. The sound of a pin dropping, or the wind blowing in a certain direction, it was torture. 

He didn’t know how to stop him. They hurt his head so much. It was painful to bear over and over again. Sometimes, some visions would hurt more than others. That was usually when he saw that sword pierce through her stomach again. Cloud knew that he had to do something, but what could he do? He didn’t even know the girl’s name. 

It wasn’t until after the bombing of Reactor 5 that Cloud saw her again. The moment his eyes opened in that misplaced meadow, a wave of pain came over his skull. He stared up at the girl who was gently coaxing him out of his unconsciousness, a glint of recognition in his eyes. She was the girl from Sector 8, the ones in his visions. A shaky breath left his lips as his eyes fell on the pink bow decorating her braid, one of the many visions of her death flooding his mind. He suddenly felt sick, his skin burned because of it. 

Her voice was so sweet, though. It was as sweet as honey, her eyes were bright with hope and innocence, it pained him to see what was to come of her. As he sat up in the flowers, a soft giggle left the girl’s lips. She was kind and beautiful... Cloud learned that her name was Aerith. She was... Odd, to say the least. 

After seemingly countless fights and protecting Aerith, through exploring the Sector 5 and 6 slums and meeting too many people, Cloud sighed in relief as they finally arrived at the playground in the night. Aerith wouldn’t let him get away that easily, he knew it wouldn’t be as simple as a goodbye. 

Being dragged into this fiasco at Wall Market was pretty eye-opening for Cloud. He found himself growing closer to Aerith, which scared him. He didn’t want to lose her. He wanted to protect her and save her from this fate he saw. Through the laughter and rushes they both shared, occasional anxiety would wash over him. His smile would fade for a moment and his head would hurt again, but Aerith quickly snapped him out of it over and over again. 

By the end of the night, he was sick because of this desire to save Aerith. He felt dizzy with each vision that overtook him, he was blind to anyone else but Aerith, it suddenly became all about her. The visions weren’t making sense anymore. Nothing was making sense anymore. 

Tifa seemed to notice that something was off. She would ask questions, but inevitably, Cloud would brush them off. She wouldn’t understand, would she? How are you supposed to tell someone that you’ve been having visions of someone else’s death, and expect them to believe it? 

That night, when the plate fell onto the Sector 7 Slums, reality hit Cloud like a brick. He was focusing on the wrong things this whole time. He knows he needs to save Aerith... But there’s more to it. He hasn’t been looking at the bigger picture. In order to save Aerith, he needs to stop Shinra, to stop... Fate. He realized this when he saw Aerith on the other side of that screen with that Turk. Anger and anxiety flooded his veins as he stared in disbelief. She sacrificed herself for Marlene... Did she not know what becomes of her?

Before he knew it, getting Aerith back from Shinra was his top priority. Cloud couldn’t risk losing her. Not like this. 

He remembered coming to Aerith’s house again so Barret could have some relief in knowing that Marlene was okay. Cloud couldn’t take his mind off of the current circumstances. Not knowing what Shinra was doing to Aerith made him more and more anxious to hurry to her side. He didn’t want to imagine what those sick scientists were coming up with this time. 

He couldn’t sit still for too long. While Tifa rested and Barret comforted Marlene, he approached Elmyra with questions concerning Aerith. Why would they want her? What’s so special about her? That second question has been in his mind for too long. 

Upon learning about Ancients and that Aerith was the last of them, it felt like something clicked in the back of his mind. Was Aerith the one giving him these visions? Was she aware of what was going to happen? Was all of this her calling out to him? His troubled expression never left his features as they all went to rest that night. 

There were so many unanswered questions racing through his mind that night. He was completely restless, there wasn’t any point of trying to sleep anymore. As he sat up, he felt himself being called outside. Glancing over at the others sleeping, he made sure they were well asleep before carefully sneaking out of the room. 

Seeing Aerith standing on the small hill in front of her house felt almost like a dream. A shaky breath left Cloud’s lips as he approached her. His heart was racing as he tried to search for something to say. Finally, he took another step closer to her. “What do I do?” He asked, his voice shaking. 

Aerith turned towards him slowly. “What do you do... That certainly is a good question.” She replied, her brows furrowing. “I’m sorry. I don’t think that I can help you with that.” 

Cloud felt his heart sink as his throat tightened up. He nodded slowly and forced himself to turn away from her. “We’ll come find you, after that, we can figure it out.” He promised, frowning as he looked up at the plates above. 

It felt like time was moving slower without Aerith around. It felt like there was a lifetime between when Aerith was taken away and when her and the group reunited in Shinra. The rush he felt when he saw her, Cloud wanted to run to her and embrace her, but there wasn’t any time for that. The next step was escaping Shinra without losing anyone. 

As if passing through Hojo’s traps and sick and twisted experiments wasn’t enough, the arrival of Jenova and Sephiroth was enough to cause Cloud to dread the future. When his eyes fell to the long sword piercing through the President’s chest, a flash of a similar sword through Aerith’s torso flashed in his mind. It was painful, watching as the lifeless body of the once-President fall to the floor, the visions of Aerith parallel to it. Cloud wanted to chase after him, he wanted to end this before Sephiroth had the chance to think about hurting Aerith. After chasing him onto the balcony, instead of being greeted by Sephiroth, he found himself facing off against the Vice President. When will it end...?

Cloud quickly instructed for Barret and Tifa to get Aerith out of there. It sounded selfish, but he was only focused on protecting Aerith over anyone else. After they were gone, he faced off against Rufus Shinra for what felt like ages. His damned dog gave him a headache, and the endless taunting wasn’t any better. After the President was inevitably was defeated, Cloud knew that they needed to escape now before anything else happened. They all took off through the building, taking some of the vehicles on display at the front to escape. 

The cloud of shadows surrounding the Shinra building was a good cover for them to safely escape. After picking off any stragglers that happened to be following them, they arrived at the end of the highway. The looming figure at the end forced them to come to a stop. Sephiroth stood there, the long sword gleaming in the moonlight. Cloud stood in front of Aerith, shielding her body with his own just in case. 

With the formation of the portal, the group shared uneasy glances. None of them knew what they were getting themselves into, they simply knew that Sephiroth couldn’t exist. As he silently emerged into the darkness, Cloud tensed and found himself taking slow steps towards the darkness. He could feel the overwhelming desire to end this washing over him. 

Before he could take another step, he felt Aerith’s hands grab onto his arm. “Wait!” She called out over the wind, causing him to turn towards her. She wore a conflicted and concerned look, as if even she was unsure of the future. “This is the point of no return.” She explained, removing her hands slowly. He noticed the slight lingering of her hands on his arm, causing him to take a step back and face the portal again. 

Aerith hesitantly approached it, her eyes examining the darkness and whispers surrounding it. Slowly, she lifted her right hand, her eyes falling shut as she muttered something similar to a pray under her breath. A light emitted from her hand, it slowly transformed the portal into a glowing white gateway. Every question they had remained unanswered as they hesitantly took steps towards the gateway. Aerith said something about freedom, but Cloud could hardly hear her over the wind and cries of the planet. Freedom.... From what? From the fate that lies before them? From the shadows? From Sephiroth? He couldn’t begin to guess the answer to such an ominous question. 

The road before them was set, though. They had to enter into... Whatever was inside that gateway. Whatever waited for them on the other side, they had to end it. Cloud led the way. He stretched out his hand in front of him and hesitantly stepped inside of the light, feeling himself become engulfed by it. 

When they exited from the other side, the world around him looked exactly the same. The hair on the back of his neck stood, as if he sensed danger, but nothing was visible yet. No Sephiroth, no shadows, nothing. It was Midgar, as if nothing had happened. 

Suddenly, a purple aura began to swarm above him. The whispers began to flock around it, their forces being enough to create a tornado. Before any of them realized it, they were swept up high into the sky. When Cloud’s eyes opened again, he was staring down at Midgar, the lights of the cities nearly blinding him. For once, the numbness that had taken over him disappeared, the weight of this life-or-death situation hitting him hard. He landed carefully on a floating platform, his eyes flicking up to the beginning formation of a giant black figure. The whispers crowded around this black hole, until it eventually formed into... An “Arbiter of Fate” as the others called it. 

This was a battle of a lifetime. This was supposed to change everything. Was this how Cloud was supposed to save Aerith? There wasn’t much of a choice but to end this quickly. Cloud ended up being separated from the rest of the group for quite a bit, he was forced to fight off the Whispers that surrounded him. His mind screamed that he needed to find Aerith, it was like he had a sixth sense, that he knew she was in danger. He desperately fought off the rest of the Whispers, taking off towards the giant figure before him. As he approached it, the figure let out a loud and deafening cry. A throbbing pain shot through his brain, forcing him to fall over and grip his hair. The image of Aerith on that altar again flashed through his mind. He couldn’t take it anymore... He had to fix this. 

Cloud forced himself up and ran through any visible pathways, the terrifying screams from the figure causing his head to pulse more. It wasn’t until he was reunited with Barret and Tifa that he was able to focus again. There wasn’t much conversation to be had, they all knew what they had to do. 

That’s when the battle of fate began. 

It seemed to last for ages. Cloud, Barret and Tifa fought with all of their strength until the giant Arbiter was weakened. Finally seeing some progress, they were about to continue on, until a familiar voice called out to them. The three of them turned to see Aerith and Red XIII running towards them. Cloud felt relief washing over him, he wanted to reach out and embrace her, but there wasn’t any time for that. 

Before another word could be spoken, a light emitted from the Arbiter. The moment Cloud’s eyes closed to shield his eyes from it, a different vision appeared. This wasn’t Aerith, it was Red instead...? What could that possibly mean?

When his eyes opened again, he saw a giant arm falling towards them. Thinking quickly, he dove out of the way. Once again, him and Aerith were separated. He began to feel sick over it. It felt like he had static in his head as he turned to continue fighting. It was getting harder and harder to fight. 

After another long time of fighting, another bright light formed from the palm of the demonic Arbiter. It once again engulfed him, but this vision was different from the previous two. A giant meteor raged its way into the Earth, the flames of it destroying everything in the proximity of the blast. 

Cloud’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as he returned from his dazed state. Is this really what the future holds? The end of the world? How does Aerith play into this? There were so many answers racing through his mind that wouldn’t be answered for now. All he could do was push on with fighting and ask questions later. 

The battle was almost finished. Red and Barret were fending off the Arbiter at the front lines while Cloud, Aerith and Tifa finished off the rest of the Whispers. With each hit, Cloud felt himself getting closer to the end of the tunnel. Surprisingly though, this didn’t feel like the end. 

The moment the last blast from Barret hit the Arbiter, there was another burst of light. Cloud’s eyes fell shut, the light nearly blinding him as he held his hand up towards it. 

It felt like time had stopped around him. He was no longer at Destiny’s Crossroads. He was... Somewhere else. His eyes adjusted to the bright white surrounding him. It looked like he was in some forest, a small lake washing up at his feet. A sense of dread formed in his chest as he looked around, his eyes landing on two figured in the middle of the lake. He called out to them, his voice cracking from the anxiety filling his veins. Cloud began to run towards them, fighting against the water as he attempted to reach them. Before his hand could barely brush on the shoulder of the standing figure, his eyes flew open again. 

He was back on the battlefield, a sick feeling in his stomach as he watched the Arbiter slowly fall and dissipate. The light from the Arbiter surrounded them, engulfing them into a white vortex. It was... Oddly calm. Perhaps this was considered “the calm before the storm.” Before he knew it, the white vortex was slowly taken over by an orange fire. In front of them, the vortex quickly disappeared and was replaced by the envisioned meteor, the flames from it causing Cloud’s skin to burn. This scene was exactly like the one from the simulation in Shinra, except... More real. The wind coming off of the meteor entering the atmosphere cased several tornadoes around them, it was hard to continue standing with that kind of force fighting against them. The fire emitting off of the meteor and the land around them was blinding, Cloud could barely see the shadow forming before it. 

Suddenly, shadows poured out of the fires, all of them flowing into a purple light shining from the figure. It resembled a snake, the way that all the shadows and fire were sucked up in an orderly line into the heart of the figure. The chaos that surrounded them was gone as quickly as it started, nothing was left but the wreckage from their first fight and the strange silver-haired figure. As Cloud stared at it, realization hit him. “Sephiroth...” He hissed, feeling his heart sink at the sight of that damned twisted smirk. 

The former-SOLDIER stared down at him, his cat-like eyes examining each of them, finding every weakness and strength within seconds. No words needed to be spoken to know how terrifying this man was. His gaze alone could strike fear into anyone who dared to look. With a slow lift of his hand, the top of the Shinra building, currently lost in limbo, floated above their heads. With the motion of his hand, it flew down at the group. Each of them took off in different directions, dodging the assault. 

Once again, they were separated. Cloud couldn’t see anyone through the chaos. He dodged each piece of the wreckage thrown at him, until he finally landed on a stable platform. In front of him, the silver haired male slowly descended from the sky, the air around them growing intense. Not a single word was spoken between them before Cloud attacked. He’s had enough of everything. Enough of fighting, enough of these visions, enough of fate in general. If this was how it was going to end, then so be it. 

The fighting lasted for so long, he had forgotten about almost everything. It wasn’t until the rest of the group stepped in that he backed off from offensive fighting. With everyone there, fighting got considerably easy. It seemed that all of them were frustrated and ready to be over with this battle, emotions were high and adrenaline was pumping. Maybe this wasn’t so much of a lost cause after all. 

The battle quickly turned around. Avalanche pushed against Sephiroth, fighting him back until he was making desperate moves. It wasn’t like him to fight desperately like this, could this mean progress? Sephiroth somehow was quickly overwhelmed, forcing him to back off. The final hit was landed by Aerith, a strong and mastered thunder spell discharged from her staff. Sephiroth suddenly split into many Whispers, all of them acting erratically. With a burst of light, the world around them was destroyed, and they were all returned to their dimension, right at the end of the highway where they left off. 

...Except for one. 

When Cloud’s eyes opened again, he was faced with a beautiful scenery of the universe, the stars in the sky unmoving, as if the world had stopped turning. As he stood there, he focused on the galaxy, until he heard footsteps beside him. Quickly, he grabbed his sword and faced the ex-war hero again, his glare hardening as the other moved closer. 

Before Cloud could open his mouth to say anything, the agonizing pain from his visions pounded through his head. He reached to grip onto his hair again, but was stopped by the burning sensation of Sephiroth gripping his hand. He tugged against the grip, but found it useless as his mind raced from the pain. His head slowly lifted, their gazes meeting. Cloud’s insides twisted painfully from the crazed look in Sephiroth’s eyes. 

There was no conversation to be had. Cloud ripped his arm out of Sephiroth’s grip as soon as the pain became manageable and backed away, holding up his sword towards Sephiroth. He couldn’t explain why he began to listen to Sephiroth. It was hard to hear him over the pulsing in his ears. One line stuck out to him specifically, though. “Let us defy destiny... Together.” He backed away and hesitated. Destiny... Aerith flashed through his mind. That’s right. He was momentarily blinded, but the goal was to save Aerith, wasn’t it? He shook his head and glared at Sephiroth. 

Yet another fight broke out. Granted, this one wasn’t as extreme as the previous ones, Sephiroth seemed to get bored fairly quickly. The moment Cloud lost his sword, Sephiroth should have killed him. He should have been dead. So why didn’t Sephiroth kill him?

“Seven seconds till the end.” His voice was close. “Time enough for you. Perhaps.” Cloud couldn’t move, all he could do was listen. “But what will you do with it? Let’s see.” The presence behind him was gone. When Cloud turned, all that was left was a black feather, slowly floating to the ground behind him. 

All it took was another blink for Cloud to return to the highway. His eyes opened to see the sun beginning to rise. As his eyes fell down to his hand, he saw the same feather in it that Sephiroth had on his wing. Staring at the feather caused an unmeasurable amount of anger to swell inside of him. Memories of his past, of what Sephiroth did to him and the rest of the world flash in his mind. His mother was gone because of Sephiroth, Nibleheim is gone because of Sephiroth. He gripped the feather and watched it dissipate into a shadowy substance, blowing away in the wind. It was time to go after Sephiroth and finish this for good.

On their way to Kalm, the others seemed to grow more and more concerned for Cloud. After that last battle, he seemed to be more... Unstable. His need to protect Aerith, as well as kill Sephiroth seemed to haunt him. No one knew where this hatred seemed to come from, they didn’t know of the visions that harassed him at every waking moment. He hardly let Aerith out of his sights, any creature they came to face, Cloud was shielding her or making up some kind of excuse for her to not fight. 

Tifa was the first to notice. She’d never actually witness Cloud being like this towards anyone. She knew there was something more than just a petty crush. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but she knew that there was something more at play. 

Any time Tifa questioned him about it, the conversation would always end quickly. Even if it was a simple “Are you okay?”, Cloud would always deflect it and usually ask her in return. She couldn’t explain how it made her feel. She was worried and concerned for both Cloud and Aerith. He knew something that everyone else didn’t. 

It was true. The visions of Aerith’s death, the visions they received from the great battle against fate still played over and over in his mind. They were no longer painful, but instead, they were calling out to him. They were calling for a change. But how...? He felt sick whenever he thought about the end of the world. 

There seemed to be an uncomfortable and tense air around the group now. It was hard to explain, but it was pretty obvious that some of them were keeping secrets. It wasn’t until they reached Kalm that it was brought up. Cloud ended up being pushed into a corner, the group wanted to know why they were going after Sephiroth, apart from the obvious reasons. They assumed that there were more personal reasons as well, considering Cloud and Tifa had spoken about their hatred for him. 

Cloud had no choice but to open up about the events of Nibleheim. He recited everything he could remember, from embarking to Nibleheim, to arriving to the town. He explained Sephiroth’s quick descent into insanity, outlining the events in order. He told the story honestly, but Tifa was quick to notice that the story was full of holes. Holes as big as forgetting an entire person all together. She didn’t know how to bring it up, but Cloud seemed to be completely unaware of this. Could this be why he’s acting so odd?

The group felt so out of sync on their way forward. Cloud seemed extremely paranoid and worried, while Tifa seemed to trust him less yet become more concerned. Aerith seemed to know the most out of everyone, yet she refused to let in on those secrets. The tension between them all caused many failed battles and uncomfortable silences. 

Eventually, after being led by Red XIII, they arrived to Cosmo Canyon. They all seemed to separated Red XIII- or Nanaki running off to greet his old family, Barret reminiscing on his past teammates, and Aerith going to visit the elders of the village. Cloud began to follow her, but was promptly stopped by Tifa. Her eyes held a gleam of concern and worry as she stood before him. “Cloud... Are you... Nevermind, I’m too afraid to ask.” She admitted, turning away from him. Her discomfort was quite obvious. 

Cloud frowned as he looked down at her. “What is it?” He asked, reaching out to her. He hesitated and pulled his hand back, biting his lip. 

Tifa turned to look back at him, a slightly nervous expression on her features now. “Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked, knowing that she’ll get the same answer as before. 

A slightly suspicious look formed on Cloud’s expression. He knew there was more to it, but Tifa was too stubborn to allow herself to say it. Before he could really answer, Tifa took his hesitant silence as an answer and excused herself. Their relationship was so estranged now. Where did it go wrong?

When he turned back to go after Aerith, his eyes scanned the premise of the town. There was no sign of her. Surely, she’ll be alright. He couldn’t help the anxious feeling in his chest, though. 

The group met back up at a campfire that night. The flames from the fire slowly floated up into the sky, the warmth gently washing over them. All of them were silent for the most part, no one dared to say anything. Everyone, besides Nanaki, seemed to be tense. 

Cloud moved to sit next to Aerith, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he tried to find something to say. She eventually began conversation. “I spoke to the village elders today.” She began, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrists. “They told me that I’m the last Ancient... Or Cetra.” She murmured, a pained expression crossing her features for a moment. “They told me what I have to do... To stop Sephiroth.” She whispered, her voice so low that Cloud almost missed it. 

He looked over at her, noticing a determined look in her eyes. She was talking about the meteor, wasn’t she? Cloud wasn’t sure anymore. Aerith seemed to know more than anyone else. 

The next day, the group began to set off once again to find Sephiroth. Aerith said that they had to go to this... Temple. Cloud felt his stomach drop at the mention. This wouldn’t be the place where she...? He couldn’t push those thoughts out of his mind. Is the end for her almost here? 

Fortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. As they approached the Temple, Cloud could feel the anxiety in his chest never going away, but Aerith seemed to be optimistic. There seemed to be whispers in the wind as they walked, the language of the Ancients flowing through the air. He didn’t understand many of the words, but he continued hearing the same phrase over and over again. “Black materia.” 

They entered the top of the Temple, only to see an old rival before them. Tseng’s hand was pressed to his torso, fresh blood coating his hand. A gasp escaped Aerith’s lips as she looked down at the bleeding-out man. “What happened?” She asked, unsure of what to do. She couldn’t forget the years of torment she faced from him and his colleagues, but she still cared about him regardless. 

“Sephiroth happened.” He muttered, a cough followed by a groan leaving his lips. A conflicted expression formed on his features when he saw Cloud, hesitation crossing his features. “I’ll be fine. You need to go further in.” He grumbled, pushing himself up. Aerith seemed hesitant at first, but decided to push on.

With the help of her Cetra powers, finding their way through the Temple was quite easy compared to the Turks. It was much further in when they began to find traces of Sephiroth. As they carried on, Aerith learned more and more about the Temple, the Ancient race, and about her duty as the final Cetra.

Cloud felt conflicted when it came down to the remaining circumstances. He had come to terms of the fact that Aerith's death in the visions resulted in her ultimately sacrificing herself. She was sacrificing herself for humanity, for the world. Cloud, out of everyone, knew that they didn't deserve it. He felt angry with himself for these selfish thoughts, but he didn't care what happened in the end.

He only wanted Aerith to stay alive.

During their journey through the temple, a voice called out to him. An awful pain shot through his head as he stumbled slightly. It was like time around him had completely stopped. When he turned to look at the source of the voice, a chill ran down his spine suddenly.

There, in front of him, was a standing figure, a cloak covering most of his body. Most of his face was not visible, but the large "2" tattooed onto his cheekbone stood out among everything else.

Cloud was at a loss of words. Something about this creature's presence made him weary. The Jenova clone stood there in silence, except for a quiet groaning. Finally, it spoke.

"There is still time to change the future." It explained, causing Cloud to be taken aback. "Not all is lost."

Cloud took a step forward, reaching for his sword. "What are you talking about?" He hissed, glaring at the clone. Cloud knew that it was talking about Aerith, but he needed to be sure.

The clone simply gestured to Aerith. "You have seen the visions. She knows what she must do, but you want to change fate." It spoke, the voice echoing through the temple. "Because of your battle against fate, you have been granted another chance. It is your decisions that will save her." It continued, gesturing to Aerith. "Your time begins now." It stated, before vanishing.

Cloud returned to reality once more, everything that had just happened seeming to be nothing more than just another vision. He winced in pain and gripped his head, massaging away the intense pain. What was he supposed to do to save Aerith? Why couldn't he get a proper answer from anyone?

Eventually, he carried on through the Temple. Aerith unlocked the secrets of it one by one, until they reached a room near the bottom of the temple. Several prophecies were depicted by art on the wall, most of it seeming to be events that were to happen. Cloud felt his stomach turn at the sight of the meteor. Why was any of this happening?

Suddenly, a sinister chuckle came from behind him. Cloud quickly turned, his eyes landing on the long sword held by the former SOLDIER. Sephiroth... Why was he here? Cloud pulled out his sword, ready to fight him, but felt himself unable to move. A sick feeling formed in his head as Sephiroth’s words rung in his ears. He couldn’t seem to focus. Blinded by rage, when Sephiroth disappeared, he ran off after him to finish all of this now. 

But something happened. Something was wrong. Cloud slowly came to a stop as voices from different people rang in his head. “You wish to change fate, don’t you?” Sephiroth’s voice mocked. He stood there frozen, clenching the sword in his hand as he tried to fight the pull from Sephiroth. 

“You must change fate. Save Aerith to save the planet.” The voice of the cloaked man restated. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his head, causing him to lurch over and groan. His eyes fell to the picture of meteor on the wall. 

“Give me the black materia.” Sephiroth’s voice commanded. No... No, Cloud couldn’t. He couldn’t give it to him. He didn’t know where it was. The black materia was Meteor. “Let us take the planet together.” Sephiroth urged. Cloud felt weakened. 

Once Aerith and the others caught up to him, they froze. Cloud was... Laughing? No, more like cackling. He kept muttering things under his breath, something like “black materia” or “meteor.” Aerith hesitantly took a step towards him. “Cloud..?” She called out, preparing to back away if necessary. When she didn’t get a response, she desperately reached out for him. “Cloud! Pull yourself together!” She cried. 

Cloud seemed to snap out of it immediately. The voices were gone, Sephiroth and the cloaked man were no longer fighting within his mind. He slowly turned towards the others and stared at them in confusion. After confirming that he was okay, Aerith decided to take the lead from now on. They gathered at what seemed to be an altar at the end of the room, the words “B.L.A.C.K.M.A.T.E.R.I.A.” written on the top of the artifact. Cloud hesitantly reached out to grab it, but was stopped by Aerith immediately. 

“This isn’t the actual black materia. The temple is.” She stated, looking at the stone tablet. “In order to remove it, we’ll have to have someone stay inside and solve the puzzles until it reveals itself.” Aerith explained, shaking her head. “It’s... Very dangerous.”

“Then how are we supposed to get it out?” Tifa asked before anyone else could. Aerith seemed to think for a moment, before slowly shaking her head. 

“I’m not sure. If one of us stays behind, we’ll more than likely be crushed.” She explained, frowning. “We can’t risk it.”

Cloud shook his head and took a step closer to the tablet. “But we can’t let Sephiroth or Shinra get their hands on it.” He argued, furrowing his brows. As if it were perfect timing, at the end of the hall, there were some footsteps. 

From the flickering shadows of the flames, a small... Cat appeared. The group stared down at it in both confusion and wonder, collectively trying to figure out if they were actually awake or not. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. But don’t worry. I’ll do it!” The cat explained, giving them all a thumbs up. 

Cloud stared down at the cat, before looking at the others and shrugging. “It’s not like we have a better choice.” He mentioned, causing Aerith to frown and look over at him. 

“But you’ll die, won’t you?” She asked, looking down at it. The cat shrugged.

“I’ll come back, don’t worry!” He replied slightly ominously. It seemed hesitant to give out any secrets for now. The group weighed the options for a moment, before agreeing to trust the cat. 

They returned back to the outside of the Temple, leaving the cat inside by itself. They all seemed to share the same guilt when it came to allowing the cat to sacrifice itself, but it seemed to not mind. 

As they watched from the outside, the air around the Temple adopted a dark color, the ground shook as it began to shrink in size. Eventually, the Temple was gone, replaced by a giant pit with the black materia resting at the bottom. Cloud and Aerith shared a quick glance, before rushing down to the bottom of it. Once it was safely in Cloud’s hands, a sigh of relief left his lips. “We’ve won, then, right? Sephiroth can’t use meteor.” He explained, looking over at Aerith. 

Suddenly, the same wave of sickness hit him again. The voices began to ring in his head. His eyes went void as he stared past Aerith. Those voices circled around him, taunting him. It was the same messages, but Sephiroth slowly began to overpower the voice of the cloaked man. He found it impossible to fight the urge of Sephiroth. 

It felt like everything was in slow motion again as Cloud turned to face Sephiroth. With the black materia in hand, he began to take slow and unsteady steps. Another voice screamed at him from the back of his mind. It was so familiar yet... 

“No! Stop!” It cried, fighting off Sephiroth’s commands. “Don’t do this!” It begged. Cloud could hear it barely. It was drowned out by the power of Sephiroth’s voice. You could hear the smirk as he spoke. Eventually, everyone’s voice but Sephiroth’s was gone. Before the black materia was placed in Sephiroth’s hands, Cloud barely caught a glimpse of himself- his younger self- standing and watching in pure fear. 

Cloud finally snapped out of it when his eyes landed on the black materia again. It was no longer in his hands, rather, it was now in Sephiroth’s. Everyone had a look of shock, confusion, and betrayal on their faces. Before anyone could think to react, Sephiroth was gone in an instance, leaving all of them there without the black materia. 

“I gave him... The black materia..?” Cloud whispered. Aerith, still slightly weary, took a step closer to Cloud. 

“It isn’t your fault.” She encouraged, gently placing a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. 

He flinched, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. No. No, no, no no no. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He couldn’t think for himself. He fought as he slowly turned towards Aerith, he fought against himself as he began to take steps towards her. He couldn’t understand what was happening until Cloud finally lunged at her. 

That was the last thing he remembered from that day. 

Cloud ended up waking up in a dream state, his eyes fluttering open and greeted by what seemed to be a forest. Slowly, as he sat up, he noticed a girl running among the trees. She stopped once Cloud stood up, slowly turning towards him. “Aerith...” He whispered quietly, his voice shaking. The guilt of what happened the previous day consumed him as she approached him. “I’m sorry.” He choked out, frowning down at the floor. 

The girl simply smiled and shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.” She said, clasping her hands together. “I’m going to the City of the Ancients. I can stop Sephiroth.” She explained, looking up at Cloud. “Trust me, okay? I’ll come back once it’s over.” 

Cloud couldn’t do that. He couldn’t sit back and let her leave like that. He had to save her, right? Or was there more to it? A very faint and unrecognizable voice rang in his head. “We must stop that girl soon.” It said. 

When he woke up, he saw both Barret and Tifa standing over him. Cloud knew he couldn’t go to the City of Anicents. If he did, Aerith would be in more trouble than without him there. Barret and Tifa refused to listen, they kept pushing him. He had to go. But why?

The cloaked man’s words kept running through his mind. “You must save Aerith.” It didn’t make sense. How was he supposed to save Aerith if all he did was keep hurting her? How was he supposed to do it if he can’t get near her? Conflict quickly formed within himself. Does he stay behind and give Aerith a better chance to survive while casting Holy? Or does he go and save Aerith from whatever fate awaits them at the Capital? How has fate changed since that battle in Midgar? There were so many unanswered questions. 

The journey to the Ancient City took forever. Or maybe that was the anxiety speaking. Cloud wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time they had arrived, all he knew was that he had to find Aerith as quickly as possible. Something inside of him knew that this was the beginning of the end. Aerith was going to die soon, and it would all be his fault, wouldn’t it?

Cloud never really thought about praying before. He never really offered much to the planet in terms of the religious aspect, so this was the first time he really prayed. He prayed that fate had actually changed, that the battle in Midgar actually meant something. He prayed that time wasn’t up and Aerith was still going to be safe when they arrived. He prayed that the cloaked man they met in the Temple was right. 

When they finally arrived in the Temple, Cloud didn’t stop running. He descended all the way to the bottom, he ran until his legs threatened to give out. His breathing was staggered as he finally arrived to the altar, his eyes landing on the safe and healthy Aerith. She stayed still as she prayed on her knees, her hands clasped together. She seemed to be focusing everything into praying, allowing Cloud to slowly make his way onto the altar. 

The moment his foot was placed on the white marble, he felt himself growing dizzy again. No... No, not again. Not here. He silently begged Sephiroth to leave. With what remaining power he had, he pushed himself off of the platform, desperately turning away to stop himself. 

The group seemed to notice that something was wrong, Barret was the first to react by grabbing Cloud and pushing him back. It worked well, but Cloud still didn’t feel like himself. It was only a matter of time before he lost it again. Was this Sephiroth controlling him? If that’s the case, where was Sephiroth?

His eyes shot up towards the light coming from the top of the Temple, a small black figure standing far above them all. His eyes widening as realization. This was it. This was what his visions have been this entire time. Aerith was going to die if he didn’t do something about it now. 

Still being pushed down by Barret, panic filled his veins quickly. Adrenaline began to pump through him as he fought against the grip. He cried out for Aerith, he kicked and pushed Barret, trying to get him to understand that it was him. It was Cloud. Why couldn’t he speak? Why were his words not making sense? 

The light reflected off of Masamune, nearly blinding Cloud as he pushed back against Barret. Sephiroth stepped off of the platform, holding Masamune up and beginning to fall right above Aerith. 

No, no, no, Aerith was going to die and all he could do was watch. A pained groan left his lips as he struggled against Barret. Why didn’t they understand he was Cloud? He needed to save Aerith!

Sephiroth could see his victory just before him. A sick smirk was on his face as he fell towards Aerith. The end of his sword was so close to Aerith. A few more seconds and the world would be his. 

There was hardly any time for anyone to react. Aerith looked over at the group, a smile on her face. She was proud of what she’s done. She saved the world from Meteor. She fulfilled her duty as the last Cetra. So why was Cloud screaming at her? Confusion formed in her features as she noticed another figure moved behind the group. 

Cloud’s eyes followed her gaze, his eyes widening at the sight of... No way. 

With quick movements, the figure made it barely in time to block Sephiroth’s attack, guiding his blade away from Aerith. A cry of fear left her lips as she backed away, causing Barret to finally let go of Cloud. He rushed to Aerith’s side, quickly guiding her off of the altar before turning towards the figure that faced Sephiroth. 

Without a single moment of hesitation, Cloud was right there next to him, prepared to fight for his life to protect Aerith. Sephiroth, seeming to be uninterested in a formal fight, narrowed his eyes at the figure. “It’s been a long time since we’ve met.” He pointed out, looking down at the group beneath the altar. He noticed the way they tensed and protected Aerith, causing him to scoff. Fighting here would be a waste of time. Instead, he prepared to summon another Jenova. His eyes fell onto the figure for a moment, a slight glint of recognition in his eyes. “How did you manage to survive?” He hissed, before taking off, leaving behind the growing Jenova monster. 

After the group fought it off, Cloud couldn’t feel Sephiroth’s influence anymore. A sigh of relief left his lips as the monster disintegrated. Slowly, he turned to face the rest of them, a sense of relief washing over him when he saw Aerith. Quickly, he rushed over and embraced Aerith suddenly, his brows furrowing. “I’m sorry.” He whispered hesitantly, his voice cracking. 

Aerith pulled away slowly and shook her head. “You have no reason to be sorry.” She explained, smiling warmly. Cloud felt his heart melt at the sight. “It wasn’t your fault.” She reminded, encouragingly squeezing his shoulder. 

He nodded hesitantly, unsure of how he should respond. His brows furrowed as he turned away. Cloud knew he would always feel guilty for what he’s done to Aerith, regardless of if it was his fault or not. 

“Oh, Cloud.” Tifa called out to him, turning towards him. The rest of the group was in the middle of thanking the stranger who came to help. “You should come thank him as well.” She suggested, moving out of the way. 

Cloud’s eyes widened at the sight of the person. This was no stranger. No... This was...

His heart swelled suddenly, Cloud stumbled back in both shock and confusion. Before him stood the man he watched die on that hill outside of Midgar. He was healthy, he looked as if that day had never happened. But dead people don’t come back to life, right? “Zack..?” He whispered, his voice weak in disbelief. 

The man opened his arms for him, nodding slowly. “Hey, Cloud. Been a while, hasn’t it?” He asked, offering Cloud his signature grin. Cloud barely hesitated as he ran towards Zack, embracing him and sobbing into his chest. Zack let out a quiet ‘oof’ at the borderline tackle, ruffling the blond’s head. “I’ve been worried.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around Cloud. 

Cloud sobbed into his chest, his brows furrowing. This felt so real, but he didn’t understand how it wasn’t a dream. His fingers gripped his shirt as he shook his head in disbelief. “How... How did you do this? How are you here? Where have you been?” He questioned, wiping away his face. 

Zack raised a brow. “I got you back to Midgar. Don’t you remember? We became mercenaries together, but got separated during one of our jobs.” He explained as if it was obvious. 

Cloud hesitated. This wasn’t his Zack... Or, at least, it didn’t seem to be that way. He glanced at Aerith, hoping for some kind of answer, but she simply placed one of her fingers to her lips. “Right... I remember now.” He answered, nodding slowly. “We should get out of here.” He explained, moving off the topic. 

When they exited the temple, Cloud turned towards Aerith, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Mind catching me up?” He asked, looking over at the girl. 

“Fate changed. The day we fought that battle in Midgar changed more than just the future. It saved the fate of some and ruined the future of others.” She explained, looking up at Cloud. “There were more factors at play than I expected though... How long have you been having visions?” Aerith asked, raising a brow. 

“Since we met.” He confessed. “How long have you known?” He asked in returned, looking down at her. 

“When you came into the temple.” She replied, nodding lightly. “I never expected Zack to come back to life... Especially since he has false memories as well.” She explained, biting her lip. “I hope this doesn’t cause problems for the future.” Aerith sighed, looking over at Zack, who was in the middle of telling Tifa this crazy story about an adventure him and Cloud went on. 

Cloud hesitated and nodded slowly. “I see... We’ll just have to carry on for now, right?” He asked, looking back at Aerith. For him, it felt like his mission was complete. Aerith was alive, fate has changed once again. Now, all that was left was Sephiroth. 

She nodded slowly. “We will. Are you ready to face Sephiroth for good?” She asked, looking up at him. By now, the others seemed to be listening as well. 

Cloud looked between all of them, before furrowing his brows and nodding. “Let’s mosey.” He replied, glaring up at the top of the Temple. 

[naturallytom]

Before You Go (Spencer Reid x reader)

a/n: this is for @dontshootmespence​‘s 8k writing challenge!! i haven’t written for spencer in a hot second so i hope you guys like it!! 

warnings (pls pay attention to these): heavy implications of suicide and struggling with mental illness, death, grieving, angst 

if you or anyone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, i encourage you to call the national suicide prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255. please never forget that all of you are so so loved and my inbox and messages are always open if you need a friend or some encouragement💗

prompt: grief + before you go by lewis capaldi 

please reblog/leave feedback!!

I fell by the wayside like everyone else I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself Spencer watched nearly emotionlessly as the casket was lowered into the ground. The casket that held you. His best friend. He stood there for hours that seemed to drag on for days. He stood there until the last person left the service, leaving him alone. It was then that he allowed himself to fall to his knees, hot tears streaming down his face. Anger filled his veins and suddenly all he could think was “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” Who was he kidding? Of course he didn’t hate you. He loved you. You were his best friend. He couldn’t hate you if he tried. But he was still angry. He was angry that you left. He was angry that you felt like you couldn’t tell him what you were dealing with. Most of all, he was angry at himself for not picking up on the signs sooner. 

Our every moment, I start to replace 'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say He couldn’t concentrate. Hotch gave him time off to deal with your death but even with his days empty for once, he couldn’t concentrate on any of the books he was trying to read to distract himself. Memories of you and him flooded his mind, but every time they popped up, they were quickly replaced by words that Spencer needed to say, but didn’t get the chance. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t say them when he could. He knew everyone could hurt under the surface of what they present to the world, but he genuinely didn’t think it was you that was hurting. You were so bubbly, so lively, so seemingly happy. No one could have guessed that you were dealing with the worst kind of pain underneath it all. 

So, before you go Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather So, before you go Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless

The thoughts plagued Spencer. Every day and every night it was like a constant cycle of wondering what he could’ve said to help you and the complete feeling of helplessness of not knowing you were battling such awful demons. He kept trying to think back and remember any signs he might’ve overlooked but every time his brain came up empty. Yet every time he couldn’t help but think that if only he had known, maybe, just maybe, you’d still be here today. He wondered if there was anything he could’ve said to make it all better for you. Logically, he knew that wasn’t possible and it killed him knowing that your own mind made you feel as shitty as you did. But he wished there was a magic word that would’ve taken your pain away. He would’ve taken away your pain in a heartbeat. 

Was never the right time, whenever you called Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all

The weeks before your death you called Spencer. You called him when you were done with work and it seemed like it was never a good time for him. “Sorry this case is really bad and they need everyone- I’ll call you back, alright?” “Max and I are planning a date for that day, does a different time work?” “It’s just not a good time right now, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “But I promise you, once I get some free time, we will have a day to ourselves, sound good?” You stopped calling after a while. Our every moment, I start to replay “Spence come ‘ere!” You called, sitting on your couch. “The movie’s about to start!” “The popcorn’s almost done!” He replied, the timer going off right as he said that. He chuckled, hearing you groan impatiently. He knew you were dying to see this movie, but it still amused him when he walked into the living room seeing you pouting. “What took you so long?” You grumbled playfully, Spencer rolling his eyes. “The delicious popcorn you’re eating.” He remarked. “Gonna hit play?” “Hell yeah.” You replied, grabbing the remote. “I’ve been dying to see this movie.” “I know.” “Well you should. I’ve been talking about it for ages.” You chuckled. “You have. I haven’t forgotten your rambles about it.” He smiled. “You truly are something special.” Spencer woke up in a sweat, hot tears pouring down his face, similar to the day of your funeral. It wasn’t the first time this happened. Replayed memories of the two of you came back in his dreams. It was bittersweet- he got to see you again. You were laughing and smiling and full of life but when he woke up he was faced with the harsh reality that you weren’t here. 

You weren’t with him on your weekly movie nights, rambling about how a movie got something wrong or endlessly praising something they did right. You weren’t at a team party, filling the environment with laughter and telling bad jokes. You weren’t telling Penelope about a cute puppy you saw walking down the street on your way to get coffee before work. And reality was, you’d never do any of those things again. Spencer let the sobs wrack through his body. Loud, heaving sobs filled his room and he cried until he thought he couldn’t cry anymore. And then he cried some more. He knew about the five stages of grief. He had told too many families of victims that it was normal to feel angry or in shock or depressed about their loved one’s death. That the grieving process took time and everyone experiences it differently. He understood all that, but why did it feel so abnormal for him? It felt like he was in a never ending cycle of denial, anger, and depression, but never quite getting to the acceptance stage. It felt like he had been grieving for years when it had only been weeks. Still, he felt like he should’ve been ready to go back to work by now. Yet every time he talked to JJ about it, he broke down and every time Morgan asked him how he was doing, all he could manage was a very weak “I’m fine,” which Morgan knew meant that he was not fine. The team all understood. You were Spencer’s absolute best friend, you were with him nearly all the time when the two of you weren’t working. They understood it was an extremely sudden change for Spencer. Having someone with you all the time to them not being there at all with no possibility of them ever coming back was something they saw happen far too frequently. Spencer tried a couple times to go back to work and each time everyone on the team would ask him if he felt ready to be back and he said yes but every time the case was introduced, he would break down. JJ and Morgan thought it’d be best for him to see the team in a non-work setting. No one could deny that what they do wasn’t an easy job, especially not while you’re grieving. So they organized for each member of the team to pick up a different type of takeout (each kind one of Spencer’s favorites) and they would it bring it by and have dinner as a team- something they didn’t do as much as they hoped. Once they were all gathered outside his apartment, JJ knocked and they all waited patiently for him to open the door (like they hoped he would). When Spencer opened the door greeted by the team, each with a different kind of his favorite takeout in their hands, confusion took over his features before tears filled his eyes and a soft smile formed on his lips. Wordlessly, he opened the door and let each member of the team in, each of them giving him a hug and a small smile. And for the first time in a long time, Spencer felt like the void that was left when you died was slowly starting to be filled.

[wynniewright]

Little Piece of Heaven (M)

→ Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader (female)

→ Word Count: 8k 

→ Genre: Valentine’s Day AU | First time (sort of) AU | Fluff | Smut

→ Warnings: Implied past abuse (Previous relationship), reader has a little trauma, reader doesn’t like to be touched, first time sex with boyfriend, first time sex after past abuse, so much fluff, mild mention of panic attacks and oncoming attacks, soft boyfriend Joon, fingering, cunnilingus, making out, dry humping, face-sitting, protected sex (be smart kiddos), cockwarming if you squint, sort of porn with little mention of plot (?), empowered abuse survivor, probably the most fluffy writing with dark undertones, implied first attempt with Joon, Joon is a saint and everyone needs one of him, I think that’s it

→ Summary: A sexually abusive relationship left her untouchable and almost inconsolable, until a white knight named Namjoon made his way into her heart, mind, and soul. Three years of a relationship together with constant attempts to stop the panic attacks and test the boundaries of intimacy, Y/N decides Valentine’s Day is the perfect day to show him how much she appreciates his presence and how much she’s improved… all because of him.

→ A/N: Okay, so I tried with the warnings but I just wanted to state things a little better down here for those interested. A better description for those wondering if it’s going to be triggering for them: It’s about a girl who finally reaches the point in healing after her previous abuse to successfully make love to her partner. He’s not abusive, there’s nothing triggering or any mentions of the actual abuse. It’s very mellow and calm, extremely soft with oral consent, so if you don’t find any of that triggering, you’re safe.

→ A/N Part 2: I fixed the “fat” instead of “sat” mistake and the others I could see. If anyone else sees something off, lemme know. My editing software didn’t flag out of place words so excuse the dumb mistakes c: ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE 100+ LIKES! 

The jingling of keys and gentle closing of the door signaled the arrival of my boyfriend. The sounds echoed through our tiny one-bedroom apartment despite his every attempt to not make too much noise in case I was asleep.

Namjoon spent every waking moment at school with a job at the campus bookstore on top of his night classes. His schedule took a bit of getting used to at first, but paired with my morning classes and afternoon tutoring gig, it worked out in the end. It ended up working well for the both of us, aside from the fact that I was always in bed before he got home. At least we still got to go to sleep and wake up next to each other.

I heard him set his keys down on the island counter and start walking back towards the bedroom. The thudding of his boots stopped at our open doorway and I swore I could hear him wiggling his feet out of them. He waddled across the floor in his socks before the the rustling sounds of his clothes brought a smile to my face. He was always an awkward one, especially when it came to changing clothes. It was more like him wrestling himself out of them rather than stripping.

I remembered the week I no longer cringed at the sound of his zipper. When I could actually laugh at the thought of him tripping over his pant legs when he couldn't get them off completely.

A lot had changed since then.

"Hey, baby. I'm home," he whispered, sliding into bed behind me and tucking himself under the covers to snuggle up to my back. He didn't hold me tight, instead opting to throw a loose arm over my waist as his front barely touched my back.

The thick layer of darkness flooding the room didn't stop me from taking a peek at his arm to see what he wore. As expected, I noticed the little bit of sweater paw caused by only Joon's most favorite t-shirt in his closet. Despite the cuteness of it all, a small part of me was almost grateful that he wasn't bare.

I frowned at the though, placing my arm atop the one draped over my side. "Hey."

I only sat there for a moment before forcing myself to turn around and face him. After a long day at work and school, I liked to take some time at the end of the night to look at him. He always had such a soft look on his face whenever I checked him out, letting me do it for as long as I wanted with no interruptions. Sometimes I thought that maybe he got a kick out of my little routine. Who knew.

His soft brown eyes focused in on my face, adjusting to the sudden darkness as I scooted myself a tad bit closer to him. Even in the dark, I saw his little dimples poke through as he smiled at our closeness.

"Did I wake you?" He asked, his fingers sauntering up my arm to cup my cheek in his palm with hesitance.

I nuzzled the side of my face into his hand, pressing a quick kiss to it with a consenting smile. Nothing hurt me more than to watch him walk on eggshells more than he already did for me. It wasn't fair to him.

"No, I was waiting for you to come home. How was your day?"

He brushed back the little hairs that framed the side of my face and grazed his knuckles across my skin.

"Work was decent. Our new hire, Jimin, started today and we got along quite well. He seems pretty cool. As for school, well -- it was school. If I look at one more calculus problem tonight, I'm going to scream. I'm actually going to have nightmares about it," he giggled and I found myself laughing along with him.

I wasn't good enough in math to be in calculus but I spent enough time studying with Joon to know that the workload was ridiculous. Especially with midterms around the corner.

"I'm glad your day went well," I mumbled, leaning forward to brush my nose gently against his. It wasn't a big gesture but we both shared a love for the little things.

"Yeah, I am too." He nudged my nose with his and hummed.

"Hey babe?" I smiled. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Leaning forward, I pressed a delicate kiss to his beautiful pink lips, the ones I could never get enough of. I sighed out against him at the warmth of his face, no doubt his body was as warm if not warmer. I brushed that thought off by clearing my throat. One step at a time.

"Happy Valentine's, babygirl. Couldn't imagine a better way to spend it than this," Joonie muttered with his lips still flush against mine. He pushed our foreheads together, nose skimming alongside one another as we laid there peacefully.

I loved any chance to sit with him that close, but even with him laying all snug beside me, something felt off. No matter how close the two of us got, we couldn't get our bodies to be that intimate either. In my mind, I loved him, trusted him. That didn't stop me from having to remind him that none of it was his fault, even if his hand or close proximity was the trigger. It felt like a burden to want to love somebody when your body and mind didn't match up. It dragged him down and upset him more than I would ever forgive myself for.

And somehow, the consolation for us both was the amount of progress I'd made in three short years Namjoon and I were together. When we first met, everything was so much worse. I wouldn't let him hold my hand or give me a hug until six months into knowing him, and it was only because he was different. He was the only person I didn't have to force myself to be okay around and the only person who knew the extent and cause of my fear. I remembered thinking to myself, 'Why would someone like him be with someone like me.' Over the years, he made it his job to make sure I knew the answer to that.

I'm not broken.

After that, we spent months working on sleeping in the same room, since some of the first attempts ended with panicking that freaked him out as much as it did me. Still it never came close to how bad it was when we tried sleeping in the same bed.

Namjoon's gentle fingers danced across my cheek and I let the thoughts of the person I used to be float away with each touch.

"Everything okay?" He asked me while his thumbs ran over the smooth flesh of my cheek. While I was in thought, he seemed to have pulled a bit away to watch me. He always knew exactly when I needed to stop thinking so much. It was one of the many reasons I continued to push my boundaries with him.

"Yeah, everything's fine." I smiled and turned my head to press a quick peck to his rough palm. "I've been thinking a lot about something recently." His eyes grew wide, as if I said something worth making him nervous when it was the other way around.

A couple months before, I started seeing a sex therapist to help me with my intimacy issues. I passed it off as tutoring work because I didn't want to disappoint Joon if it didn't work out. I felt stupid for lying to him about something so important, especially when he was the only support system I had.

But it worked. A few months of working with her and searching myself, Joon and I went further than we had before. We slept in the same bed, pretty much snuggled up against one another every night with no attacks and no stress. He was smart, way smart enough to notice that things had gotten better. So why not tell him?

I bit my lip as I tried to word what I wanted to say. 'I want to have sex with you' was a little brazen and 'let's try to make love' sounded cringy in my head. Doubt clouded my thoughts as I recalled the last time we had this conversation. It didn't go well.

"I don't know... how to uh," I started, only to look up into his eyes and realize I was completely unprepared to bring it up with him. Did that mean I wasn't ready?

No, no. I was definitely ready.

I pushed myself to sit up, leaning against the wall behind the head of our bed and curling my knees up to my chest. As soon as I did that, he sat up in alarm with his hand placed on mine in support.

"It's nothing bad, I promise. I've spent a lot of time thinking about you and... us. It's weird to see how far we've come over the past few years and I've realized something. There's something I want to try, because I trust you and it's something I want to share with you." I trailed on, my eyes beginning to wander before I forced myself to refocus my attention on him.

He looked a little nervous, even after I promised it wasn't something bad. In a weird way, I felt relieved that he was anxious to hear what I was anxious to say.

"I want... I want to have sex with you." Clearing my throat, I forced it out. I didn't have enough energy to keep stressing over it.

He didn't exactly react immediately. Whether that was a good or bad thing was beyond me. I could see the wheels turning in his head, no doubt trying to make sense of what I said and piece together the implication.

Maybe I shouldn't have said anything to him. Maybe in his own way, he wasn't ready to try again so soon after the last time. What if he didn't want to do that with me? What if he settled for me because we could hardly be anything more than platonic?

"I don't understand. What changed?" His grip on my hand tightened, not enough to hurt me but instead reinforcing his support.

"Me. I've changed. I've grown so much with you and I've been thinking about this a lot because it's something I've wanted to give you. You deserve at least this much, and I know that's not a valid reason to have sex with someone and it's not the only one. I started seeing a therapist to help me get over... everything. I wanted it to be a possible option for us and our relationship," I spewed out. My words must've come out quick, since Joon grew closer to me with a more concerned look on his face. It was the same face he made when he was trying to memorize a new formula or work out a difficult equation.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and if we have to take years to get past everything, then we will. There's no rush." He took my face into both his hands and looked me straight in the eyes, reminding me exactly why I wanted to do this for him. It was the same reason I longed to be intimate with him. I wanted him to push me on my back and whisper how much he loved me while we make love and that's what we were going to do. No matter what it took.

I couldn't help but smile at his protectiveness, not to mention the thought of being with him for the rest of my life.

Reaching up, I grabbed at his cheeks with my own sweater paw-covered hands, cupping his face like he always did to me. And with a calmness I didn't know I had in me, I kissed him.  His eyes took a couple of seconds to close before I felt his lashes flutter against my cheeks. That's when I knew I finally had him.

He released a quivering breath as our lips parted but before he could pull away from me, I pushed myself up onto my knees with confidence. His velvety lips were gentle against my own as he mirrored my actions until we both knelt on the bed with our bodies pressed tightly together. I pulled him into me, taking his plush bottom lip into my mouth to smooth my tongue over it with practiced ease. He released a soft huff against me, moving a hand to brush some hair behind my ear while the other slid down my waist. His fingers pressed into the soft skin there with purpose, somehow managing to ease the frenzy my heart went through. He made me feel safe and loved and protected.

Ah, I loved him.

I moved my arm to wrap around his next, securing him to me as our kiss became more open. The more our mouths molded to one another, his will to resist faded into nothing as he finally opened his mouth up to me. Our tongues danced and tangled, leaving me dizzy and completely oblivious to the outside world. I forgot the broken girl who was afraid of him, despite knowing he'd never hurt her. I forgot the times we struggled to try and physically love each other, as if our lips and teeth erased all the dark.

Namjoon pulled away from me for a brief second with a thin string of our mixed saliva connecting the two of us. He kept his eyes on me in a gaze that I couldn't recognize. I scrunched my brows.

"Tell me that this isn't what you want and I'll stop. You know I would do nothing to hurt you," he choked out with pain in his voice. My thoughts drifted back to the last time he said those words, right before out whole night fell apart. All because of me.

I pushed myself up higher, straightening my back and gathering as much confidence as I could. Running my fingers through his soft brunette locks, I dug my fingers in enough to hold him there. "Please don't stop," I whispered, scanning over his face to watch it melt with resolve. Without the hesitance he held from before, he closed the distance between us once more and framed my face with his hands as he kissed me sweetly.

With my answer clear for the both of us, he supported my back and laid me down to sweep my legs out from underneath me. He rested himself above me with no part of him aside from his arms and lips touching me as he held himself up. His arms were wobbling with the exertion to balance on the mattress and keep off of me. He didn't want to touch me. That wouldn't do.

"I want you to make love to me, baby," I mumbled against him, retracting my arms from his neck to grip at his shirt and pull him down onto me. As his body came into contact with mine, an odd and unfamiliar heat burned between my legs. He pressed up against me completely, his hard-on flush against my core. I wasn't used to the warmth there let alone the new set of hips spreading my legs open.

I let out a noise I hardly recognized as he drove his hips gently into mine, earning a soft groan from Joon and a few pecks along my jaw. Goosebumps raised the hair on my right side as he buried his face in my neck to leave a trail of wet kisses.

"I'm going to do a lot more than that, babygirl. I'm going to show you that you're my world and you deserve everything I have to offer you."

He traveled down my neck, lips ghosting across my skin until the neckline of my shirt got in the way. I peered down in time to watch his finger run down my chest and stomach, skimming down my body until he reached the hem. He paused to look up at me with the obvious question lingering in his eyes.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, playing with the bottom of the shirt until I bit my lip and nodded 'yes'. Despite my answer, he didn't move.

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N. Out loud. I'm not making any mistakes this time." He pushed himself back up to press a chaste kiss to my lips before I cleared my throat out of nervousness. Even with mild anxiety, I knew what I wanted.

"Yes."

He scanned my face once more before taking my word, fingertips sliding underneath the shirt to pull it up. He inched it up my body until the bottom of my breast poked out from beneath, and still he kept his eyes on my face.  I leaned up to help him remove my shirt completely, baring myself naked from the waist up for his eyes to feast on. Only he didn't. Almost a year since he'd seen that much of me and he couldn't take his eyes off my face. If something made me cry that night, chances pointed at that small notion.

The same dopey smile stuck on his lips as he traced my bottom lip with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful." His smile grew bigger and I couldn't help but smile myself. The heat on my cheeks made it difficult to look at him in the eyes, but I pushed past that. I nuzzled against his hand and gathered the strength to look up at him.

He leaned in for another kiss, this one sloppier and somehow more comforting than the others. His lips cushioned mine, tongue smoothing over what he could until our teeth clashed and I lost sight of what was mine and what was his.

The kiss didn't last as long as I wanted it to, instead he broke it off to once again travel his way down my body. His hands slid into mine, providing me with some support as his lips traveled down my collarbone and the top of my breast. His chin skimmed over my nipple and forced me to suck in a sharp breath. His lips ghosted across my chest until it reached the peak, his lips taking in my hardening nipple. The first thought on my mind was how perfect his lips felt on me, despite how much my mind fought against the idea of someone being physical with me. A little pit of fear pooled in the bottom of my stomach at the familiar feeling on my chest brought back memories of him.

But it wasn't him. There was nobody capable of making me feel as good as I did in that moment. Nobody but my Namjoon.

I opened my eyes and realized I didn't remember shutting them. Joon looked up at me with practiced patience and understanding before resuming his task. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach, making sure to even peck the little freckle I had at the top of my cleavage.

"Welcome back," he grinned, maintaining eye contact as his tongue poked out from between his lips and leisurely swiped across my other nipple. It didn't take long for him to coax it into full hardness to match the other.

I scrunched my nose up in embarrassment, pursing my lips. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You came back to me." Something about the way he spoke made my heart skip a beat and almost jump out of my ribs.

"I love you," I mumbled, reaching down to play with his soft brunette locks as he skimmed his nose down the front of my body.

Joon pulled one of his hands from my grasp and let it glide down the side of my body until he settled on the pajama shorts I wore. I tightened my legs together some, lifting my body half for a second to adjust my position. The material, along with my underwear, clung to my skin uncomfortable, almost as if it was suffocating that part of me.

"What do you want, love? Want me to take these off?" He cooed, pressing soft kisses between my breasts before looking up at me with the adoration he always held for me. I reached down to let my fingers run wild in his beautiful blond locks, etching the picture of his chin on my chest and hair hanging low on his forehead into my mind.

I moved my hand from his head and down his neck to grin the collar of his shirt. I hadn't seen the tanned expanse of his smooth skin for a year. A full year.

The thought along brought tears to my eyes. Everything that I needed, he gave to me. Anything I wanted or didn't want, he made happen without question or hesitation. I always knew how much effort he out into making sure I felt safe and comfortable,, but at what cost? Not being able to get dressed in the same room as me or being forced to wear clothes to bed even if it was hot and sweaty?

"Baby. Everything okay?" Joon's voice snapped me back into the moment and I tried to keep myself blushing at the thought of being called out once again.

I cleared my throat and blinked away the tears, putting on a small smile and tugged at his shirt. “I want to see you, Joonie. I want this off,” I admitted to him.

A boyish grin plastered itself on his face as he nuzzled the side of my breast. "Would you like to take it off?" he asked when I realized I hadn't let go of him.

I nodded eagerly, yet the tight ball in my tummy lurched in disagreement. I took a deep breath as he rolled to the side and took me with him, taking me by surprise. I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me when I landed on top of him, chests smooshed together and our lips barely an inch apart. We didn't stay that was for long. He sat up and guided my legs to wrap around his body, a position we were very comfortable with already.

My heart thumped in my chest and for a moment, a knot formed in my throat and made it difficult to breath. His hands moved from my waist to cup at both sides of my cheeks as he pressed tender kisses to the center of my face. In some ways, I could've compared him to a guide dog that knew exactly what to do when I broke down. He recognized everything immediately and didn't hesitate to start showering me with kisses as we kept still. it was out own way of telling my body and mind to adapt to something new and uncomfortable - that it was alright and safe. Every peck to my skin broke down the lump in my throat until I felt like I could breathe again.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," I repeated to myself as my boyfriend nodded, something I followed to help the rapid beat of my heart.

"We don't have to go any further than this, babygirl. We've already come so far," he grinned, flashing his dimples as he skimmed his nose lovingly against mine. 

He used 'we' not 'you'. He always took every opportunity to show me that we were a team and every time I picked up on the detail, it made me want to cry. I never needed reminding of how much he cared for me because he showed me in even the smallest of things.

Without responding back to him, I let my hands wander down the flat planes of his torso, surfing over his chest and exploring every dip and bump of muscle with my fingertips. It almost felt wrong to be touching him with such confidence after so much time has passed since the last - and first - time. But deep down, it made me excited. The surface of myself wanted nothing more than to play the helpless lamb that shied away from attention while underneath it all, I longed for him to touch me like nobody had before.

Trying to refrain from thinking too much, I let my fingers fall towards the bottom of his shirt, pinching the material between my fingers as I nibbled on my lip. With a nod of encouragement from Namjoon and a finger thumbing at my bottom lip, I let my hands wander under his shirt to meet his bare flesh for the first time.

He was warm -- no. He was hot. His stomach convulsed under my touch and I almost let out a soft 'awe' knowing that this was the first time he was touched in a long while. Just knowing that warming my cheeks and raised a confidence in me that I didn't know was there. With enough conviction to move my hesitant body, I pulled his shirt up and over his head to expose him to my eyes.

For the first time, I dropped my eyes from out lingering gaze to admire the wide expanse of his chest. He was beautiful and tanned, muscles evidence of the daily workouts he loved so much. His chest and stomach rose and sank with each deep breath, making me reach out and touch his heart.

What was he feeling? Was his heart beating quick like mine was?

With a quick press of my palm to his peck, I confirmed with a giggle that he too was either as excited or as nervous as I was. His heart thumped beneath my hand and I couldn't help the joy that bubbled in my chest as I realized it was beating for me.

With a triumphant smile, I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips against his, missing the way he felt against me. Namjoon matched my tenderness with a soft passion of his own, taking my lips in between his own and pulling me closer. I moved my hands from his front, choosing to drape them around his neck to play with his hair and explore the smooth skin of his back.

He let out a soft groan as I glided my fingernails across his neck, positioning his hands on my waist before releasing my lips. I took in a deep breath of air to calm the slow burning in my lungs when Joon nudged my head to the side with his nose. his lips trailed a pathway down my neck, leaving little pecks and open-mouthed kisses in its wake. He buried his face in my neck once more, giving the sensitive area more attention and enjoying the wave of goosebumps that flushed that side of my body. His hands tightened their grip on my hips and I knew what he was asking of me.

I took a couple of small breaths to steady myself, rubbing eh side of my face against his before gently rocking my lips forward into his. My sudden actions forced a light moan from him as his body immediately reacted by pushing back against me.

It was difficult to describe the feeling I was experiencing between us. I continued rocking against him in search for an answer to what it was, how it felt, and how I felt about it. The pit of fear and anxiousness that remained made itself known again, rising up to my chest. I fought back against it by coiling my arms around his neck and letting out a whimper as I pushed myself to continue.

His hands stilled on my hips as he held them tightly, halting my movements to pull back from my neck and look at me with those big brown eyes. "Talk to me, babygirl."

"I can't feel... this." I sighed, brushing my hair over my shoulder to cover my chest as I was flooded with self-conscious thoughts. "I just -- I don't feel anything."

He caught my chin between his index finger and thumb, tugging up to keep my gaze locked with his. "Alright, that's fine, baby. Do you want to stop?" He offered me a genuine way out, but I shook my head. I didn't want to stop now that we'd come so far.

"I don't want to stop until I feel something."

"Mm, well if I remember right, you definitely felt my tongue last time. How about letting me taste you, babygirl?" I sputtered at how forward he was about it and could practically feel the red in my cheeks and ears.

"Okay," I agreed and melted against him, moving to shuffle off of him when his hands blocked me from doing so. I raised a questioning brow at him as he grinned the most bashful smile I'd ever seen on him.

"I want to do it a little differently this time. I want you to sit on my face," he breathed out almost too quick and quiet for me to understand. He laid back on the bed with me still seated on top of him and it took me a moment to process what he meant by that. My eyes widened as he gestured for me to move up closer to him, closer to his head. I choked down the hesitation and crawled up his body until I was sitting on his chest. While looking down at him, I realized I was still wearing my shorts.

"Joonie, what about my--" I began to ask before he cut me off by yanking me forward until I hovered right above his head. From there, I could see his eyes but not much below it. He stared up at me with warmth, eyes glistening with want as his breath heated the crotch of my clothes.

He hummed underneath me, turning his head to press fluttery kisses to the inside of my bare thighs. He smoothed his hands over my hips and down my legs, massaging circles into my flesh to relax my tightened legs. I took the opportunity to let my head fall back and eyes close, remembering the first time I felt his tongue on me.

I recalled the softness of his touch, the gentleness his fingers possessed as he skimmed over my sensitive thighs and core. I thought back to the way he held my hand in his and let them rest on my stomach to remind me that he was there. Just... slightly further down. Right on cue, his hand found mine and intertwined our fingers together.

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and my heart dropped as the cold air hit my most sensitive parts. I looked down to see him peeling the material to the side to reveal my quivering pussy. He wasted no time in dipping his slick tongue in to lick a bold stripe between my lower lips. It pulled a soft moan from my throat and curled my toes with a jolt of pleasure. His warm touch fluttered across my skin while leaving a wet trail around my clit, purposefully avoiding it as he teased me. I could only take so much before my hips began rocking on their own accord, brushing the little nub of sensitivity against his nose as he stuck his tongue in me.

With wide eyes, I looked down at him and my heart almost skipped a beat when I noticed him staring up at me. There was a playfulness sparkling in his eyes, a heated look that only added to the sensations of his tongue. I scrunched my face up a bit as my ears flushed pink with embarrassment.

Slowly, he pulled his tongue out of me only to push it in again with greater force. My body reacted immediately, my chest pushing itself out as I let my head loll back. His nose brushed up against my throbbing clit and I almost whined when he barely showed it any attention.

"Joonie, stop teasing me," I pouted. My throat was dry and hoarse but I pushed past the uncomfortable rub.

"Sorry. I was committing those beautiful sounds of yours to memory." He grinned and carried on his onslaught of teasing. Right when I was about to take things into my own hands, his lips attached to the little bundle of nerves, lapping over it with his tongue as he pushed a finger to my clenching hole. My breath caught in my throat as he felt my stomach tense. He felt me pause and held my hand tighter, turning his head to press some soft kisses to the inside of my thighs before landing on my clit with a groan of his own.

I raised my hips some to accommodate his hand, giving him enough space to run a finger through the slick between my legs and push it into me until I hit the first knuckle. Taking so little still felt like so much, the newfound pressure inside me feeling foreign and unwanted in some way that I shoved back deep down.

I wanted it -- I wanted him. My heart burned with need but my body wouldn't dare lower onto his finger despite how much I yearned for it.

"I-I need a moment."

As soon as those words tumbled from my lips, all hold he had on me dropped and he let me roll over onto the bed beside him. I covered my face with my arms as a wave of darkness washed over me and crept into my thoughts.

I was right there with him again.

Those eyes that led me into his arms only for him to betray me. Those hands that comforted me only so he could mark me as his and that pressure between my legs sealed the deal.

You're not here. You're not here... I repeated to myself, attempting to break myself out of my own thoughts. It wasn't him. I wasn't there with him. I was there with Namjoon, the man I loved and the man who loved me. The one who proved time and time again that I was the center of his world and his light.

As if reading my mind, long arms wrapped themselves snug around my body and surrounded me with their comforting warmth as he whispered something into my ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying at first, only recognizing the soft tone he used. I honed in on that, on him, wanting nothing more than to come back to him.

"It's alright, baby. I've got you. You're safe. I'll protect you," he repeated over and over again until the high-pitched buzzing dissipated from my ears.

I choked out a sob as I searched for his face in the darkness, cupping it between both hands to set my lips with his. The hint of my wetness on his lips didn't seem to bother either one of us, only proving to support my mental mantra. I wasn't there with him.

"I know. You've got me," I mumbled against his lips before an onslaught of love and adoration for my boyfriend filled me to the brim. I molded my mouth to his, devouring the soft hums and grumbles he gave me as I hoisted my leg up and over his, pulling him even closer to me.

His hands wandered back down to my core, leaving quick little touches around my thighs as he trailed closer. Finally, his large fingers cupped my heat and I rolled my hips into them, suddenly needing much more than that.

He prodded me with his finger to gauge my reaction, dragging his finger through the slick remaining from his tongue. When he was met with an unrestrained moan, he gently pressed into me. The unsettling lack of comfort was the same as the first time, until he pushed in enough to brush past a spot I'd almost forgotten was there. His touch forced a sound out of me that I hardly recognized, somewhere between a cry and a moan. Regardless, it urged him on, spurring him to retract his finger and push it right back in to find that spot once more.

I pushed my chest into his, feeding off the energy his tongue across my bottom lip gave. I bucked my hips against his hand enough to signal that I was okay now before nibbling on his lip. I inhaled sharply when a second finger joined his first. It was an understatement to say it was a tight fit since it'd been a long time since I'd had anything inside me. Oddly enough, nothing felt bad about the stretch I felt, instead the slow burn of his touch grew on me and left me wanting more. He thrusted his fingers into me, pushing them deep inside to skim across my g-spot each time until I involuntarily clenched around him.

We pulled out lips apart for a moment to catch our breaths but his motions against me continues, our bodies rocking together as he worked me open. Our foreheads bumped against each other, labored breaths mingling between out lips as they brushed together. The simplicity of such a intimate position made my heart pound violently behind my ribs as a tight ball welled up inside my lower half.

Joon must've felt me clench around his fingers because he pulled back a moment to look at the nervous smile I wore.

"Can I make you cum like this?"He asked, slowing his movements down a bit to prologue the pending orgasms that was gathering strength inside me.

"What about you?" I bounced the question back to him, running my fingertips along the smooth flesh of his jaw before settling on his chest to distract myself from the gently onslaught of pleasure his fingers kept delivering.

"If you're comfortable with more, then we don't have to stop after this. I'm happy with either outcome," he beamed, pressing a quick peck to the tip of my chilly nose.

I nodded. "I-I want you to make me cum like this, then. Please." The last word came out more like a whine as he took no time to adjust his rhythm and speed to his new objective.

The feeling of his fingers inside of me was overwhelming, the euphoric pump of ecstasy spreading from his fingers through my body. It flowed through my veins, reaching my arms and legs and making them tighten uncontrollably. My eyes glazed over and my toes curled as the wave of pleasure washed over me.

I gripped tightly onto Joon’s shoulder, pressing my head back against his as the feeling crashed over me. I shut my eyes and tried to breath through the tremendous amount of pressure flowing through me but instead held my breath without a second thought. A ringing filled my ears and I'm sure dark spots would've danced across my vision if I'd kept my eyes open.

I hardly noticed how much my body tensed in his arms. It wasn't until a feeling of relaxation and bliss took me over that I realized I'd trapped his hand between my legs. I quickly released his hand and buried my face into his body with heated cheeks.

"What are you hiding for?" He chuckled, the vibrations moving through his neck and chest to tickle at my face.

"Mm. I can't believe I did that."

I could hear the smile in his voice as he responded with, "I can I always believe in you."

I laughed at his sappiness, ignoring the way it made my heart race and brought fresh tears to my eyes. I brushed my nose along his neck, pressing little kisses to his flushed skin while I reached for the little foil packet I placed under the pillow earlier.

Once it was within my reach, I waved it in front of us both, keeping my face buried in him for the time being. My cheeks couldn't get any hotter but I didn't think I could handle the heat of his knowing gaze on me.

He gingerly took it from my hand before rubbing soft shaped into my back, coaxing me to come out of hiding. I poked my head out to meet his soft eyes, nuzzling into his knuckles as he skimmed them across my face.

"Are you sure?" He asked once more although we both knew my answer.

I rubbed my thighs together to relieve some of the aching left in the wake of my climax. I surprised myself, feeling the same bubble of pressure grow in me, only it felt like it needed to be popped. It was slightly uncomfortable to have slick coating the inside of my legs, soaking my probably ruined panties and shorts. I found it funny that I out of all people would walk away from Valentine's Day with my first ruined set of underwear. Sort of made me feel victorious in a way. Without bothering to say anything, I slipped off the soaking material, hopefully tossing it somewhere close to the hamper. When I laid back down and coated my naked legs with my own wetness, Joon's eyes snapped down and lock to the movement. I swore he moaned out when he saw me working myself up, almost clumsily pushing down his old sweat and underwear to leave himself bare for me.

He worked  the condom open and pulled it out, tossing the foil to the side. He didn't seem to care whether it landed on the bed or the floor as he kept his sight on my legs. The image was enough to make him grow even harder than he was before.

"Ugh, fuck," he mumbled under his breath as he rolled the condom on. "I forgot how much I hated these things." I couldn't take my eyes off of him, even after he rubbed the cheap condom lube of his hand and wrapped his arms around me again.

I wanted to get used to him, get to know his body and how all the different parts felt against mine. But later. Even as we tackled so much together, I didn't think I had it in me to do those things yet. Yet.

"I want you to sit on me, baby. Can you do that for me? I want to feel you," he whispered in my ear and guided my leg up and over his waist until I straddled over him. Being on top once again made me think back to sitting on his face and how good he felt underneath me.

I sat up and adjusted my position until my soaked core brushed along the underside of his covered cock. The lube on the condom smelled awful and synthetic, making me wrinkled my nose in disgust before a simple peck smoothed it away.

"Here. Hold up." He pushed us up with his hips and legs, moving us back toward the headboard so he could lean up against it. He bent his legs behind me, almost cradling me with his body as we sat there chest to chest, brushing our noses together. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist in a comforting, protective hold, nudging my head back to press his lips onto mine.

I sighed into the kiss, weaving my fingers in his soft locks as I rolled my hips along his hard shaft, consuming the little groan he let out. I pushed myself up from my knees for a moment and Joon took the hint, lowering a hand to pump his cock a few times before rubbing the top against me as a warning. His lips traveled down my jaw before he settled in the crook of my neck, heating it with his warm air and wet kisses.

"Please, Joon," I swallowed and released his hair from my grip, too afraid to hurt him if I got scared. I settled on loosely tangling my arms around his neck and pushing my head to his as I slowly lowered myself down onto him.

The intrusion felt something between uncomfortable stiffness and a sort of completed feeling. I'd only gotten about an inch of him in when I stopped, processing the delicious stretch of his cock when I almost thanked him aloud for prepping me beforehand.

Not that I thought much about it since I never had a need to, but he was  decent size. I wasn't the best person in describing the perfect male specimen but the way he filled me up didn't need any explaining. He left me huffing for more, almost overwhelming me with the first half. We both let out strings of moans as we gripped onto each other for support.

"Mm, Joonie," I whimpered when he met my hips halfway, thrusting up into me with such restraint that it made my eyes roll back. Goosebumps raised the hair on my skin as he filled me to the brim.

I ignored the emotional side of me that wanted to flare up. I wanted to cry in happiness but I pushed it aside. We struggled for so long with me feeling broken and hating myself because of it, so i was going to enjoy the one moment of pure intimacy I had with him.

Neither of us moving drove me crazy, to the point where I lifted myself and rolled my hips back down onto him fully that time. My head fell back as I repeated the movements, grinding myself against him relentlessly.

"O-oh my god," he grunted, fingertips pressing into my hips with enough pressure to leave marks if he wanted to, but I paid no attention to it as a million others floated through my mind. My mind was so flooded that I couldn't differentiate one thought from another.

It didn't take long for my body to adapt to the sweet burn as stretching turned into something way more angelic. We rocked against one another, with me grinding down onto him as he met my thrusts with his own, pulling noises out of us both that I'd never heard before. I drank in those melodic tones coming from the alluring deep voice I adored so much and watched as the throbbing pulse of his heart made the vein in his neck more prominent. Neither of us held back sounds, instead relishing in the way our hips smacked, or the way we breathed -- even the way the headboard banged against the wall behind it.

Namjoon guided the rhythm of my hips with his grip on my waist, his forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made the little hairs that framed his face stick to him as he worked himself closer to orgasm.

My legs grew tired but I still clung onto him with everything I had, everything I felt. Even when didn't lower myself as far as before, he pushed up into me over and over to make sure to hit my g-spit and make me see stars. my legs tensed outside his hips, pressing up against him as my breath became shallow and my body tensed.

"B-baby, I'm close," I panted. I tried to hold back my orgasm for him to get closer to his, but with one powerful stroke into me, the world came shattering down. I wound tightly around him, burying my face into the side of his head to breath in the faint scent of my rose shampoo. I smiled brightly, despite my twitching core and fatigued thighs,  and stroked my fingers through his hair as his length turned soft inside me.

We stayed in that position for what felt like hours. There were a few minutes that I wanted to interrupt the silence to say something but I didn't feel the need to break such a peaceful moment so soon.

Joonie rubbed at my back and held me to him as his breath finally regained its normal pattern. The thrumming of his heart under my chest could've put me to sleep right then and there, even if it was beating as fast as mine was. 

“I love you so much,” he told me with such love and adoration in his voice that for the millionth time that night, I thought I was going to cry.

It was the perfect time to get things off my chest, to tell him how I felt and why I felt that way. How I was proud of him and loved him as much as any living thing could love something.

“You know,” I began before my mouth dried out some. I cleared my throat and tried to continue, “My therapist said something a couple of weeks ago and since she did, I feel… different.” I was the first to move, pulling my head back despite my aching muscles and locked my eyes with his to watch him process everything. He nodded at me with a supportive smile.

“She told me that I wasn’t broken. She said that I’m going through something that a lot of other people -- survivors -- experience. I remember I asked her how they got through it, how they continued to live their lives and even start dating again. You know what she told me? She said that the first thing they did was connect their mind and body back into one, that I needed to be present. Second, I needed a supportive person in my life that would make me feel comfortable, safe, and protected. She told me that a lot of people after having those two things end up trying things out with their partner and it comes naturally. My goal was to feel comfortable and safe and protected enough to be free and let myself go. I trust you more than anything in the world and I love you far more than anyone can love another person. which is why I wanted to show you that you’re the only person capable of healing me.”

A fat tear rolled down my cheek and I moved to catch it, only I was slower than Namjoon. His hands wiped it away and framed my face in his palms. I didn’t miss the way his eyes glittered with unshed tears as he leaned forward and eskimo kissed me before we both let out our own happy giggles.

“This is officially the best Valentine's Day ever. Just don't forget that I love you more.” Joon leaned forward and  grabbed the duvet from behind me, pulling it over the both of us as we sat there together still.

“No. I love you most. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments or just pm me if you want to privately talk. I used a different editing method this time so I hope it turned out okay~

[jamaisjoons]

peach parfait I | ksj

⏤ 𝚜 𝚞 𝚖 𝚖 𝚊 𝚛 𝚢 : you and seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at big hit academy of culinary arts. enemies to lovers au

⏤ 𝚙 𝚊 𝚒 𝚛 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 : seokjin x reader

⏤ 𝚐 𝚎 𝚗 𝚛 𝚎 : fluff, smut, slight? angst

⏤ 𝚠 𝚘 𝚛 𝚍 𝚌 𝚘 𝚞 𝚗 𝚝 : 19k

⏤ 𝚠 𝚊 𝚛 𝚗 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 𝚜 : female solo masturbation, slight nipple play, sex toys - ring vibrator

⏤ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : hello demons!!!!!! welcome to my first ever ksj au!!! it finally happened wow,,,, honestly this wasn’t supposed to be this long but here we are,,,, 19k in on the first part whoops. there will be a second part out [hopefully soon, i already have about 8k of it written] but until then, i hope you enjoy this! // lowkey this was inspired by shokugeki no soma skfjak

⏤ Part I | Part II ⇥ complete

“Kim Seokjin, a perfect 100!” Head Chef Hobeom called out.

Your entire body stiffened as if you had just been drenched in ice-cold water. You could feel the tell-tale scowl already forming on your face, your features twisting in annoyance as you took in the sight of Kim Seokjin’s smug face. His dark, slightly wavy locks fell loosely around his stupid forehead and he was dressed casually, in a plain white t-shirt, further accentuating his unnecessarily broad shoulders. Light wash jeans hung low on his hips, the material of the denim tugging around his ridiculously toned thighs. Not that you were admiring him. No. You would never admire your greatest rival. Which is exactly what he was. Your gaze fell back to his face, his nose slightly scrunched, luscious lips pulled into a half-smirk and eyes shining with mirth.

That smug bastard.

You could hear the screams and cheers from all the female students, and even some male, as Seokjin bowed to the rest of the class while you angrily threw your spatula down. You grumbled to yourself and began cleaning up, ignoring the cheers for Seokjin as best as you could. You knew why you lost. You had made a stupid, rookie mistake. One that you were now kicking yourself for. How the hell had you managed to forget to season the meat before cooking? It was probably the most fundamental step of any recipe and yet in the heat of the moment and under pressurised circumstances, you had completely neglected that crucial step and it had cost you the exam. Well not really, you still passed but Seokjin had scored higher. And now, Seokjin would be able to brag until the next time the two of you faced off. From the corner of your eye, you watched Seokjin saunter over to you and immediately growled to yourself, eyes narrowing.

Great, now he was here to gloat.

“Hey ____, that’s what, my three hundred and fifty-eighth win? Who’s winning right now? Cause according to my count it’s me” Seokjin taunts, his tone laced in both arrogance and glee. You could feel your eyebrow twitch, taking a deep breath before turning around, your eyes in slits as you scrutinised his smug face.

“Until the next round. You forget before this round, we were both tied at three hundred and fifty-seven” You spit out, tone saturated with hate and loathing. Seokjin, however, is unbothered, letting out a little snicker.

“Yeah we were both tied but you could have won this round. I can’t believe you lost because you didn’t salt the meat. Slacking a bit, aren’t you? Isn’t seasoning the most basic rule of cooking? Do you need to go back to the first year? Or if you really want, I could teach you? I think you’d benefit from my classes. We could call it, cooking for dummies: back to the basics” Seokjin jeers and you let out a low growl, slamming your most prized knife back into its case as you continue cleaning up your station. You’re trying not to let his words get to you, but you can’t help it. He’s completely right. You could have won if you had simply seasoned the god damned meat.

“Oh, bite me Seokjin, we’ve all done it once or twice. Or did you forget the time you forgot the soy sauce in a chow mein? A dish which is basically just noodles, bean sprouts and soy sauce. So, do us both a favour and kindly fuck off, I have pastry class now,” You sneer and Seokjin laughs as you grab your knife set before storming away. You can feel his eyes on your back the entire time, the hairs on your neck standing in irritation. You can still hear his stupid squeaky laugh up until you leave the class.

Once out, you take in a deep breath and calm yourself down, face pulled into a frown. There were many reasons you had lost that match. Many reasons the flavours of the dish didn’t tie in together as well as they should have. The biggest reason, was, of course, the lack of salt on the meat resulting in a bland tasting dish despite the number of spices and herbs mixed into the sauce. You had also overcooked the butter, leading to a slightly smoked flavour that offset the dish and because of that, you hadn’t been able to sauté the onions long enough and thus they weren’t caramelised enough to compliment the beef. You continued muttering what had gone wrong with the dish to yourself, noting them down so that next time you could and would beat Seokjin at his own game.

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin asked and you snapped out of your daze, slightly startled by your best friend appearing out of nowhere. You looked around, brows knitting in bewilderment as you wonder just when you’d gotten to class. Had you been lost in your thoughts that long?

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. I was lost in my own head” You said as you popped your knives under the counter and slipped your apron on, washing your hands before taking your place at one of the many counters in the room, awaiting the chef’s arrival.

“It seemed like you were mumbling about food. Oh wait, today was your exam with Jin-hyung wasn’t it? I take it, it didn’t end well” Jimin says and you scowl at him.

“I forgot to salt the fucking meat. And as usual, perfect Kim Seokjin’s dish was faultless. So yeah, that ass won” You lament and Jimin’s face scrunched in concern.

“You did pass the exam though yes?” Jimin asked, worry laced in his tone and you quickly shot him an exasperated look. Of course, you had passed. Failure in exams resulted in expulsion, no questions asked.

That was the reason Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts was the best culinary school in the entirety of Asia. Less than 5% of the students who enter graduate. The Head Chef’s at the school pushed until you were tired and pushed even more after. The academy had no place for people who couldn’t stand the heat of the kitchen nor the pressure or competition. And you’d be damned if you weren’t in the top 5% of graduates. Of course, graduating paid off handsomely. Graduates from Big Hit were guaranteed to get jobs in the most prestigious of restaurants across the world. The Big Hit name carried weight; hell, even if you made it to the third year before failing would guarantee you a job in a high class, albeit small restaurant.

“Jimin, if I failed, I wouldn’t be here. I passed the exam. I came second, after stupid Seokjin. I scored a 95 whereas he scored a perfect 100” You replied and Jimin beamed at you, his eyes scrunching up into half-moons.

“That’s great ____! You should be really proud of that” Jimin says cheerily but at the annoyance still carved in your face, he deflates, rolling his eyes at you in exasperation.

“It’s in 90s ____. Some people would kill for that score. Some people never even reach that boundary, you and Seokjin-hyung are the only two to consistently get scores over 90 so stop pouting. Besides, I don’t understand why you both still go head to head. You’re trained in completely different backgrounds. Of course, Jin-hyung was going to do better on the exam. He’s a rotisseur. Someone who is trained and specialised in cooking meat and savoury dishes. You’re a god damn pâtissier. You bake bread and make desserts. They’re two completely different ballparks” Jimin, forever the voice of reason, argues and you shrug.

“It’s just always been like that. Ever since we both entered this academy. Besides we didn’t always specialise in what we do now. There was a time when we both cooked whatever. We still do. We just tend to focus on our specialities more now. You know the best chefs are experts in all disciplines and masters in their own discipline,” You refute and Jimin nods, barely paying attention to you now.

“Please don’t throw Headmaster Bang’s words at me. I still can’t believe he does that exact same speech at the start of every year. But I guess you’re correct. Besides, according to everyone, including the head chefs, you both are the best chefs this academy has seen in years. It’s alright though, the next exam is a sweet based one isn’t it? He’s never beaten you on one of those,” Jimin says offhandedly, as he too starts preparing for class and you nod.

It was true.

Ever since you entered Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts those three years ago, you and Seokjin had gone head to head countless – except of course you both kept count – of times. But it was almost predictable at this point. If the exam had anything to do with baked goods or desserts, you would score nothing less than a perfect 100. You were currently unrivalled in the academy when it came to desserts. However, the same could be said for Seokjin and any meat dishes. He too had yet to score less than a perfect 100 on any of his dishes that included meat. Hence, you both would win those respectively and those exams were almost predictable. However, there were anomalies. If either of you were in an exam for fish, sauces or any specific cuisines, it was anyone’s game. Sometimes Seokjin scored higher; sometimes you would. Hence, the two of you were tied at three hundred and fifty-seven wins each. That was until today. When Seokjin took the lead with his latest win.

You scowled once more.

Stupid Seokjin and his stupid pretty face and stupid cooking skills.

“Alright. Welcome to today’s exam. As mentioned before, the theme is Chantilly cream. You will find an assortment of ingredients at your counter. You may prepare whatever you want, so long as you only use the ingredients at your counter. You have two hours to complete your dishes. You may begin,” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you immediately begin looking at your ingredients. This was one of the hardest challenges; everyone was given ingredients and could prepare whatever you wanted. However, you were limited by your ingredient supply and variety.

Your eyes quickly scanned over all the ingredients; butter, flour, vanilla extract; strawberries; cream; chocolate; sugar. Damn no eggs. You discarded any recipe at the top of your head that would need eggs. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and your eyes lit up with excitement. You quickly began gathering the ingredients before grabbing any equipment you’d need. You looked up briefly, taking in the sight of the other student chefs, panic etched into their faces. Your eyes fleetingly wandered over to Seokjin, who like you, had already begun grabbing ingredients. You scowled slightly before going through the recipe in your head.

You slowly began to work, beginning by creating your base. You submersed yourself into creating the dough, white dust puffing up in a cloud around you as you added the flour. Your shoulders relaxed, fingers moving in soft circles as you incorporated the butter into the flour. Briefly, you glanced up, slightly startled when you realised Seokjin was watching you work. As soon as your eyes made contact, he winked at you. You felt the vein in your head pop and immediately grew agitated. Sneering at him, you went back to focusing on your kneading, now a lot less gentle than before as you began pounding the dough, working out your frustration with Seokjin on it.

Realising the force behind your kneading, you quickly stopped, fearing that you’d overwork it resulting in a tough pastry. Wrapping it in clingfilm, you placed it into the fridge to cool before taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t allow Kim Seokjin to crawl under your skin. No matter how irritatingly handsome he was. Wait- where had that come from? You quickly shook your head, thinking over your recipe as you hurry to begin your next step lest you run out of time. You grabbed the strawberries, as needlessly red as Seokjin’s lips, chopping off the leaves before dumping them into a saucepan along with vanilla bean paste, a squeeze of orange juice and cinnamon. Your secret ingredients to enhance the flavour of the strawberry coulis and gain an edge over whatever Seokjin had planned.

You waited for the strawberry mixture to begin boiling, stirring continuously as it began to reduce. The task was mindless and involuntarily your thoughts wandered off to Seokjin, a frown marring your face. You couldn’t resist chancing another glance at him, brows furrowing when you realised he was placing cake tins into the oven. An eggless cake? You scoff haughtily. Most of the other students were also making eggless cakes. You turned your attention back to your saucepan, the strawberries were completely mushy and reduced, leaving a thick scarlet sauce. You grabbed a bowl and strained it, removing any clumps of skin or seeds and leaving a completely clear coulis. Placing it to the side, you checked your timer before grabbing your dough out of the fridge.

Moving onto your next step, you grabbed your previously abused dough from the fridge. The heels of your palm pressed into the soft, chilled dough as you began working it once again. Once you deemed it was ready, you grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling and folding it into what was to become your puff pastry. From your peripheral vision, you noticed that Seokjin was idly standing around, leaning against his counter in a completely relaxed position. Your brows furrowed, wondering just why he was sitting around doing nothing when the timer was still running. You cursed internally; why the hell were you so caught up in what Seokjin was doing? He was your rival. If he failed, it worked out better for you. But that didn’t sit well with you. You wanted to win on your own merit, wanted to be better than him because you were better; not because he threw the exam. You look up once again, locking eyes with him.

This time, when your eyes meet Seokjin simply stares. Against your will, you send him a questioning, albeit concerned look. Seokjin reels slightly in surprise before he composes himself. His hand moves and soon he’s blowing you a kiss causing you to roll your eyes at his antics. You hear the female students swoon, cheers surrounding the entire class causing you to roll your eyes. Seokjin simply ignored them, smirking at you before getting to work on whatever he needed to. Satisfied that he was taking this seriously, you turned back to your dough. Realising it was ready, the butter marbled perfectly through the flour; you wrapped it in cling film again before placing it in the fridge once again.

Taking a look at the timer, you realised you had just under an hour. Clearing up your counter hurriedly, you began preheating the oven. The last bits would undoubtedly be the easiest; just whip the cream with vanilla and sugar in order to satisfy the Chantilly cream requirement and you’d be golden. All of a sudden, your individual timer went off; you swiftly wipe your hands clean and pulled the dough from the fridge once again, this time rolling it out and cutting it into perfect rectangles, placing them into the oven. Then, you continued clearing up, realising Seokjin was doing the same.

Both of you had your bases in the oven, which meant, you’d both most likely finish around the same time. Although, he was a bit pressed for time. It’d most likely take him longer to assemble and decorate his cake than you would. You both had about forty-five minutes left. It was time to get serious. You pulled your pastry out of the oven, ensuring they were golden and crisp, but more importantly, cooked all the way through. You needed to cool them quick; you walked to the blast chiller, depositing your tray into the machine. You turned around and bumped into someone, immediately apologising before you looked up and realised it was Seokjin.

“Hey ____” Seokjin sing songs, looking down at you with a small smirk, his voice playful, and you instantly rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. You watch as he carefully places his tins into the machine, just under your tray. The two of you stay by the chiller, your arms crossed as you look around at all the other chefs, some of who were panicking as they ran out of time.

“Looks like we’re both going to be in the top again,” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you snort.

“When are we not at the top?” You snidely retort. It’s a rhetorical question considering both of you were always in the top and Seokjin knew that. Seokjin simply shrugs, looking back at you, his eyes glistening with something you just can’t seem to place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it was pride. But there was no reason for him to be proud of you. In fact, if it was pride, it’d mainly because he was proud of himself.

“So, what are you making? Didn’t look like a cake” Seokjin asks casually and you feel your eyebrow twitch. It seemed to do that a lot whenever he was involved.

“If you can’t tell then maybe you should just drop out” You sarcastically respond and Seokjin laughs in that squeaky, carefree way that he does, that leaves you wanting to punch him in the throat.

“Well I know you’re making a mille-feuille, I just thought you’d make something a bit more interesting, you know? I guess I overestimated your skills” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you can feel the nerve on your forehead throb in anger.

“Excuse me? Those are big words coming from someone making a cake” You retort and Seokjin shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m not the pâtissier out of the two of us, am I?” He replies with a smirk and your fingers twitch, the urge to smack him coursing through your palms. How dare he? How dare he just come here and insult you like that!

“Anyway, my cakes should be cool now. See you at the end. Maybe I’ll win this round,” Seokjin says with a wink and your eyes widen before you let out an incredulous laugh.

“I don’t think so, Kim. You have yet to beat me when it comes to desserts” You replied smugly and Seokjin snickers, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“There’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ll forget to add sugar to your dish, who knows” Seokjin taunts and you clench your jaw lest you scream at him.

That bastard.

As if you would ever make such a stupid mistake in your own discipline. That ass. One day you’d wipe that stupid smirk off of his stupidly pretty face. Really who was that stupidly pretty?!

You grab your tray from the blast chiller and stalk over to your counter, grumbling the entire time. You’d show him. You quickly whip up the Chantilly cream, ensuring it’s stiff but light and flavoured just right before you carefully begin assembling your mille-feuille. You place the first pastry layer on the presentation dish, dusting it with a light coating of icing sugar before pipping on the cream over, garnishing with the strawberries and drizzling a sparing layer of the coulis. Not too much; just enough to enhance the flavour but not enough to turn the pastry, that you worked so hard into making crispy and flaky, soggy. You continue layering until you hit the third and last layer.

You place the pastry gently on top, making sure all the edges line up. When satisfied, you pipe small dollops of cream, topping them off with strawberries and mint leaves to add some vibrant colours to your dish. You quickly glance at the time, smiling when you realise you have just enough to finish with a light dusting of icing sugar and cinnamon and then clear up so your counter is sparklingly clean. You finish up quickly and then gently cover up your dish. It’s a beautiful concoction of reds, greens, whites and golden brown. The dessert almost makes your mouth water and you know you’re sure to pass. It may not be extravagant but it was perfect.

“A minute left. Please start bringing your dishes up” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you grab your dish, walking up to the judges. You place yours down and bow, the chefs all smiling at you. From the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin bring up his own dish and briefly, very, very briefly you wonder what would happen if you just tripped him up. However, both of you believed in the integrity of healthy competition and neither of you had ever sabotaged each other before. So instead, you just glared at the huge expanse of the back of his shoulders as he walked up to the table, placing his own dish down.

Soon, other students began bringing up their dishes and you winced slightly at some of them. Even now, in the third year, people made stupid mistakes when cooking. It was why these exams took place, to put people under the time pressure and stress they’d face when in the kitchen of their own restaurants someday. One person had forgotten to cool down their cake and thus the cream was slowly melting. It seemed like another hadn’t had enough time to cook their cake, causing it to collapse in the middle. You grimaced at those two; a mishap that big was sure to lead in failure and as a result expulsion.

Sadly, Seokjin’s cake was as beautiful as your mille-feuille, with pristine piping, delectable, soft-looking peaks of Chantilly cream and a vibrant array of fruit from kiwis to summer berries. There wasn’t much you could fault him for in his presentation. Even when compared to your perfect dessert. The deciding factor would be the taste. You were sure of it.

The judging process slowly began, and slowly people were eliminated. The two who had panicked had received 0s like you had predicted. Other than that, the lowest score was 46 and the highest so far 78. And then, Head Chef Sejin looked at you and Seokjin. He regarded you both with smiles and you immediately feel nervous. Chef Sejin was currently the best pâtissier in Asia and he was your idol. No matter how many times he judged and approved of your work, you still got nervous, hoping it was up to his expectations.

“I take it you two are competing again?” Head Chef Sejin asks and both you and Seokjin nod, causing Chef Sejin to laugh. Your rivalry with Seokjin was widely known throughout the school, most people anticipating it. The Head Chefs even actively encouraged the friendly competition, sometimes pitting other students against each other in order to drive them further and give them a purpose, a reason to excel and do better than they already could. Of course, you and Seokjin had been non-stop competing for three years now.

“Alright then, Seokjin, I believe you are the current winner, from your last exam? Would you like to go first?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin nods. You watch with bated breath as Chef Sejin cuts up the cake, the judges oohing at the soft, airy texture of the sponge. How he managed that without eggs, you’d forever be surprised but you wouldn’t dare openly compliment him. The judges begin tasting small bites, all smiling and noting down their scores. They quickly look at each other, discussing the results and then Chef Sejin smiles at Seokjin.

“Truly, a beautiful sponge. Airy and soft, despite the lack of eggs provided. How did you manage this?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin smiles.

“I substituted the butter for oil to give the sponge a lighter texture and added both baking soda and baking powder with a little bit of lemon juice react with the two powders to make it airier,” Seokjin says simply and the corner of your lip twitches. Damn him.

“Ah, of course. A wonderful job, and 98, the highest score of the class so far. And now for ____ 's mille-feuille” Chef Sejin compliments Seokjin before looking at you kindly; however, your shoulders stiffen. That was an awfully high score. It meant you now had to score a 99 or perfect 100 in order to beat him. You could feel the hairs on your spine stand as you anxiously awaited the judging of your own dessert. You were almost sure it was perfect, to you it was. And granted, you’d never scored anything less than a perfect on a dessert or bread dish. But Seokjin was right. There was a first time for everything.

There could be a number of times in the future when your dish wouldn’t score a perfect. Today could be one of those times. You watched with bated breath as the judges cut up your mille-feuille, the pastry crackling under the knife before it glided through the cream and fruit. You sucked in a deep breath, watching as the judges daintily put a spoonful of the pastry and cream into their mouths. It was as if time moved slowly. Every chew, every ooh and ah. The palpitating of your heart pounded in your eardrums, your palms behind your back sweaty, wrists wringing nervously. Chef Sejin placed his fork down and then the judges began writing down their own scores. You can feel Seokjin near you but you’re too tense to even give him a second thought. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, a knowing look on his face. You don’t notice the way he lets out a small, displeased sigh before shaking his head.

“Once again ____, you’ve outdone yourself. This was… absolutely perfect. The texture of the pastry was crumbly and flaky, cooked to perfection. The cream soft but stiff and the sweetness of the strawberries are cut beautifully by the cinnamon and tanginess of the orange in the coulis. Truly a masterpiece. Congratulations, another perfect 100” Chef Sejin compliments and you release your breath, grinning brightly at the older man despite your still shaky hands. You quickly bow in thanks, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you beam with pride. The chefs thank all the students before they begin leaving. You spin on your heels, grinning at Seokjin.

“Well, Seokjin. That brings us both to three hundred and fifty-eight. I believe that means it’s another tie. Of course, I’ll be sure to win the next round” You say and Seokjin looks down at you, his face blank. Your fists clench slightly because despite his blank expression, you can still see the slight disappointment in his eyes and you know it’s not because he lost.

“Any first-year could have made that. Like I said, I was hoping for something more. Besides, win? Lose? Who cares, at the end of the day, I still have this face. Therefore, who is the real winner here?” Seokjin says and with that, he walked away. You can feel your cheeks and ears burn with rage, your fists clenched on either side of your body. And that was exactly why you’d never compliment him on anything, his dishes, his looks or anything. Because not once, not a single time had he ever admitted your dishes were good or that you had done well. All he ever did was criticise you and your work.

God, you hated him.

Storming into your apartment, you slam the door shut, the vibrations reverberating through the room. You stomp into the living room, throwing your stuff haphazardly onto the sofa before making your way into your bedroom. You let out a frustrated scream, flinging yourself into the bed before kicking your legs rather childishly. You could not believe him. Where did he get off telling you that any first-year could have made your mille-feuille? It was perfect! You’d pay any first-year 500,000 won if they could replicate it!

You scowl into your pillow, eyes narrowed as your blood boils at the thought of Seokjin’s words. He was honestly so full of himself. You couldn’t wait to triumph over him and put him in his place. Granted, it would only last for a short time. But still! You were determined to come out on top. His words flash through your head once again and you let out another scream, this time muffled by your pillow. You grabbed your pillow and threw it against the wall, finally working out most of your frustration.

You sat up with a groan, a scowl still on your face. Your shoulders were tense and your back ached from standing up all day cooking. A shower, you decide, was the best course to work off not only the day’s grime but also to calm you down. You tut slightly at yourself, reprimanding yourself for allowing Seokjin to work you up so much. Getting off your bed, you stripped down to just your panties, exhaling with relief as soon as your breasts were out of the wretched cage that was your bra.

Stepping into the en-suite bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting it heat up for a few minutes before stepping in. With a loud sigh, you let the hot water run along your body. The heat of the water, powered with the steam, slowly worked your exhaustion and frustration out. You felt your sore muscles slowly relaxing, rolling your shoulders to remove the kinks. You lathered your body in soap, allowing the loofa to gently exfoliate your skin. It was almost ritualistic, with each stroke you could feel your ire at Seokjin slowly decreasing.

You spend another fifteen minutes under the shower, letting the hot water run over your body. Finally, when your fingers start pruning, you decide to step out. Wrapping a large fluffy terry cloth towel around yourself, you pad bag into your bedroom. As much as the shower has helped, you still can’t help but feel the slightest bit of tension persist in your muscles. Your eyes flick to beside your bed and you make a split-second decision. 

Crawling in bed, you made yourself comfy. You slowly unwrapped the towel from your body, dropping it to the floor. You shivered slightly, your nipples hardening from the cool air. The difference in temperate from the steamy bathroom to your cool bedroom was highly noticeable, especially considering you were completely naked. You relaxed further, sinking into your bed as you’re hand slowly drifted down to your stomach, working your way towards your naked sex. Your body was already slowly heating up and you can no longer register the chill of the room against your still slightly damp body.

Your fingers circled your belly button, your skin prickling under the sensation as you gradually lose yourself in the pleasurable haze, your breath hitching. Without a second thought, your hand slowly worked down towards your wettening pussy, letting out a low groan when your hand brushed lightly against your clit, the small bundle of nerves hardening against your hand. You loosely played with your slit, a finger barely dipping in before pulling out, spreading your wetness all over your lips.

You bit your lip at the sensation, needing more but wanting to draw out the feeling. Involuntarily, you rolled your hips, trying to get more friction against your hands, your breathing heavy now. Unconsciously, one of your hands moved to your breast and your eyes immediately slipped shut. You imagined a faceless man, with dark hair and broad shoulders hovering over you. You imagined it was his hand playing with your nipple instead, rolling your breast in his palms before flicking the nipple with his thumb. Vaguely, the man you’d imagined looked familiar to you, but in your lust induced haze, you didn’t care.

You moved your second hand to your other breast, lightly squeezing and massaging, pinching one nipple between your thumb and forefinger as the other continued rolling your other nipple. You let out a shuddering breath, hips now grinding against the bed as you pussy cried out for attention, weeping with your arousal. Your nipple aches against the hand pinching it, the delicious pain only making you cry out weakly at the sensation. You squeeze harder, twisting slightly and moaning at the sharper pain before releasing it. Desire burned in your veins, imagining the man squeezing even harder, wishing his puffy pink lips could wrap around them. Pink lips? When did the faceless man have lips?

Your mind floods with fervour, mouth dry as if all your wetness seeped from it towards your aching cunt. A wanton cry escapes your lips, your sex crying out to be touched, to give it some friction and relieve the ache deep within your cunt. You raise your knees slightly before spreading your thighs almost obscenely, shivering at the sensation of the cold air against your hot, needy pussy. Your fingers flit against the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. You’re so close and you curse yourself for drawing out the pleasure for this long. You still imagine the man is over you; it’s him that’s teasing you and you now find yourself cursing him.

You gingerly move your fingers to your folds, back arching slightly. Your nerves are afire, your lust seeping into every pore in your body. Fingers slowly splay your pussy open, and you imagine it’s the faceless man’s crooked fingers instead of your own, shuddering once again at the cold air. The heady, musky scent of your arousal fills the room. Every one of your senses is clogged by desire; your arousal is so thick that you can both smell and taste it. You can feel the stickiness between your legs, your juices coating your thighs and you can hear the slight squelching of your pussy lips.

A prolonged, needy groan escapes your throat as your fingers finally come into contact with your hard clit. Your middle finger pushed down, pressing into the bundle and you exhale breathily, rolling it under the pad of your fingertip. Your finger slowly pushed down, spreading your lips and wetness coating your pussy before you curl your finger back towards your bud. You cry out again and again as you work your clit over and over again but you need more.

You blindly reach over to your bedside table, opening the draw as you continue playing with your clit. You open the drawer, reaching inside and feeling around until you touch the cool plastic of your vibrator ring. You claw at it, grabbing it before reluctantly removing your hand from your clit. You slip the ring onto your finger, before switching it on. Your hand hastily moves back to your sex and you cry out at the low reverberations of the vibrator strumming against your clit, eyes almost rolling back.

Your pussy is on fire, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably; your abdomen flips and tightens, your orgasm slowly nearing. But you’re still missing something. You let the vibrator rest against your clit, stimulating you over and over again, your heart beating rapidly, thundering in your ears. You suddenly plunge one finger into you, mewling at the sensation, imagining it was the man’s long crooked fingers instead, while simultaneously wishing your fingers were longer. Slowly, you press a second finger into you, wincing at the stretch before your mouth gapes open in pleasure. You imagine it’s the faceless man who is rapidly sinking two fingers into you, his plush lips pulled into a small smirk, nose slightly scrunched and strong, thick eyebrows furrowed as he brings you the most pleasure you’ve had in a while. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to even realise the faceless man’s features slowly forming.

Your cunt feels like velvet, gripping and rippling against your fingers, leaking with your arousal. Your hips grind down against your hand, thrusting into them as you force your clit harder against the vibrating ring, trying to press your fingers deeper into your cunt. You press a third finger in, wincing even more at the stinging sensation and the stretch but you need more and so you persevere against the pain, pushing deeper and deeper until your pussy swallows all three of your fingers. You almost shriek, pistoning them in harder, in and out, repetitively.

You grind harder and harder, moaning and groaning, eyes rolling back into your skull as you pant. Your orgasm is so close. Your pussy is dripping all over your hand and you’re sure you’ve left a slight puddle of your juices on your bedsheets but you don’t care. You push your hips harder once again and curl your fingers, pressing the pad against the rough skin of your g-spot. The overwhelming sensations of your thrusting fingers against the spongy highly sensitised skin inside you paired with the vibration against your clit has your legs trembling.

You feel yourself climbing higher and higher until finally, you release. You let out a stuttering scream. Your orgasm ricochets through you faster than you can process. You cry out louder, chasing your high and riding your fingers. Your walls ripple uncontrollably against your fingers, savouring the touch and high as you tremble and quake violently, legs spasming as you press the vibrator harder against your clit. You let the tide of your climax wash through you, carrying you along with the wave and drowning you in intoxication until you finally pull out, the sensitivity in your cunt too much to handle.

You breathe heavily, the buzzing of the vibrator still continuous as you come down from your high. You pant, your skin flushed and tingling from the post aftershocks of your orgasm, your sweat matted hair sticking to your forehead. Your brain slowly adjusts, pulling itself out of the lust-filled cloud it had found itself in. The man slowly faded from your mind’s eye. You let out a satiated sigh, wondering just who you had been imagining. Deciding not to dwell too much of it however, you slowly pull yourself under the covers, allowing sleep to take you.

It’s a week later when you see him. The exam period had ended and once again, the two of you were tied at three hundred and ninety-six each. You were getting frustrated which each and every win and loss. The balance had to tip in someone’s favour. You couldn’t keep winning and losing against him forever. You couldn’t tie forever. Someone had to give. You’re currently stood in the assembly area; you and the rest of the third-year students all gathered. A slight sense of dread fills you. You have no idea why you’ve all been gathered together, but it cannot be good. Headmaster Bang was known for throwing loops into the student’s schedules; planning hard tasks after exams to weed out the worst chefs and to have the top of the top chefs further excel.

“____!” Jimin called, running up to you with Jungkook and Taehyung in tow. You waved and smiled at the two of them. You were glad they had made it passed the exams. Jimin, was your best friend; the two of you as thick as thieves since your first class when Jimin had somehow preheated the oven too high, resulting in the glass shattering from heat and pressure. Don’t get it wrong, Jimin was a wonderful chef, albeit a bit clumsy. His own speciality was spice. The boy could create spicy foods that had your mouth screaming and your throat burning and yet you couldn’t help but spoon more mouthfuls as it was just that addicting. Jungkook was a ramen specialist. Give the boy some noodles and an array of ingredients and he could create a bountiful concoction of savoury flavours that would make anyone’s mouths water. Including yours. And finally, there was poor Taehyung.

You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to progress to the third year. He wasn’t bad per se but he wasn’t Academy level either. But somehow, he’d survived to the third year. His foods couldn’t rival with the top of the academy, but there was something about Taehyung’s food. It tasted like home. Kind of like a mother’s love. Homey and comforting. It may not have been perfect and he may not be at the top of the academy, but it was his. A style completely unique to Taehyung. The kind of comfort food you crave when sick or hungover, the food you crave after a broken heart, the food you crave when you miss home or your family. Soul food. That was Taehyung’s speciality.

The four of you stood quietly chatting amongst yourselves, wondering what Headmaster Bang had prepared for the third-year students. You continue looking around, realising that the exams had resulted in even more expulsions. At the start of your third year, there were roughly three hundred students still left and now, there were only about half of that, maybe a few more. The hair at the nape of your neck stands on edge and you feel the presence of someone behind you. You quickly turn around, yelping when you come face to chest with someone. You look up and almost growl when you’re met with Seokjin’s face. He’s surrounded by his best friends, Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Is there a reason you’re so close to me, asshole?” You scorn and Seokjin smirks down at you.

“Awfully hostile today, aren’t we ____?” Seokjin jests and you feel your eyebrow begin to twitch. Honestly, at this point, it was almost like a reflex whenever he was concerned.

“Can we not have a single time when we meet that you both don’t fight?” Namjoon asks and you pout. Namjoon was similar to Taehyung, as in no one had any idea how he’d managed to make it into the third year with next to no cooking skills. He was clumsy, often hurt himself in the kitchen and made stupid mistakes like the time he put his hand in boiling water to check if his udon noodles were done. However, if there was one thing Namjoon was good at, it was leading. He was incredibly intelligent with vast amounts of charisma and patience, all which made him excellent at any leadership role. Consequently, that was why he was training to be a restaurant manager rather than a chef. The boy couldn’t cook to save his life, but no one could run and lead a restaurant better than he could.

“He started it!” You childishly reply and Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head while Yoongi huffs.

“You’re not six ____,” Yoongi reprimands and once again you pout. Yoongi was a master fermenter. Anything from alcohol to cheeses, if you could ferment it, Yoongi would master it and ensure that anything he fermented was the highest quality.

“It’s not like Jin-hyung doesn’t act six himself whenever ____ is concerned” Hoseok defends and you quickly send him an appreciative glance, causing him to wink at you. Hoseok, for as bright and bubbly as he was, was a demon in the kitchen. Specifically, if it included seafood. He could butcher a hanging monkfish with precision unlike any other and deshell and plate a lobster blindfolded. The man was legendary when it came to seafood.

See the worst thing about Seokjin, were his friends. Not because you hated them or anything, your rivalry was with Seokjin and Seokjin only. Your hatred stemmed from the fact that they were also your friends. The issue was that both his friendship group and yours were pretty damn integrated, meaning that even outside of class you had to sometimes see and interact with him. Although, most of those interactions ended up with either the both of you challenging each other to another cook-off or you screaming and stomping away from how ridiculously annoying he could be. Before either you or Seokjin can retaliate, you notice everyone begin to stand straighter. You quickly turn back around to the podium, watching all the academy head chefs begin bowing as Headmaster Bang walks onto the stage. You take a deep breath, steeling in all your nerves for whatever he was about to announce.

“Good afternoon. You’re all probably wondering why, just after your last exams, I’ve gathered all third years here. Well, that is because passing those exams means that you are one step closer to your goals. Graduating from Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts. For decades, my family has cultivated the best chefs in Asia through this academy. This academy has a reputation for producing the best of the best. However, that comes at a price. The exams are increasingly difficult and any failures result in immediate expulsion. However, this process has led to the production of world-class chef graduates. Congratulations to all of you who have made it here today. But, your assessment doesn’t end there. With the end of your exams, comes your next challenge” Headmaster Bang begins and as soon as the words leave his mouth, you hear everyone begin to groan.

“You are all third years, soon to graduate. However, we cannot let you graduate without first-hand experience of working in a restaurant. Therefore, you will all be paired up and placed in a restaurant for a week. Each restaurant has a different passing criterion, meaning the condition to pass in one restaurant will be different from the condition to pass in another. Anyone who fails to meet their criteria will fail and be expelled. Pairings are based on your performance within the academy within the last three years. Now, we will begin calling out your pairings along with the restaurant you will be working at” Headmaster Bang concludes and you let out a little sigh, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to catch a break for the next week at least.

Your small group of friends listen as names are called out along with pairings. Namjoon and Taehyung are paired together, which makes sense considering both of them somehow fail half their classes; Namjoon due to his lack of cooking skills – knowledge only helps so much – and Taehyung because of how nervous he can get during exams. Jimin and Hoseok are also paired off together with Yoongi and Jungkook making up another pair. You snicker slightly, wondering which idiot would be stuck with Seokjin considering all your friends are now paired up. You grin mirthfully when Headmaster Bang calls out Seokjin’s name, listening eagerly for the name of his poor, poor partner.

“Kim Seokjin and _____ _____, you will be in Hunan, a small Chinese restaurant. Please see head chef Hobeom for details” Headmaster Bang calls out and you immediately pale when your name is called out. Now that you thought about it, of course, it was you. Your grades were only matched by Seokjin so of course, it was you who was his poor, poor partner.

“Well, guess it’s you and me partner” You hear Seokjin snigger against your ear and immediately feel despair wash over you at his overly pleased tone.

This was, undoubtedly, going to be the worst week of your life.

A couple days later, you find yourself staring curiously at the restaurant your challenge would be taking place at. The academy had arranged for you and Seokjin to stay in a nearby hotel considering the restaurant was pretty far from campus. However, the more you look at the restaurant, the more you’re confused. It’s completely empty. At first, you had thought that perhaps it was just closed; but that wasn’t the case. The sign read open, the lights were on and you could see the staff milling about idly inside, doing nothing as they stared out the window. You frowned slightly before checking the time. It read 7:30pm, which was prime time for a restaurant to be busy. You looked around, the streets were bustling and other restaurants were full of happy customers. So why was this one completely empty?

“Weird isn’t it? I wonder why it’s empty” a voice says from right beside your ear and you immediately jump, almost screaming at the sudden presence of someone next to you. Seokjin lets out a shrill laugh, shoulders shaking as he watches you glare at him.

“Don’t fucking do that you ass!” You reprimand with a glower, Seokjin shrugging.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. I did say hi, you just weren’t listening” Seokjin says and a small part of you wants to slap him but you know that won’t get you anywhere. So instead, you take a deep breath and calm yourself down.

“Whatever. Let’s go” You say, approaching the restaurant. The two of you enter, the staff immediately standing with bright, hopeful grins as one of the wait staff approaches both of you with menus.

“Hello! Welcome to Hunan! Table for two?” The man asks with a bright smile. So, the emptiness of the restaurant didn't have anything to do with the customer service then. You look at him sheepishly before bowing.

“We apologise, we’re not here to dine. We’re the students from Big Hit Academy, we’re here to work in your restaurant for a week” You say apologetically and the staff deflate immediately.

“I see. Let me go get the owner” The waiter says and you nod before watching him disappear into the back. A couple moments later, he returns, this time with a young, slender woman.

“Hello! You must be ____ and Seokjin! Thank you so much for coming. I’m Wei Meilin, but you can call me Mei. I’m both the owner and the chef of Hunan” She says, greeting you both with a bow. You and Seokjin both introduce yourselves with a small bow too.

“How can we help you?” Seokjin asks and Mei sighs, looking around forlornly.

“As you can see, my restaurant is completely empty. This has been happening for a while actually. You see, I was gifted this restaurant by my parents because it’s been my lifelong dream to own an authentic Chinese restaurant. It’s even in a prime location and the restaurant is newly renovated. But I can’t seem to draw in customers at all. That’s where you guys come in. I need help to bring in customers” Mei says and you immediately blanch. So, your entire challenge was to prevent a restaurant from going bankrupt and closing down? How the hell were you supposed to do that?

“We’ll try our hardest! But first, do you have any idea why the restaurant could be failing?” Seokjin asks and you gape at him, completely agog. Did he really believe there was a chance the two of you could save this place? You were just students, granted at the top of your class in the best culinary academy in Asia, but still, this seemed almost like an impossible task.

“Honestly, it could just be due to the competition. When I first opened, we had customers who wanted to try the new restaurant and business was good at first. But considering there are a number of Chinese restaurants around here, we just started losing customers until it became like this” Mei says, looking slightly downcast. Your heart gripes for her and you send her a reassuring smile, solidifying your resolve.

“We’ll help you in any way we can! By the end of this week, your restaurant will be back on its feet!” You say, determination sparkling in your eyes. Mei’s eyes widen and she immediately nods, fists balling up as she pumps them.

“I’ll show you both to the kitchen! I don’t know how I can help you because I’ve tried everything, but if you have any ideas please let me know! I’ll be in the office going over the books” Mei says before leaving you and Seokjin to yourselves. As soon as she leaves, you let out a sigh; glowering at Seokjin.

“What’s your issue?” Seokjin asks causing you to frown.

“What do you mean what’s my issue? Do you honestly think we could do this?” You ask and Seokjin’s left eyebrow rises.

“You’re the one who promised we’d get the restaurant back on its feet” Seokjin points out.

“Only because you said we’d try our hardest! We’re students, how are we supposed to stop a restaurant going bankrupt?” You snapped.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? Because this is our task. If we don’t complete it, we fail and both get expelled. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be expelled when graduation is so near” Seokjin says simply and immediately your anger deflates, knowing he was correct.

“Uh whatever, let’s just figure out the problem” You replied, taking a seat at one of the counters. Seokjin takes a seat beside you, flicking through the recipe book Mei had most likely left out for the two of you to browse through.

“Could it be the menu?” You asked curiously, peering over his shoulder to peep at the different recipes.

“No,” Seokjin says, shutting your question down immediately. You clench your fists, ire rising as you grow agitated at his short response. However, you take a deep breath, knowing that you needed to somehow work with him in order to complete the test set by your academy.

“And why is that? You grit out and Seokjin shows you Mei’s recipes. You quickly skim through them, a small frown marring your face when you reach the end.

“See? Her recipes are good. In fact, they’re great. Any of these dishes would be wonderfully flavoured. The spices are harmonious with each other and if the meat or vegetables are cooked to perfection, then she should have no issue with her actual food. It’s not the menu that’s the problem” Seokjin says matter of factly and you grimace.

“Yes, thank you, I’m not completely incompetent, I got that” You mutter under your breath even though you know he can hear you.

“Never said you were incompetent” Seokjin deadpans.

“You’ve never said I was competent either” You rebuke, Seokjin’s mouth quirks slightly before he shrugs you off. You sincerely hated how much he did that.

“If it’s not the menu, then maybe the location?” You ask and once again Seokjin shoots you down as soon as the words escape your lips.

“No. This is a prime location, she shouldn’t have problems with it, especially enough to be a completely deserted restaurant. You saw the number of people outside. The streets were busy” Seokjin recounts. You clench your fists tight, nails digging into your palms as he once again shuts you down.

“Then it has to be the competition like she said” You grit out through clenched teeth. This time Seokjin sighs, looking at you stoically.

“No. There are multiple Chinese restaurants, they’re all competing with each other. Why is it only Hunan that’s completely empty? It doesn’t make sense” Seokjin says calmly and this time, your fists bang into the table, startling him.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asks as you glower at him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You! That’s what’s wrong. You keep shutting down my suggestions. If it’s not any of that then what could be the issue? Considering you keep saying no to my suggestions, it means you have to know right? You know what’s wrong? Because you’re so much better than me. So, go on. What is it? What’s the problem Mr-I’m-Better-Than-You? Tell me so you can brag about how you figured it out before me and gloat about how much better of a chef than me you are” You finally blow up, unable to contain yourself anymore. Seokjin reels, baulking at you.

“Where is this coming from? Firstly, I’m not shutting you down, I’m just telling you that it couldn’t be the problems you raised. Was I being difficult or unreasonable? Or did I not give you valid reasons as to why the issues with the restaurant couldn’t be what you thought? Secondly, I have never once said I was better than you, nor have I ever thought it, so I have no idea where you got those ideas from” Seokjin says calmly and you let out a humourless laugh.

“Oh please. Don’t act like you haven’t. Of course, you think you’re better than me. That’s why you never compliment my dishes, that’s why we have this stupid rivalry where we continuously try to beat each other. Because you think you’re better than me. Because you think my desserts and dishes suck. Because you think your cooking is better than mine!” You exploded, pointing an accusatory finger at Seokjin.

"Is that why you think I don't compliment your dishes? Have you really deluded yourself that much that you think I don't compliment you because I'm better than you?" Seokjin questions, a mixture of disbelief and incredulity marring his face.

"Well, what else could it be? You always look disappointed every time I score higher on an exam. That's the reason for our rivalry, right? Because you're upset I beat you even though you think you're a better chef than I am?" You scoff. Seokjin shakes his head, letting out a little exasperated sigh.

"Is that the reason you're always so hostile towards me? Because you think that I think I'm better than you?" Seokjin asks, tone calm as he looks at you, completely bewildered.

"I mean... yes? Why else?" You say, now more confused than angry. Why was he just randomly bringing this up? What else could it have been? Your entire rivalry stemmed from how much he grated your nerves. From how he thought he was better than you. It's the reason you had started competing all those years ago. No one rubbed you the wrong way like Seokjin did.

"Okay. Well, let's get something straight. I don't think I'm better than you. Nor have I ever thought that. That's not the reason I'm disappointed nor is that the reason for our rivalry, at least not in my case. I don't understand how you've managed to twist this so much. Here I thought you got mad because we always drew or because we've always been around the same level and you wanted to do better than me. But clearly, that's not the case. If I had realised it earlier, I would have set you straight" Seokjin says; your brows immediately furrow, your back straightening as you regard him with scepticism.

"Well, then what's the reason?" You snap impatiently. You watch as Seokjin's shoulder slump slightly before he turns back to the menu, flicking through it idly.

"I have never once thought that you were beneath me, or that I was better than you. In fact, it's the opposite. I consider us both equals. You, as a chef, are entirely on my level. No one else could rival me the way you do, no one else could keep up with me the way you do. That's the reason I compete with you. Because you keep me on my toes. Because you make me a better chef. I like competing with you because you inspire me to do better, to make my dishes that bit more delicious, to make them a bit more appetising. No one motivates me like you do. No one makes me want to cook or be a better chef than you do" Seokjin starts and with each and every one of his words you're left astounded.

You're completely speechless, unable to reply or even say anything. Because really, what could you say to that? The entire time he speaks, he doesn't look at you but you see his ears turn from their lightly tanned shade to a bright red; a clear sign that he's embarrassed, even if it's not apparent on his face. You startle slightly, since when did you pay enough attention to Kim Seokjin to be able to read him like that?

"And the reason behind my disappointment every time you score higher has nothing to do with me thinking someone worse than me beat me. It's everything to do with how despite the fact that I consider you to be on my level, you have no faith in yourself. Have you ever realised how much you rely on others to compliment your dishes? How much you care about what the Head Chef's think? Okay sure, their words mean something as they're examining us. But it's like… if they said anything bad about your dish that you'd completely fall apart. You're entirely too reliant on what other people think of your desserts and I don’t like that. It disappoints me that my rival, someone who can keep up with me, someone I consider equal to me, cares so much about another person’s opinion. It annoys me that you don't have confidence in your own dishes" Seokjin continues; you take in a sharp breath, nervously shifting now. He turns towards you, staring at you straight and making you gulp.

There's a certain fire behind his eyes, a slight intensity that has you on edge. Because you know he's right. You never were confident in your dishes. You always focused too much on the what ifs. What if it was overly sweetened? What if you hadn't whipped the cream to perfection. What if you overworked the dough and the bread turned out to be hard and chewy rather than soft and fluffy like you wanted it? Often, you were held back by your own securities. Sometimes, you'd panic during exams and need to take a deep breath even though history has proven that you were at the top of Big Hit Academy. That is unless Seokjin was involved. The epiphany comes as a slight shock to you.

"Except for when you're in an exam with me. You're never as sure in your own dishes unless you're up against me. You're always confident and you believe that you can score a better grade than me. That makes me happy. It makes me happy that somehow you have enough confidence in yourself to trash talk and tell me that you're the better chef. But then the judging begins, and you turn back into that anxious ball of stress, so worried that you may not score high enough or that you may fail. Why is that? Why do you, the joint top chef with me, worry so much about failing? When have you ever scored a grade lower than a 90? I hate it. I hate that you rely on others opinions. Yes, as chefs we cook for other people. But what do other people's opinions matter when you're not confident in your own dessert or own dish? You need to learn to rely on yourself. You're only ever confident with me because your annoyance for me apparently outweighs your insecurities. But I want to see that in you always, in any exam. I want to see you be more confident in yourself, as a chef" Seokjin finishes and you're entirely blown away by his sudden tangent.

Your heart is palpitating in your chest as you realise that Seokjin was entirely correct. You were only ever confident with him, how had you never realised that? But more importantly, how much had Seokjin been paying attention to you to have realised that before even you had? You think back to all the times you had caught Seokjin watching you during any exams you'd both had together. Previously, you'd always believed that he was trying to unnerve you or trying to get under your skin, but now you wonder if he was simply watching you. If he was simply learning about you. You have no idea why, but the thought of it causes your heart to race even quicker, your face heating up.

"I- I didn't know that" You replied quietly, unable to look him in the eye. For three years you had hated Seokjin because you thought that he mocked you. Because you thought he thought he was better than you. You had always considered your rivalry something where you had to beat him, where you had to come up on top. Never had you thought of it like Seokjin had; as a way to make you a better chef. But now that you thought about it, it was true. Just like Seokjin, no one motivated you to do better. You always wanted to beat him and in doing so, you always wanted to experiment and strive to be a better chef. For three years you had hated Seokjin for reasons you had clearly deluded yourself into believing. But now, that wasn't the case. You had no idea what to say or how to respond.

"It's late. Why don't we call it a night?" You suddenly say, pushing your chair back as you abruptly get up. Seokjin jerks at the sound of your chair scraping against the linoleum tiled floor. He watches as you run out the kitchen, brows furrowed, wanting to call out to you. But you’re long gone.

You hurriedly walked through the restaurant, bowing to the servers and staff before quickly exiting. You take in a deep breath, Seokjin's words running through your head at a mile a minute. Your hand moves to your chest, palm flat as you try and still your racing heart. Confusion clouds your every fibre, as you ponder his words. Really what the hell was his problem? How dare he simply confuse you like that? You had spent three years hating him and now what? You knew very well that you couldn't hate him, not when he confessed that he didn't think he was better than you. Because now your hate isn’t justified and if you continued being hostile, it’d just be because you were being petty. You take another deep breath, once again trying to still your rapidly beating heart to no avail. Why did he have to mess you up and confuse you like that? And why the hell was your heart racing so much?

Damn Kim Seokjin.

He really was an ass.

The next day you walk into the restaurant, this time a lot calmer than you had been the night before when you'd all but run out on Seokjin after his confession. You hadn't even waited for him to join you, instead, racing back to the hotel as quickly as you could. You were still somewhat confused about where you now stood with Seokjin. You'd hated him for years and you knew you couldn't just continue hating him. Not when he had inadvertently made you a better chef than you thought. But you couldn't suddenly be best friends with him either, thus leaving you in a weird place where he was concerned. So, with determination coursing through your veins, you decide that you'd be civil. You enter the kitchen, noting that Seokjin is already there. Once again, he has the restaurant's recipe book out but this time, you note, he also has other pieces of scrap paper around him.

"Hey," Seokjin greets and you smile shortly, greeting him back. A large part of you feels completely awkward; this is foreign ground. You'd never been civil to Seokjin, much less had a pleasant conversation with him. But now, looking back at it, that was more your own fault than anything considering you’d usually be the first to get agitated. Of course, it didn't help that Seokjin taunted you either. But more often than not, you'd be the one who'd start the arguments.

"Hi. What's this?" You ask, pointing towards the papers littered around him.  The words are slightly stilted and your tone more than awkward but you remind yourself that you'd be polite and try and work things out with him.

"I visited a few restaurants nearby and took some notes. I think I figured out the problem" Seokjin says. You look at him with wide eyed wonder, quickly approaching him. You skim through the pieces of paper around him, realising they have restaurant names and then a few dishes under the name. With a frown, you realise that on each piece of paper there's one dish name circled.

"What's the issue?" You ask, taking a seat next to him.

"Signature dishes. Each and every restaurant around here has a signature dish that their restaurant specialises in. Hunan doesn't have that. I think that's the issue. A lot of the dishes between each restaurant are the same as Hunan's. But the others have a speciality that draws their customers in" Seokjin explains and your eyes bug out of your skull.

“That makes sense! That’s probably why other people are drawn to the other restaurants. If most of the menu is the same, there’s no reason to go to one over the other. But having a signature dish gives a restaurant a certain edge because no one can replicate that specific dish” You quickly respond, catching onto Seokjin’s explanation.

“Exactly and therefore since Hunan doesn’t have one, there’s no reason to come here. Especially when they could get any dishes on this menu at the other restaurants” Seokjin finishes.

“Wow, okay so we should create a signature dish for Hunan? What do you think we should do?” You ask and Seokjin lets out a small sigh, looking up at the ceiling as he ponders the thought.

“Well it needs to be something we can both contribute to, so desserts are out. We probably need something that includes both dough and something with meat. But nothing comes to mind right now and we also need to be sure other restaurants don’t have the same dish. I think we need to go around. I only managed to look at a couple restaurants before I had to be here. Do you want to go check the others out with me?” Seokjin asks, turning his gaze towards you.

“That sounds like a plan. Are we gonna sit in and try dishes or?” You question and Seokjin stares at you blankly.

“Why?”

“Well, it gives us time to look at the menu in more detail but also to check out their specialities, right? It’ll give us ideas for Hunan’s speciality if we try their food too” You explain, Seokjin nodding enthusiastically.

“That sounds like a really good idea. Come on, let’s go” Seokjin says, immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen.

A few hours later, you find yourself treading besides Seokjin. The two of you had been to various restaurants around Hunan, and it was safe to say that you were more than full. In fact, you were sure the two of you had overeaten and you could feel your body becoming lethargic, needing a post food nap. You let out a slight yawn causing the man walking beside you to giggle. You felt yourself grow slightly agitated, elbowing him for mocking you. Although, even you could tell it had lost its usual angry lustre, now being more playful than anything.

“Sorry, you just look so cute yawning,” Seokjin says from beside you. His words are entirely nonchalant and he says them as if it’s no big deal but your entire body freezes and you instantaneously stop, gaping at his back as he continues walking. He gets a few steps ahead of you before realising you were no longer beside him. Seokjin turns around, raising his brow at you; silently questioning why you were no longer walking.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and you immediately close your jaw, shaking your head furiously as you stalk towards him. Your face is heated from his casual compliment and internally you curse him for his confusing words. You were rivals, why the hell was he calling you cute all of a sudden?

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing” You answer quickly, indignation lacing your tone. Seokjin stares at you in confusion before shrugging it off, chalking it up to one of your usual moods around him. You quickly catch up to him, but your pace is brisk and Seokjin is left reeling from your sudden mood change. He quickly thinks back to what he could have done to cause you to behave the way you are when it suddenly dawns on him. His entire face lights up, an impish smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Are you embarrassed because I called you cute?” He asks slyly and your blood freezes before you shake your head furiously.

“No! Of course not! Why would I care what you think? Me? Embarrassed? Ha! Absolutely not. I’m not embarrassed that you called me c-c-cute. No, absolutely not!” You rapidly blurt out, flailing your arms around you. Seokjin watches you with poorly masked amusement and as soon as you stutter out your final words, you quickly catch yourself.

“Right, of course, you’re not,” Seokjin says, a knowing smile on his face. You let out a small scowl before clearing your throat.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Come on, let’s get back so we can brainstorm new ideas for Hunan’s speciality” You say quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear before once again stalking off.

“Cute” Seokjin chuckles, watching your retreating figure before jogging to catch up with you.

Another few hours later, the two of you find yourself in your hotel room. Seokjin is sat on the floor, leaning against your bed with a cushion in his lap while you lie on the bed beside him. You’ve both got various recipe cards, scrap paper with a mix of yours and Seokjin’s notes scrawled on them and various snack wrappers littered around you. Both your hair is messy from running your hands through it as you brainstormed different ideas but nothing was clicking so far.

“How about a signature hotpot?” Seokjin suggests and you shake your head once again, pointing towards a scrap piece of paper.

“There’s literally an entire restaurant dedicated to hotpot,” You remarked, Seokjin groaning.

“That was such a good idea. Everyone loves hotpot” He comments and you snort.

“Agreed, hotpots are amazing. But how was it a good idea? What would I have contributed?” You question and Seokjin shrugs.

“I don’t know, the noodles?” He jokes and you playfully smack the back of his head.

“You know I’m not a noodle expert. They don’t count as part of my discipline” You point out, causing him to sigh. He throws his head back, neck rested on your bed as he stares at the ceiling.

“Are we ever going to find something? The more I think about it, the more I think that our disciplines are complete opposites. Is there something that we could both create together?” Seokjin mumbles, more to himself than anything. You share in his slightly dejected thoughts. The number of Chinese restaurants around meant that there were very few things that weren’t already specialities and then if you added that you both needed to contribute, it was even slimmer to find a perfect dish. You quickly glanced over to the clock on your bedside table, before exhaling deeply.

“I think it’s time to call it a night. we’re both exhausted and we’ve been at this for hours. It may help to get a good night’s sleep and looking at this with fresh eyes in the morning” You say, Seokjin nodding as he yawns loudly. You watch his lips in a slight trance, the way they stretch out before returning to their usual plush and puffy state. Briefly, you wonder if they feel as soft as they look before shaking your head. You look away, gaping at the wall. Just how tired were you that your thoughts were straying to completely unnecessary and uncharted territory?

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll see you tomorrow then” Seokjin says, grabbing the snack wrappers before standing to his full height. Your neck strains to look up at him from your position and you’re taken aback from how tall he really is. You’d never really noticed it, usually too busy scowling at him as you thought up ways you could beat him in your exams. But now that the two of you were alone, and on more civilized terms, you were truly able to take in his figure.

He was tall; so tall that he stood an entire head over you. And ridiculously broad; was it even possible to have such broad shoulders naturally? Especially with how narrow his waist and hips were, leading to long legs and thick thighs. With a startling realisation, you realise that Seokjin is handsome and far more beautiful than you had ever pegged him for. It should have been illegal or at least completely impossible to have been built like that with a face like that. It was unfair; how was anyone supposed to compete? You’d always thought he was stupidly attractive but this level of handsome was completely unnecessary.

“____? You okay?” Seokjin calls out and you abruptly jerk back, realising how close he was. His face is almost touching yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips as he stares curiously at you. All of a sudden, you let out a little squeal, pushing him away as you roll, trying to put more distance between him and you.

“Woah, you okay?” Seokjin asks and you nod rapidly, trying to stay as calm as possible despite your previously traitorous thoughts and rapidly pumping heartbeat.

“Perfectly fine!” You call out, quickly getting off the bed before placing your palms on his chest in an effort to push him out of your room. The minute your palms touch his chest however, you’re quickly wondering just what he looks like underneath his shirt because his chest feels hard and perfectly chiselled.

“____?” Seokjin asks curiously, and once again you realise that your mind was wandering to places you definitely did not want it to be.

“GOODNIGHT! BYE” You all but scream, pushing him towards the door before practically throwing him out, slamming the door in his face. As soon as he’s out, you scrunch your flushed face, leaning your head against the cool door.

“What is wrong with you? Get a grip of yourself! He’s your rival! Whether you’re on better terms not or not! You still have to beat him” You chastise yourself, reigning in your mind as you refuse to let your treacherous mind wander into that territory once again. You quickly slap your face with both hands before rushing into the bathroom to get changed. This was, undoubtedly, going to be a long week.

Two days later and you and Seokjin still haven’t come up with a solution to your task, no matter how much you’d brainstormed. You walk into the restaurant dejectedly on the fourth day. You had four days left until your challenge ended, which included today. How you were going to pass, you had no idea. You press open the steel door of the kitchen; however, instead of seeing Seokjin hunched over the counter with various pieces of paper like you were used to, you see him grinning with a wide array of ingredients around him. Your face crunches as you approach him curiously.

“What’s going on?” You ask as Seokjin throws you a chef jacket.

“BAO!” Seokjin all but yells in triumphant and you lurch slightly, astounded by his sudden outburst.

“What?” You question, puzzlement lacing your tone.

“Bao! I don’t know how we didn’t think of it before! But Hunan’s speciality should be Bao!” Seokjin explains and your eyes widen, shining with hope as you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Oh my god! That’s perfect!” You cry, abruptly and inadvertently throwing your hands around him in joy. Seokjin’s arms instinctively wrap around you and soon you’re both stiffening, unsure how to respond to the unfamiliar situation. You stare up at him, his dark gaze on you. It takes you a couple moments for you brain to kick back into gear; realising exactly what you’d done, you quickly let him go before clearing your throat, trying to stifle your blush.

“Right. Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking” You quickly apologise; Seokjin simply laughs it off, hand rubbing the back of his head as he tries to play it cool, despite his red-hot ears.

“That’s fine, you were excited, it’s completely understandable,” Seokjin says, brushing it off. The two of you stand still, unsure of how to continue as an awkward tension washes over the two of you.

“So… how did you come up with bao?” You ask, trying to move on from the painful silence.

“Oh! I visited a small convenience store and they were selling frozen bao and it got me thinking. There is not a single bao restaurant in the vicinity and none of the restaurants have them on their menu. I think that’s why we completely forgot about them. But, it has both our disciplines. I can make the meat filling and you can make the bao dough yes?” Seokjin asks with a grin, beaming with pride.

“That’s…” You start with a smile before it slowly falls off your face. You want to congratulate him and tell him he’s done well, but you’re unsure how to. This was completely new territory for the both of you. You glance at Seokjin, realising he’s waiting for you to continue. You take in a deep breath, gathering all your strength and courage before stomping down your own screaming pride. Plastering a genuine smile on your face, you beam at him.

“That’s amazing Seokjin. Thanks…. I was starting to lose hope in completing this challenge” You mumble earnestly, rubbing your arm shyly. Seokjin’s eyes soften at how small you look before placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey! We’re two of the best students at the Academy. There was no way we’d fail this, right?” Seokjin says in an effort to cheer you up. You nod, the entire situation slightly jarring because here was Kim Seokjin, you sworn rival, comforting you. You shake off your thoughts, instead, taking off your outer jacket and slipping on the chef jacket as you get ready to work. You quickly tie your hair up and wash your hands, turning to him in determination.

“Alright! Let’s do this. You get started on the meat filling and I’ll start the dough” You immediately delegate. Seokjin raises his eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanour before he lets out a lopsided smile. With a mock salute, he turns and begins pulling out various meats from the fridge, getting to work.

Half an hour later, you spot Seokjin placing his pork into the oven. You turn back to your dough, kneading it as hard as you can as you try to get it to the correct consistency. Seokjin quickly clears up before walking up to you, watching you curiously. He takes a look at the large bowl, letting out a whistle at the amount of dough you have inside.

“That’s a lot of dough” Seokjin comments and you roll your eyes at the obvious statement.

“Yes, well done Sherlock. I figured we’d need more than one portion considering we need the staff to try it. Also, I assume you have more than one type of filling” You reply but Seokjin simply shakes his head, rolling his sleeves up.

“No, I thought we’d keep it simple and go with a classic. Char Siu Bao, a fan favourite and guaranteed to draw customers in” Seokjin states, sending you a thumbs up, as if he’d just advertised the best dish. You deflate slightly.

“It’s a good plan but this just means I’ve made too much dough” You almost whine, your arms already tired from all the kneading. Seokjin simply pats your head, drawing closer towards you.

“Here, let me help,” He says before placing his hand into the bowl with you. Your startle slightly, gawking up at him in astonishment. He ignores you, instead, focusing on kneading the dough in the bowl with you.

“I know I’m handsome but are you just going to stare or are you going to help? Your hand’s kind of in the way” Seokjin grins playfully and you feel the vein in your forehead throb as you tut at him.

“With the amount you call yourself handsome, some would think you were in love with yourself,” You remark, Seokjin chuckling at you.

“Is there something wrong with loving yourself?” He asks.

“I said in love with yourself, not loving yourself. There’s a difference” You reply, causing Seokjin to shrug.

“In love, loving yourself. It’s all the same when you have a face like a flower” Seokjin says, flicking his hair out of his forehead before fluttering his eyelashes at you. You burst into laughter at his ridiculousness, giggling as he grins at you.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day you actually laughed at something I said. Usually, you’d just insult me and walk away. Does this mean you no longer hate me?” Seokjin questions out of curiosity and you immediately sober up from your giggling fit. Having Seokjin point it out feels weird, but the more you think about it, the more you realise he was right. This was weird. You were having a pleasant conversation with your rival and hadn’t felt the surge of hatred you usually felt when interacting with him.

“Hm. I guess I don’t. It’s easier to not hate you when I know you don’t think I’m beneath you. Besides, if I continued hating you now, it would only be out of pettiness” You explain, Seokjin grinning at your words.

“Aha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms for too long” Seokjin teases, eyebrows rising suggestively, and you roll your eyes at his antics, refusing to even dignify him with a response.

“Yes, that’s what happened. Let’s just go back to kneading the dough. We still have the challenge to pass” You say, ending the conversation. Seokjin nods, saluting once again causing you to roll your eyes again.

You focus on kneading the dough once again; it’s almost to the consistency it needs to be; but with the amount of dough in the bowl, you know it’s going to take slightly longer than planned. Suddenly, you feel Seokjin’s hands bump against you, your fingers brushing against each other’s as he gently but firmly kneads the dough. Involuntarily, you watch the way his long but slightly crooked fingers work the dough, heel of his palm pressing into the bao mix... You’re almost mesmerised by the movements; you had never truly taken time to watch Seokjin work but right now, as he was gently working the dough, you realise that he, like you, truly loved cooking. You could feel the amount he cared for his craft through the gentleness of his touch, slowly but surely kneading the dough into submission. You watch the way his heel compresses into the soft mixture, dough pooling on either end of his palm.

“It looks about done, right? What do you think oh great Dough Master?” Seokjin jokes, looking at you for advice on whether to keep going or to stop. You glance up, and you faintly acknowledge that he’s said something. In fact, his lips are moving but you can no longer focus on his words, nor can you comprehend them. Instead, you’re completely lost in the way his lips move. They look incredibly pillowy and pink, a slight sheen on his upper lip from the heat of the kitchen. You wonder what they’d feel like against your own lips.

“____?” Seokjin finally says, waving dough covered hands in front of your face. You blink owlishly, your eyes coming back into focus as you’re brought out of your thoughts. You stare up at him questioningly, hoping he’ll repeat himself.

“What?” You say, but Seokjin can tell that you’re slightly dazed. He stares at you, puzzlement etched into his face before pointing at the dough.

“Do you think this is okay? It looks pretty much done” He repeats and you turn back to the dough, blinking owlishly. Your brain slowly kicks back into gear and your face heats as you nod furiously.

“Oh! Um yes! This is perfect! It just needs to rest for two hours now” You say, hastily letting go of the dough, almost as if it had burned you. Briskly walking to the sink, you wash your hands, silently berating yourself for once again getting distracted by Kim Seokjin.

The next few hours move quickly, you and Seokjin throwing yourselves into creating the char Siu bao to the best of both your abilities, presenting the dish to Mei and the rest of her staff. Thankfully, everyone loves the idea of a speciality dish and you and Seokjin grin at each other, happy that you had some sort of plan to tackle Hunan’s lack of customer base.

The following days passed in a blur. Day five sees both you and Seokjin teaching Mei how to create Hunan’s signature bao. Seokjin and Mei work on the meat filling together, Mei chiming in with her own two cents every now and then on what ingredients would make the dish more authentic and which spices would complement each other better, bringing out the flavours of the pork even more. When she’s done with Seokjin, she works with you learning your dough recipe and some techniques you’d picked up during your three years on how to create the perfect dough texture every single time.

Days six and seven you have no time to speak to Seokjin; you both take turns, one trying to promote the new bao on the street, drawing in customers while the other helps in the kitchen. By the end of both days, you’re both completely exhausted and as soon as you get to your hotel rooms, you crash. Luckily, by the end of the week, you’re back in the academy in your own studio apartment, ready to sleep for an entire week after having accomplished your challenge. You were completely exhausted, from your exams, which you had not managed to recover from and from the consecutive week-long excursion to Hunan, in order to gain some restaurant experience.

“Hey ____, your burner is too high. We’re supposed to slow cook the meat,” Seokjin says from a counter diagonally to yours. You hear everyone take in a deep breath, the head chef at the front of the classroom suddenly sitting straight. You know exactly why the class responded the way they did; they were most likely expecting you to blow up and yell at Seokjin to mind his own business, the head chef even getting ready to break up the impending fight.

“Oh? You’re right. Thanks, Jin,” you simply say, turning your burner down before turning back to your task of chopping up the vegetables. Everyone stares in disbelief at your casual acceptance of Seokjin’s advice. The head chef is completely still, mouth dropped at the unexpected occurrence. In all three years of teaching both you and Seokjin, you had never once been civil. The class slowly came to life, some students eagerly whispering to one another, undoubtedly gossiping while others just stared nervously at both you and Seokjin, wondering what the hell had happened.

The rest of the class follows without a hitch, and as usual, you and Seokjin scored the top marks in the class, although Seokjin scores slightly higher than you. Surprisingly, you’re not filled with a burning all-consuming rage to beat him. It had been a month since your trip to Hunan and unsurprisingly you and Seokjin were on much friendlier terms; although no one was as happy as your little friendship group, who were just glad that you could all hang out without you and Seokjin being at each other’s throats. Or, well, more you being at Seokjin’s throat. Sure, the two of you still argued and still had your little competition to see who was the better chef, but everyone could tell that there was no real heat behind the little spats anymore. Now, whenever Seokjin teased or taunted you, you were filled with annoyance and exasperation more than hate.

Seokjin catches your eye as he’s leaving the room; he pauses briefly before grinning, winking and then waving as he leaves. You awkwardly wave back at him before you continue gathering your things. Everyone else, however, just stands in complete astonishment as they watch the little interaction between the two of you. You slowly wander down the long corridor, face slightly scrunched as people stare at you, whispering between themselves. You strain your ears slightly, trying to listen to the hushed conversations.

“Do you think they’re together?”

“Oh my god, Seokjin totally winked at her and she didn’t even yell at him! She just smiled and waved back!”

“Have you noticed that they actually… like, get along now?”

“Yes! They don’t fight anymore, it’s so weird. I never thought I’d see the day”

“It’s really kind of weird… like it’s just weird to see them getting along”

“Really? I always thought they’d end up together”

“WHAT?”

“What? You can’t hate someone that much without wanting to fuck. They always say there’s a thin line between love and hate”

“You’re right! And oh my god, weren’t they paired up for the restaurant challenge? And they stayed in a hotel away from campus!”

“Oh yeah they totally hate fucked and now are in love with each other”

“Ugh, she’s so lucky!”

“Wah! I could totally see that! Even when they argue now it’s like flirting more than an actual argument”

“Agreed! They’re totally secretly dating.”

Throughout your entire eavesdropping session, your face slowly grows warmer and warmer until your ears are hot red. For most of it, you can ignore them. They’re just baseless rumours running through students who had nothing better to do with their time. However, the last few have you suddenly stopping and instantly turning on your heel, stalking towards the two girls who had now moved on from speculating that you and Seokjin were both secret lovers to when it began. They watch you approach them, immediately shutting up as their eyes widen in slight fear, exchanging a nervous glance between each other.

“No! That would never happen! How could you even think of such a thing? M-M-Me and him? Not in this world! Not in any alternate world either! So, what if we get along now? Nothing wrong with it… right? RIGHT! Yes, we just get along. But that would never happen. No, no it wouldn’t! It couldn’t! He likes cooking meat and I like cooking sweet things! See, complete opposites. It would never happen!” You burst, arms flailing around before stomping your foot down. You cross your arms and nod as if you’d made the world’s most flawless argument.

Everyone stares in confusion, murmurs of ‘what is she talking about’ and ‘did you even understand her’ roaming around the corridor. You grow slightly sheepish as even more eyes stare at you. You quickly pull your bag closer to you before briskly walking - really you were practically running - down the corridor. The students all stared at your back, wondering if your rivalry with Seokjin had finally caused you to lose the plot and go insane.

“That was weird right?”

“Do you think she was listening to us?”

“I mean, even if she was… I still have no idea what she was talking about.

“Bro… she didn’t even make any sense”

“God, I can’t believe they thought Seokjin and I would be secretly dating… it’s completely insane! We’re rivals… nothing more! Although we are becoming friends I guess,” You begrudgingly admit to yourself as you slowly open your apartment door. You place your bag down by the door before taking your shoes off and slipping into your house slippers.

“There’s no way. I don’t even like him like that… right?” You speak out loud, more to yourself than anything. But even you have to admit that it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than anything. Admittedly, you’re still somewhat confused by your entire relationship - or lack thereof - with Seokjin. It was strange to go from hating him to suddenly being somewhat friendly with him. Although, you have to admit that you had always been moderately confused by Seokjin. Even when you had hated him, you had somewhat admired him reluctantly. A small part of you even acknowledges that the admiration was most likely why you needed him to admit you were a good enough chef. Granted, he now had admitted he thought you were a good chef, hell he’d even said he considered you on his level. Perhaps that was why you were suddenly flustered by him.

Yes. Of course! That had to be it!

Hours later, you were still plagued by thoughts of Seokjin. You lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling through twitter, barely reading the tweets. Your eyes flicked to the top of your phone, groaning when you realised it was nearing two am. You jostled in bed, turning onto your side as you continued scrolling aimlessly, mind still preoccupied on Seokjin. Ten minutes later however you stumbled on a video of two teens snorting crushed ramen. You shook your head, wondering just where people got the idea for this stuff. However, at that very minute, your stomach began growling and suddenly you were craving something sweet.

You pulled yourself out of bed, trudging through your bedroom and into the kitchen. You quickly opened the cabinets, realising you had absolutely no snacks before checking your fridge, hopeful that maybe you had something left over from one of your earlier experiments. However, you had no such luck. Your stomach growled again and you shut your fridge with a groan. You swiftly threw on your jacket, slipping into your trainers before grabbing your keys and wallet, heading out to the twenty-four-hour convenience store next to campus.

The spring night air is crisp and the cool breeze chills your bones slightly, causing you to pull your jacket closer to your body. You wander through the well-lit streets, thoughts once again wandering to Seokjin and your bizarre friendship with him. No matter how much you think about it, you simply can’t comprehend him nor the sudden confusion that clouds your mind whenever it comes to him. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to figure it out. It had been hours and you couldn’t come to a single, plausible solution that made sense to you.

Soon you arrive at the convenience store, however, just as you’re about to go in, someone steps out. And of course, that person is none other than the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for most of the day. You blink owlishly, staring at the tall man in front of you. He’s dressed in a loose white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, a long blank jacket draped over him. Your gaze briefly snaps to the plastic bag he’s holding, your face scrunching up before you burst into laughter at the contents of his bag.

“Yah! What the hell are you laughing at?” Seokjin says in indignation, in the same loud voice he usually speaks in whenever Jungkook insults him.

“Why do you have instant ramen?! Oh my god, this is priceless” You cackle, eyes practically tearing up and doubling over as you point at his bag. Seokjin’s ears immediately turn red and he swiftly hides the bag behind him, tutting at you.

“What’s wrong with instant ramen? I’m allowed to buy it!” Seokjin grumbles but his words only cause you to laugh harder.

“Because you’re a top-rated chef, that’s why! Oh my god, I cannot believe you’re buying instant ramen at 2am…” You gasp out, trying to catch your breath from your sudden fit of laughter. Seokjin glowers at you, grumbling to himself before shoving his hands in his pocket, the plastic bag hanging from his wrist.

“Shut up… I was hungry and I didn’t have anything that I could make quickly” Seokjin reasons, but you only grinned brightly at him, as if you had been handed the best prize in the world.

“There, there. I’m only joking” You say and Seokjin nods curtly, his ears still red.

“So why are you here?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I was craving something sweet cause I was hungry… but I think I could do with some ramen too. Come on, let me go buy a packet and I’ll make it for you” You say, grabbing his jacket sleeve without thinking before dragging him back into the store. Seokjin allows you to pull him toward the ramen isle and you soon pick your favourite ramen off the shelf as well as some eggs before paying for it. You and Seokjin walk outside toward the little ramen area.

“Why are you making it for me?” Seokjin asks curiously as he hands you his ramen packet, watching the way you open it, placing the noodles in the tin foil before adding the sachet and hot water.

“Jungkook specialises in ramen remember? His guilty pleasure is instant ramen. But you can’t tell anyone that! He’ll lose his credibility as a ramen master! Anyway, he’s taught me a thing or two about perfecting instant ramen” You explain Seokjin laughing mischievously.

“Oh, that’s some good blackmail material for when he calls me old” Seokjin says and you turn to him, eyes wide before shaking your head furiously.

“No! Absolutely not! I’m the only one who knows, so if you bring it up he’ll definitely know it was me that told you,” You quickly retaliate, your eyes wild at the thought of what Jungkook would do if his little secret got out.

“It’s really not that bad-” Seokjin starts, but you cut him off.

“No! Promise me you won’t say anything!” You quickly shout and Seokjin immediately nods, deflating slightly.

“God! Fine! I won’t say anything. I promise” Seokjin calls out and you smile, nodding before turning to the ramen.

“Oh, nice! It's done! Come eat” You call, grabbing the two tinfoil containers before sitting on one of the wooden benches. Seokjin sits opposite you; you offer him the disposable wooden chopsticks but he shakes his head, pulling out his own from his jacket.

“Why the hell do you just carry chopsticks in your jacket?” You ask, blowing on your ramen before slurping on them.

“You never know when you need them! Like now, see. Now I’m not wasting disposable chopsticks like some people,” He says pointedly causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay yeah, whatever just eat your damn ramen" You retort, Seokjin laughing before picking some noodles between his chopstick, blowing and placing them in his mouth.

“How is it?” You asked curiously.

“Hmm. It’s good” Seokjin replies as he slurps some more. You grin, tucking into your own container. The two of you sit in silence for a couple moments, unsure of what to say. You haven't really been alone with him since a month ago when you'd both been paired up for the restaurant challenge.

"So," You say, uncomfortable with the tense silence between the two of you. You had foolishly offered to cook him ramen in a spur of the moment decision but you had completely forgotten that you'd have to sit and eat with him. Of course, you had sat and eaten with him when you’d visited all those restaurants at Hunan, but at least then you could talk about the menu and food. What were you supposed to do now? Talk about the history of ramen?

"Why did you become a chef?" Seokjin asked, breaking the silence. He looks at you curiously, slurping some more ramen into his mouth.

"That's... kind of a personal question don't you think?" You answer back, Seokjin snorting slightly before pointing his chopsticks towards you.

"I thought we were friends" comes Seokjin's direct reply.

"I mean... I wouldn't go that far but okay" You respond, looking away, his words startling you. Were you friends? Sure, you weren't exactly enemies anymore, but wasn't friends pushing it? If it were up to you, you'd call it casual acquaintances or something similar.

"Go on then, why did you become a chef?" Seokjin repeats. You let out a little sigh before placing your chopsticks down. You glance up at the sky, the city lights drown out most of the sky, but there are still a few stars that lit up the night sky.

"My parents used to run a small cake shop in our town, so I basically just grew up baking and making desserts. I learnt a lot from mom and grandpa and eventually just got better than them. I think the first time I baked one of grandpa's recipes was around the age of five. Mom helped obviously, but grandpa loved it so much. He'd started baking for grandma and he loved that I picked up the skill and well, that's why I started baking" You say, a small wistful smile on your face as you remember your grandfather's smile when you'd presented the cake to him.

"That doesn't explain why you became a chef though. A pâtissier yeah, but not why you joined Big Hit. You don’t have to have studied professionally to run a family-run cake shop" Seokjin points out and you turn back to him, cocking your head to the side.

"That was because by the time it got to applying for universities, mom and grandpa knew there was nothing more they could teach me. They both had been saving up to send me here because they thought my talents were wasted in their little bakery and well, after all the years of saving, I didn't have the heart to tell them no and so here I am, three years later. It was probably the best decision of my life" You say, a wistful smile on your face as you remembered their kindness.

"So, you decided on a whim then?" He clarifies and you shrug.

"I guess so. I never really thought about anything other than baking in grandpa's bakery but they both knew there were bigger things out there than a small cake shop in Busan" You say Seokjin nodding.

"That's fair enough, I just thought that maybe it would have been a big dream of yours of something. I always wondered why you were so hell-bent on always being the top," Seokjin comments offhandedly and you sneer slightly at him.

"Grandpa and mom spent a lot of time and money on my tuition here. I can't exactly disappoint them by failing, now can I... especially now after I've come so far" You point out, Seokjin nodding in accord.

"Still doesn't explain why you wanted to beat me so bad. You didn't have to fail but that didn't mean you had to try so hard to be first either" Seokjin points out, causing you to scowl at him again before your face turns passive once again.

"No, you’re right. A lot of that was to do with how much you annoyed me," You deadpan, Seokjin snickering, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay, enough about me. Why did you become a chef?" You ask, curious to find out Seokjin's reasons for becoming a chef.

"It's not as meaningful as yours. I did it more as an act of defiance than anything" Seokjin replies, both of you long since finished with your ramen. You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for him to delve deeper into his explanation.

"Well my dad wanted to go into the family business, but I really didn't want to. This was... let's say a compromise" Seokjin responds.

"Okay yes, because that isn't cryptic or anything... come on! I told you my reasons" You whine slightly, and Seokjin chuckles.

"Stop pouting, I can't say no to you when you do that," Seokjin says all of a sudden and you immediately jerk, face flushing as you process his words.

"W-What? Don't just say things like that!" You scream, pointing at him accusingly. Really, what was his problem? What was he so flirty for?

"But if I didn't then I wouldn't be being true to myself. But anyway, if you really want to know... my dad's a CEO, he owns a chain of restaurants and wanted me to take over even though I didn't want to. I wanted to be an actor but he said no to that. My other hobby was cooking considering I’d been in professional kitchens since I could walk, so I said I'd take over if he let me attend Big Hit Academy. He agreed" Seokjin elaborates but you simply scrunch your eyebrows.

"Where's the compromise in that? Doesn’t he get what he wants in the end anyway?" You refuted but Seokjin just sends you a sly glance before leaning in.

"See, what he doesn't know is that I'll only be taking over one restaurant, which I won't manage but be the head chef of" Seokjin loudly whispers, his tone conspiratorial.

"Won't that piss him off? But also, who will run the restaurants then?" You ask, curious about Seokjin's future plan. Seokjin's face contorts with pride as he grins at you.

"It won't matter because I'll be in charge anyway so he won't have a say in it. But also, I'll just hire a professional CEO or something, someone who could actually manage the restaurants. To be honest, as graduation is nearing, I was wondering if I could just hire Namjoonie to do it. No one is as good a manager as him, plus it's all boring like numbers and graphs and he likes that stuff, right?" Seokjin asks, staring at you earnestly. You giggle slightly, imagining Namjoon's face if Seokjin offered him the job before nodding enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I think he'd really love that to be honest," You replied, smiling softly at Seokjin, causing him to respond with his own smile, the wells in his cheeks at the corner of his lips deepening. It's adorable and only further draws attention to his already perfect lips. How had you not noticed them before?

"Damn, it's almost three am. Do you want to head back? I'll walk you home" Seokjin offers as he gathers up your empty foil containers, plopping them in the bin before wiping down his chopsticks, placing them back in his pocket.

"Oh, you really don't have to! It's not a long walk from here anyway" You quickly say, trying to refuse his offer. Seokjin simply sends you a look that has you sighing, immediately knowing that there was no way he'd be letting you off that easily.

"Come on, I can’t let you walk alone at this time of the night," Seokjin says and you quickly follow him, leading the way.

The two of you spend the short walk speaking more about your life out of the academy. You tell Seokjin about running the little cake shop with your mother and grandfather, your father spending most of his time in the city with his office job. You don't even stop and think about opening up to him as it all comes naturally to you. You'd never really noticed how easy it was to talk to Seokjin, not that you'd really had any reason to beforehand considering your - now that you thought about it - petty rivalry. You tell him about how you'd bake a special cake for the bakery once a week that would have people bustling in for your desserts. You even tell him about how you and your grandfather bake a special cake for your mother on her birthday. In turn, Seokjin tells you more about his home life. His father, as loving and doting as he was, would usually be too busy running the business, leaving his mother to look after both his brother and himself.

"If I was being completely honest... the reason I started cooking wasn’t that I grew up around kitchens. Sure, it interested me… seeing how basic ingredients turn into something else. But, I started because my mother is an awful cook and my brother is no better. I got tired of eating inedible food and took over the cooking in the house. And well, it turned out that I was really good at it. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop and just take over the family business like dad wants but then I remember my mother's smile every time I would cook her something, and I remember why I started and how much I love it, and it just motivates me to keep going" Seokjin says, a wistful look on his face as the two of you near your apartment complex. Your head snaps to him in slight awe of his sudden confession.

"Wow... I had no idea you thought about quitting or giving up" You mutter, Seokjin looking down at you with a rueful smile.

"Does it not get too much for you sometimes? The pressure...? Everyone expects you to always be at the top or for you to come up with amazing dishes time after time. Sometimes I forget how much I love cooking and the pressure just builds up but I just remember mom and her smile and everything gets better" Seokjin states, his tone light again, a genuine smile returning to his face. Your fingers twitch slightly, wanting to reach out and grasp his hand to offer him some semblance of comfort. But you can't do that. You may be somewhat friends, but your relationship was nowhere near that level of intimacy. So, you settle for the next best thing.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm glad you didn't quit. I'd miss our rivalry... and you do make me a better chef" You admit grudgingly, Seokjin raises an eyebrow at your statement, an amused smirk on his face. You immediately flush, "B-Besides, winning by default isn't really winning" You stammer, trying to explain yourself but you and Seokjin both know you're lying.

"I'm glad I stayed. You make me a better chef too" Seokjin says with a wink. Your face heats further and you try to respond, but instead, you simply stutter, unable to think of a response.

"Oh look! We're here! Wow, it's really late. I'll see you at the academy!" You suddenly blurt, your words rushed as you try and get away from him. Seokjin instantly reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you back.

"Hey! We've got a break now, I won't see you for a week or something. Besides, that's not a proper goodbye" Seokjin points out and you scowl despite the prominent blush on your face.

"What do you... mean?" You start before trailing off, watching as Seokjin bends over to the rose bushes planted at the bottom of your complex. He plucks one off of the bush, it's not fully bloomed yet, only a few petals unfurling from the bud, before handing it to you.

"Goodnight ____," Seokjin says with an over-exaggerated bow. You roll your eyes at his antics before accepting the flower, breathing in the subtle scent of the rose. Seokjin stands straight again and then winks at you before turning around and walking away. You roll your eyes at him again before you too turn around and enter your building.

A couple moments later and you're back in your small studio apartment. You wander to the kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet before filling it with water. Carrying the vase, you place it in the living room on your coffee table before placing the rose in it. The vase is slightly too big for the single flower, but it still looks pretty nonetheless. You glance at the rose one last time before returning to bed, a small smile on your face.

a/n: uwu what did you think?? please let me know!!

▷ Part II | Masterlist

[angelbabylu]

Only For The Night // CH

pairing: oc x calum 

word count: 8k 

warnings: smut, angst, fluff and brief mentions of sexual abuse 

notes: dad!sos baby!!!! okay, well more like dad!sos origins. I’ve been writing this fic for like a month now and truthfully, i ended up scrapping the first couple of versions. BUT i really like how the final version came out. special thanks to @5sosnsfw​ and @aspiringwildfire​ for reading and editing this fic. i love you both so much!! more notes at the end!

title: from LOVE. FEAT. ZACARI by Kendrick Lamar. 

--

September 2015

“Did you bring me all the way to your fancy house to show off how rich and famous you are?”

The girl perched atop Calum’s marble counters had an unmistakably flirtatious glint in her eyes. With the smallest of movements, she curled the corner of her mouth up into a insinuating smirk. Not for the first time that night, Calum was floored by the unconventional beauty in front of him. There was something in those deep brown eyes, in the soft plush of her lips, the light rosy tint of her cheeks, that pulled Calum in.

This was the very same allure that had caused Calum to respond to her earlier announcement of “I’m craving ice cream now” with “I have some at my house.”

Just half an hour before they had been sipping beers on a sofa in Michael’s girlfriend’s living room. Crystal had decided to throw a party for some superfluous reason or another - one that Calum was sure she had explained to him, but that had slipped his mind as soon as he had heard it. Sometimes, it felt like Crystal threw a party every week and while Calum preferred the comfort of his bed and a Netflix series he had seen a thousand times, Michael just started dating her and part of his new boyfriend routine included forcing his friends to attend every event she hosted.

When he had arrived at her house, his plan had been to sit in a corner and get drunk enough to forget his social inhibitions and maybe eventually mingle with some of her friends. His social crutches Ashton and Luke were both MIA that night. Ashton and Bryana’s relationship was on the rocks, and they were spending some time alone trying to mend it. And Luke — well, as usual he and Arzaylea were at some high end music event smooth talking execs.

When Michael had handed Calum a beer at the door, Calum had known that would be their only interaction for the night. Michael was so obsessed with being the perfect boyfriend to Crystal, he would follow her around like a lost dog. Unfortunately for Calum, perfect boyfriends didn’t hide away in corners getting drunk with their best friends.

So, as planned, Calum had taken a couple shots of tequila, then found his corner, nursing a beer in one hand and scrolling through social media on his phone in the other, waiting for his buzz to kick in.

Beth was not planned.

A few minutes into his pre-drunk brood, she had ungraciously plopped herself next to him and asked, “What’s a tree’s favorite drink?”

His first thought was that he was somehow already drunk and had misheard her. “What?”

The flirtatious glint he would grow familiar with shined in her eyes for the first time that night. She had a bright red popsicle in one hand and fidgeted with a phone in the other. The red of the popsicle had bled unto her tongue and lips, drawing Calum’s eyes to her cupid’s bow as she repeated once more, “What’s a tree’s favorite drink?”

Calum wasn’t quite sure how to answer, but the more he turned the question over in his mind, the more convinced he was that there was some joke in it that he had missed.

The confusion must have been fairly evident on his face because she rolled her eyes and blew out an exasperated sigh. The knuckles of the hand still holding her phone gently pushed at his shoulders. “Did you talk to anyone before coming to sit in this corner?”

Calum had half a mind to be affronted, but truthfully, he had only said hello to Michael and gotten a few shots from Crystal. “I said hello to Mikey and Crystal?” He offered sheepishly. He wasn’t shy exactly, but sometimes he needed a little liquid courage before coming to life at a party. It wasn’t hard at a party surrounded by people he knew, but this was mostly Crystal’s friends, and he was not the best at introducing himself to new people.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve talked to almost everyone.” As she spoke, Calum took in the way she was always in motion, fingers rapping aimlessly on her phone case or fidgeting with her popsicle stick, shoes tapping lightly against the hardwood floor. She even took a pause in her speech to wrap scarlet stained lips over the head of the popsicle. Calum had to consciously draw his eyes away from the movement of her mouth so as to not be caught staring.

“Crystal’s trying to defend her title as the undisputed party throwing champ, so she bought a bunch of treats that are basically quintessential to growing up in America in the nineties and early two thousands.” She gestured to the popsicle in hand. “The popsicle, of course, is an important add. And no 90’s popsicle is complete without the joke on the stick.”

It took a moment for Calum to realize she was done speaking, waiting for him to respond. As the popsicle disappeared into her mouth again, Calum found himself unable to concentrate.

His genius response was, “Like a paddle pop?”

And this was why Ashton said there was no sight more amusing than Calum attempting to talk to a pretty girl. To be fair, she had thrown him off his rhythm. She had shown up out of nowhere with her red stained lips and deep brown eyes and a question he couldn’t understand. Her every movement proved a distraction, everything from the way she licked her lips to the way she tucked raven black strands falling loose from her twin dutch braids behind her hair.

Beth snorted in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive, but Calum thought it was cute anyway. “What the fuck is a paddle pop?”

“Ice cream.” He clarified. “On a stick. They used to have jokes on them. Do you guys not have that here? They’re huge in Australia.”

She shook her head, more strands falling free to frame her face. “Sorry Mr. Australia, we only have plain old popsicles here.”

Somehow that had launched them into a conversation about the differences in their American and Australian upbringing. It turns out Beth had been born in New York to immigrant islander parents whose strict adherence to their culture made her feel as if she had grown up in two different countries. To make matters more complicated, Beth had moved to California with her mom after her dad died. She quickly learned that California was like another country all on its own. Despite her eclectic upbringing, they still managed to find areas of common ground. They talked about music (his love for classic rock and her love for early 00s pop), TV shows (Calum hadn’t seen any of her Disney Channel favorites, but they could both agree on their love of Arthur and the Wiggles), toys (Tamagotchis were a yes, Ferbies were a no), their home lives and everything in between. It didn’t escape Calum’s notice how she skirted around any mentions of her mother. He wondered what the story was there but decided not to press her.

Calum wasn’t sure how long they sat in Crystal’s living room talking, or how long it was before Beth reached the end of the popsicle and found her answer (A tree’s favorite drink is root beer) or even how long it was before she had announced her craving for ice cream. He was so enraptured by her; he barely noticed the passage of time. He wanted to lie to himself, to assert that his desire to continue the conversation is what made him invite her over to his house. Truthfully, it was the pull of wanting something more.

Now, she was swinging her short legs off the edge of his kitchen counter and sucking mint chip ice cream from a spoon. Idly, he wondered if she noticed how his eyes had been straying to her lips all night.

“I’m not trying to show off,” Calum grumbled, leaning forward, bracing himself on his elbows on the countertop next to her. It was not an accident the way his forearm grazed the outer edge of her thigh. When she had hopped on the counter, her button front jean skirt had slipped even higher, and he couldn’t help the way the deep color of her skin caught his eye.

She had been flirting with him all night if the gratuitous glances and her light grazes were any indications. Even now as she shoveled another spoonful of ice cream and held it out for him, it felt intimate and teasing, as if they were both after the same thing.

It was easier with her than it had been with his other recent pulls. As much as he had been imagining her lips around his dick the entire night, Calum had also really enjoyed their conversation, and even if he didn’t get to fuck her, he knew he would still save her number and text her in a few days.

“It’s okay if you’re showing off. The only thing I like more than tall, broody strangers are tall, broody strangers with nice houses.”

A blush tinted Calum’s cheeks. “Good, that means my plan is working.”

They smiled shyly at one another then Beth went silent for a moment, all of her attention focused on the ice cream in hand. He wasn’t sure how to verbalize what he was feeling or how to ask if she was feeling it as well.

There was always the possibility that his mind was playing tricks on him, but the way she purred her next question made him think otherwise.

“And what is that plan exactly?”

Calum moved to stand in front of her, but kept a short distance between them, not wanting to give in to his desire until he got the express permission to do so. Slipping off of the counter, Beth mirrored his action. His eyes tracked the way her skirt slid up her thighs before moving back up to her eyes.

He summoned a little courage. It didn’t hurt to ask. “Well if you just want to continue talking and eating ice cream that’s fine. But if you were interested in something more, we can do that too.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” The ice cream tub thudded forgotten on the counter, and she reached out a hand to him. “I’ve been putting the moves on you all night.”

Calum was powerless to resist the pull of her. Mirroring her action, he reached out as well. As soon as their fingers touched, she gripped them tightly, pulling him towards her with one firm tug.

“When?” He asked, teasingly. “The confusing opening question or the couple hours long talk about our families?”

When his hands laid gently on the small of her back, hers twisted in the hair at his nape, the cool metal of her rings occasionally brushing against his scalp. “Okay, I might be bad at the whole flirting thing, but I was basically blowing that popsicle earlier.”

A flash of plush red lips stretching deliciously over the head of the popsicle flashed in Calum’s mind. “Yeah that. . .” He didn’t have words. There must have been an obvious moonstruck look on his face because Beth giggled and pulled him towards her.

“I figured that would work.” A few seconds later, the lips he’d been enchanted by all night were finally on his.

She tasted like the mint chocolate chip ice cream they had just been sharing.

As he savored the taste of her, he allowed his hands to roam, feeling the soft curves of her torso, gripping lightly at the spots he could feel himself becoming obsessed with. He couldn’t wait to get her into bed, to tease with lips roaming everywhere.

Later, he thought, filing those ideas away. For now, he dropped his hands further, grabbing at the meaty flesh of her ass and kneading a few times. Beth moaned into his mouth at the feeling and pressed closer to him. He slid his hands down again, to her thighs this time, and hiked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist in response. A second later, he placed her back on the kitchen counter. They both sighed in relief as the height difference shortened. He no longer had to crane his neck down, and she no longer had to stand on the tips of her toes.

Plus, she was now at the perfect height for him to mouth at her chin. She smelt amazing there, like roses and cocoa butter and the fading hints of an oceany perfume.

Almost reluctantly, he left her chin to toy with her neck. As he moved, he could hear her breath hitch with every nip and suck. By the time he made it to her chest, grabbing the edges of her shirt and pulling it over her head, burying his face happily on the perfect pillow her pushup had created, she began to get whiny.

He smirked.

He loved it when girls got like this.

He loved their high pitched pleas. It felt like reassurance almost, letting him know that they were just as affected by him as he was by them.

“Can I?” He asked, nimble fingers loosely playing with the hook of her bra. She nodded, and the bra was off, joining the shirt on the floor. When he took one nipple into her mouth, rolling the other between his forefinger and thumb, she gasped out his name like a prayer, her nails scratching lightly at the hair at his nape.

“Are we really gonna fuck on this kitchen counter?” Beth asked when he moved on to the next nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first.

He laughed, letting her breast fall from between his lips. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“I’ll say.” Beth gestured pointedly to the way he had his hands on each of her breasts as they spoke, playing with them idly. Sheepish at his lust, but unable to keep his hands off her, he moved them back to her side.

He didn’t make any efforts to leave the kitchen, however. Instead, he dipped his head, so he could curve into her mouth once more.

“You’re intoxicating.” He breathed into her, as if the very act of kissing her was making him drunk. Before they knew it, his hands were roaming again, down thighs this time, fingers digging into the softness there.

It took Beth a minute to get her wits about her, drunk on him too. When she did, she pulled her mouth away, hand gripping Calum’s, forcing their motions to stop.

“Bed, Calum.” She was laughing. At what he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was at the way neither of them could seem to keep their wants at bay long enough to make it up a flight of stairs to Calum’s bedroom.

Both of Calum’s hands went up in the air, and he took an exaggerated step back in a show of restraint. “Okay, okay. I’ll take you to my bedroom.”

He turned and offered his back to her. “Hop on.”

She did, but not without grumbling. “Piggyback ride?”

“Piggyback rides are sexy.”

The melody of her laugh sounded right next to his ear, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I’m really about to have sex with a guy who thinks piggyback rides are sexy. Lord, help me.”

“To be fair, at this point, I’d think doing anything with you was sexy.”

She hopped off his back once in his room, and they shut the door behind them. They didn’t bother turning on any lights but as she moved closer to the bed, the moon shining down from his skylight, illuminating and accentuating her curves. That was more than enough to set his desire alight again. Stalking towards her, he was ready to get his mouth on her once more.

A single finger to the chest stopped him before he could get more than arm's length. “Uh huh.” she purred. “I’m over here in my skirt and panties, and you’re fully clothed. You’re not playing fair, Mr. Hood.”

Hastily, he removed his shirt and his pants then looked to her expectantly. When she gestured to his boxers, he released an indignant, “You too!”

She rolled her eyes, but a few seconds later, they were both standing staring at each other’s naked bodies.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her arms went around her frame, a sign that she was a little self-conscious about the way his eyes drifted over her body.

“Can’t.” He murmured as he crossed the short distance between them. “You’re too beautiful.”

“You can stop laying it on so thick, I’m going to let you fuck me.”

“Bethany.” He paused, searching through all the information she had relayed about herself earlier that night. “Bethany whatever your last name is, I’m not ‘laying it on thick.’ I honestly think that you are gorgeous, and I need you to know that.”

Beth ducked her head as if trying to hide from the compliment, but Calum slipped two fingers under her chin and lift her face up to meet his.

“You’re so cute.” He punctuated each word with a chaste peck on the lips.

“Shut up and take me to bed,” Beth ordered steely, but there was a light blush dusting her cheek and a grateful look in her eye that told Calum she appreciated the way he complimented her.

Unceremoniously, he picked her up, laughing at her yelp in surprise. Then, he crossed the hardwood expanse of his room and deposited her on his bed.

This time when their lips met again, all the frantic heat from the kitchen and the teasing feather light pecks from a few seconds before were replaced with slow, tender movements of their tongues rubbing against one another’s.

All his life, the intimacy of touch was second nature to him, so it was easy for him to pour out his adoration with his mouth and worship her body with his hands. Said wanderers moved up and down her side, gripping at the softness of her middle and her thighs.

He pulled their mouths away, so he could lick down her neck and chest. Every nip and suck drew a slight hitch in her breath. She was easy to arouse. By the time his tongue darted out into the dip of her belly button, she was squirming and pleading, trying to guide his head where she wanted him most.

Instead, he teased her. He skimmed a lightly stubbled cheek against the inside of her thigh, breathing deeply to take in the heady scent of her sex.

“Calum Hood, when are you going to stop teasing me?” her voice waned, dripping with a plea.

He let out a small huff of breath against her thigh and whispered, “Never.”

When he crawled back up her body instead of giving in to her temptation, she shot him an unimpressed look. He let out a short yelp in surprise when she flipped them, sitting up on his thighs.

“I’m taking charge now,” she said pointedly, playfully unamused with his earlier teasing.

Unbidden, she reached her fingers down to rub gently on the underside of his cock. He was already hard, and he knew that in just a few moments, she would have him leaking.

“I’m starting to learn that you like being in charge,” he grunted out. The words were hard to concentrate on as she gripped and stroked him, sending prickles of pressure up and down his spine. She kept eye contact with him as she bowed, bringing soft, plump lips to his tip. God, he had been dreaming about that all night. Overwhelmed, he couldn’t help but moan in arousal.

He could get turned on from the sight of her lips wrapped around his cock alone. Accompanied by the sinful movements of her tongue, he felt as if he was on fire. She bobbed her head, using her hand to cover what she couldn’t reach. As he felt his pleasure building, he knew he had to get in her.

“I thought you said something about letting me fuck you?”  he joked, voice heavy with lust nonetheless.

She pulled off him with a wet pop. “Now, I’m getting carried away.”

He slid the hand that was at her nape to her chin, nudging just enough for her to get a hint. Crawling up his body, she allowed her weight to fall fully atop him, taking a second to dip into his mouth.

“Gonna ride you,” she commanded between kisses.

“Of course you are.” No question she liked setting the pace for them. She had been doing it all night. Riding him would allow her to keep control.

“Condoms?” She asked, already instinctively leaning over him to his bedside table. He didn’t respond, knowing that she would find just want she needed as soon as she opened the drawer. She held up the condom in triumph before settling back over him.

She easily rolled the condom on, but before she could line herself up with his member, Calum pulled her down for a kiss. Every time she moved away, he felt starving for a taste, craving her kisses as much as he craved being inside her.

Immediately after they parted, he brought two fingers to her mouth and commanded, “Suck.”

She pulled them between her lips, tongue coiling around the long digits. When he pulled them out, he was enraptured by the string of translucent saliva that connected them until it broke. Then he was on her. Their lips met with desire as his fingers went to her clit, applying pressure, causing her to gasp into his mouth. He grazed between folds, slipping in and out of her, coaxing shudders from her supple frame.

“Calum.”

Her whines dragged him from his explorations.

“Sorry,” He bit out. It seemed like getting carried away was their theme for the night.

Shaking her head in slight exasperation, she pushed his hand away, then lined herself up with his cock.

Calum couldn’t help but groan, “Fuck,” as he became enveloped in her pulsing heat.

The way she moved on him was sinful. She started slowly, moving up and down, squeezing him gently. That alone was enough for his hands to fly up to her middle, squeezing gently as he threw his head back with a groan. She pressed herself on top of him, and he marveled in the softness of her. When she started kissing his neck and grinding on him in earnest, he decided that they had to do this again.

“Fuck baby girl. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” She asked, and he couldn’t even respond. Sitting up, she had changed her rhythm, moving more enthusiastically against him. His grip on her tightened as he lost control of his hips. She didn’t like that.

When he started bucking up to meet her motions, she placed one delicate hand on his torso and whispered, “Behave.”

“Come on,” he whined, but she ignored his pleas, bouncing lasciviously up and down his dick.

It felt like forever that he was a slave to her motions, the way her hips dropped down to meet his and she clenched around him. Somewhere along the line, he had turned to begging, wanting to take charge, to flip them so he could properly fuck into her.

Finally, she gave into him.

“Alright you big baby,” she had grumbled, then slid right off of him. Lying next to him, she opened up her legs, inviting him in. Both of them groaned when he lined up with her entrance again. He fucked into her slowly while mouthing up and down her neck. At each thrust, she whined and cried out his name. Her fingers clawed up and down his back, bringing pleasure almost to the point of pain.

“You said you wanted to fuck me, so fuck me.” Bossy as always.

He slid his arms beneath her knees, pushing her legs up against her chest so he could drive into her. Their sounds devolved to groans and the calling out of each other’s names. She came first, clenching against him, her whole body shuddering. He felt the moment, immediately following her release, when the sensations changed. When the condom ripped open, and he became intimately familiar with the walls inside her. The feeling came as such a shock to him, but before he could even process it, he was spilling inside her.

There was no relief in his release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Calum was muttering as he pulled out of her. “Shit. The condom ripped.”

Beth did not share his sense of urgency. Amusement glinted in her eyes as she failed to smother a yawn.

“Relax,” she chided lightly. “I have an IUD.”

Then the amusement in her eyes turned biting. “Unless you have an STD?”

Calum shook his head, disposing of the torn latex material. “I don’t have an STD.” It didn’t even cross Calum’s mind to be worried about his own health. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go get you Plan B?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Trust me. I fucked my ex for two years with this IUD. We’re fine.”

Calum still twitched nervously at the edge of the bed, worrying his lip.

“Come back to bed,” Beth ordered. “Come tell me how good that was.”

It took a moment, but eventually, Calum decided to trust her, putting his fears behind him. “That was good.”

He crawled back in bed with her. From her position laying atop him, Beth merely made a sound of agreement.

“Although maybe next time I should just tie you up and have my way with you. Get you to give up control for a second.” His tone was light and teasing, but the way her breath hitched told him that was definitely something they could explore in the future.

“Or maybe,” she said somewhat indignantly, “I should tie you up and have my way with you.”

“We’ll take turns,” he conceded easily and was surprised to hear her murmur in agreement.

She stifled a yawn and asked, “Can I sleep here? Just for a bit. ‘M tired.”

Calum nodded, “Yeah. Stay as long as you like,” unaware that when he awoke, she would be gone.

.

.

.

May 2018

Calum doesn’t even hear Beth’s name again until three years later. And not for lack of trying. The memory of one unanswered text message lived in the dark recesses of his mind - If you’re not busy there’s a new ice cream place in West Hollywood I want to try?

Nothing.

He had agonized over her lack of an answer for days. At one point, he was almost desperate enough to go to Crystal. Eventually, his sense of self-preservation won over his desire to see her again. Michael and Crystal hadn’t been paying attention to him at the party and Ashton and Luke weren’t even there. No one knew of his tryst with Beth, and it was probably better that it stayed that way. If Calum alerted his friends, that was just four more people to watch as he struck out with a girl he was arrogant enough to believe he had left an impression on.

Still, over the years his mind would occasionally shift back to her. He could never shake the feeling that her unanswered text was more than a dismissal. Crystal proved these feelings correct.

“Calum,” she had called as she waltzed into the room. She was ignored by four of the five individuals that lounged in various states of relaxation on her couches.

Calum didn’t even take his eyes off the screen where his disparaging number of kills reminded him why he didn’t like playing video games against Michael. Michael’s devotion to these games went unmatched within the group, which is why it came as a complete surprise when he paused it.

“Hey!” Calum cried out in protest. But when he looked over to Michael to complain, he realized that all Michael’s attention was focused on Crystal. That’s when Calum brain caught up with reality, and he realized that he had missed her calling his name upon entering the room. “Oh shit, sorry. Yes?”

The minute his eyes grazed over her, he knew something was wrong. She was paler than usual, and her lips were clasped into a thin line. “I need to talk to you.”

Ashton query of, “What’s Up?” came before Calum could even open his mouth. There was a distinct note of worry in both Crystal and Ashton’s voice. Something had happened. Even Luke sat up from where his head had been resting in Sierra’s lap to hear what Crystal had to say.

Despite all the attention on her, Crystal’s eyes were still locked on Calum. “Alone.”

Ashton scoffed. “As if he’s not going to tell us exactly what you say three seconds after you say it.”

It was a fair statement. Calum was private about almost everything in his life - except when it came to his best friends. And most of them were in the room at the moment. Crystal’s eyes searched Calum’s as if looking for approval. Calum merely shrugged. He and Crystal lead such separate lives that he couldn’t imagine anything she’d have to say being something Luke, Sierra, Michael and Ashton didn’t already know.

“Do you remember a girl named Beth?”

It wasn’t until the words were out of her mouth that he remembered the one thing Luke, Sierra, Michael and Ashton didn’t know. His mind swam with a million reasons why he would be hearing her name again after all these years.

Calum saw Ashton open his mouth, no doubt to say that they didn’t know a Beth. Before he could speak, however, Calum uttered, “Yes.”

“What?” Ashton said in a bought of incredulity. “I’ve literally never heard you mention a Beth.”

“We had a one night stand like three years ago,” Calum revealed with a dismissive wave. The light air about him did nothing to quell the worried feeling budding in the pit of his stomach. “Crystal why are you bringing her up now?”

Crystal spoke slowly as if she was afraid her next words would startle Calum. “Because she’s back in LA. Because she says she’s looking for you.”

At her final words, Calum could feel all the air get caught in his throat. “And because she’s walking around with a two year old that looks an awful lot like you.”

.

.

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The Next Day (May 2018)

The next time he saw Beth, he marked little differences between her then and when they were eighteen. Curly shoulder length hair was tucked behind her ear, and he couldn’t remember if it was that same auburn color the first time he had met her. He didn’t spend long noting the deep brown eyes or perfectly shaped cupids bow that had flitted around in his memory throughout the years. He couldn’t really because his eyes were drawn to something else.

To someone else.

Standing with a tiny hand slotted firmly into her mother’s was Lennon. Even if Calum hadn’t looked into a mirror almost every day of his short 22 year old life, he would have recognized those eyes, the round cheeks, and prominent chin anywhere. They were his family traits now unmistakably carried on in Lennon. Curly hair was bundled into two small buns atop her head, and the hand that wasn’t in her mother’s drank juice from a pink sippy cup.

She eyed Calum wearily, as if unsure whether he could be trusted. Calum looked to Beth for permission, and when she shrugged, he stooped to be face to face with his daughter.

“Hi,” he tried, gently.

She moved closer to her mother’s side and didn’t even remove her sippy cup before mumbling, “Hello.”

“She’s shy with people she doesn’t know,” Beth said by way of explanation. Calum tried to ignore the way his heart squeezed at the fact that he was a stranger to his own daughter.

They met in a park at Beth’s insistence. It was the smaller of two in the gated community he lived in, but it had plenty of space for Lennon to play while he and Beth talked privately.

“You must hate me.”

These were the first words Beth said to him after getting Lennon situated in a sandbox. The way she ungraciously fell on the bench next to him brought him back to the moment they met. There was never really anything poised or deliberate about her. He had liked that.

Calum sighed, considering her words carefully. “I don’t hate you.”

It had been almost 24 hours since Calum had learned about his daughter, and he had thought of little else since. He didn’t hate Beth, but he wasn’t sure how to feel either.

“I’m sorry,” She continued on as if Calum had confirmed his ‘hate.’ “I know there’s no version of this where I come out looking favorable. Either I ruined your life by causing you to miss the first two years of your daughter’s life, or I’m ruining it now by bringing an unwanted child into the mix.”

It was a good point. Calum didn’t like that for the first time in his life Hood brown eyes had stared back at him untrusting. At the same time, he wasn’t sure if he would have been ready for a child at 19. Or if he was ready for a child now.

He steered the conversation in a different direction. “I have questions.”

Beth sighed as if those very words were the last thing she wanted to hear. She leaned forward, bringing both elbows to her thighs. Her small hands pushed at the curls gathered next to her ear, and after a moment she said, “Okay. What do you want to know?”

Everything.

But Calum didn’t go with his instinctual response. Instead, he poked at the one thing that had been niggling him all these years. “I texted you.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, she suggested, “Perhaps I should tell you the story from the beginning, and you can ask questions at the end.”

Calum’s eyes briefly left the nervous twitch of her leg and moved over to where his daughter used a plastic shovel to scoop sand into a pail. He was sure this would be a long story. Relaxing back a little into the bench, he said, “Okay. Go ahead.”

“You should know that I went to Crystal’s party with every intention to hook up with a guy I would never see again.”

Calum couldn’t help the low hiss he expelled as he thought back to how he had wanted nothing more but to see her again.

“That explains the unanswered text.”  

She nodded sharply, agreeing. “I didn’t think that we’d have so much fun together. I thought I’d saddle up to you, pretend to blow my popsicle, then get to blow you and be on my way.” She said it with a bitter laugh. “It was my first time ever doing something like that too - having a one night stand with a stranger I’d never met. Figures it would be just my luck that I’d end up pregnant from it.”

“But where’d you go? I went to so many of Crystal’s stupid parties after that, and I never saw you.”

When her brown eyes met his, he remembered he was supposed to keep his questions until the end.

“I’m not very good at telling the story, am I?” She asked with a very rueful smile. It was as if there was something at the beginning of the story that made it hard to tell. Eventually, she spat it out. “When you met me Calum, my mother had just died.”

Calum sucked in a breath. He had a feeling it would be something bad.

“She was sick for a while, so I had to drop out of college to take care of her. Then she died, and I was alone. I didn’t know what to do with my life. I had a terrible job and an ungrateful boss and a year’s worth of crippling debt from medical expenses I couldn’t help to pay off. That’s why when my dad’s cousin showed up at my mother’s funeral and invited me to move in with her in New York, it felt like a blessing.”

The way she spat the words suggested it was just the opposite. But she didn’t follow that train of thought. Instead, she went back to the night of the party. “I just wanted to spend one night having the quintessential college experience I knew I never would. I wanted to get drunk, party, and hook up with a guy. Crystal had a lot of friends in the UCLA art department, so I had been to her parties before. When I got invited to this one, it felt like a godsend.” She met his eyes purposefully. “You felt like a godsend. Plus, you’re a celebrity. And by some miracle, you were interested in me. I had heard rumors that one-night stands were kind of your M.O., so I went for it.”

Calum wanted to interrupt her, indignant at the rumors about his sex life, but he held his tongue.

“Then you know what happened next,” She continued. “I never expected to have so much fun with you. Why couldn’t you be the vapid, egotistical bassist I was expecting you to be?”

He chuckled and shot her a wry smile. “I’ll try harder from now on.”

Soft hands found his, squeezing gently. It was a gesture of gratefulness, no doubt for the way he had patiently sat, listening to her story, no trace of resentment on his face. Unthinking, Calum laced his long fingers through hers, smiling when she didn’t pull away.

“I went back to New York the next day. I didn’t realize I was pregnant for a while. I had missed periods before because of stress, and for three long months, I thought the stress of adapting to my new life in New York, a new life without my mother, were the root of my problems. I was three and a half months in before I went to go see my gynecologist.”

Calum had to ask a question then. “Why didn’t you call me?” Purposefully, he kept his voice gentle.

Her tone was fraught with distress when she responded. “Calum, I was a college dropout with thousands of dollars in medical expenses when I met you, a newly rich bassist with more than enough money to solve my problems. Then, when the condom tore, I somehow forgot my fucking IUD had expired and insisted I didn’t need Plan B. You don’t think I thought of calling you? I have thought about reaching out to you every day for the past three years. But, I couldn’t help but wonder how that would look to you. I worried you would see this as some elaborate plan to swindle you out of your money.”

He wanted to tell her that he would never do something like that, but remembered the way Ashton had sneered, “She’s probably lying.” When they had finally gotten the full story from him and Crystal.

“Plus, that night. . .”

There’s no need for her to finish. The moment flashes before him, the memory of their words clear in his mind’s eye.

“Sometimes I think I want to have a whole brood of children. I really hated being an only child.”

Beth was laughing before she had even finished talking. Calum’s sour expression gave away just how turned off he was to that idea.

“What?” she began, gesturing to the crinkle of his nose. “I’m guessing you’re not a fan of children?”

She stuck the popsicle back between her lips and waited for his response.  “Yeah, I don’t think I want kids.” He grumbled. “I can’t imagine myself with kids. Not now and probably not ever.”

In the present, they sat and watched the inconceivable jump around and play in the park. They were still holding hands. Both were seated with their faces forward; however, neither of their eyes strayed far from Lennon as the conversation wore on.

She had done a good job of navigating through her past. A part of Calum knew that he should be angry. Whether it was at Beth or the circumstances, he wasn’t sure. Even so, most of what he felt was regret, and the guilt-inducing thought that he wouldn’t have done anything differently. He wished Beth never went through all that pain, but he was a different person at 19. Teenage Calum could not handle a child. 22 year old Calum, however? His time traveling around the world with the boys had instilled a need for a family. Someone to come home to. A knowledge that his community extended beyond his friends and their girlfriends.

There was one more question, one that he had to ask before he and Beth found a way to step into their future.

“Why now?”

He wasn’t expecting her to break down and cry.

.

.

.

Present Day

The patter of tiny feet on their hardwood floor was enough to draw Calum from his slumber. Knowing his three year old, she probably thought she was being sneaky. But, everything from the creak of the door to her high pitched giggles and the aforementioned heavy footfalls gave her away. Calum pretended to be asleep anyway. One day her childlike innocence would give way beneath the harsh realities of life, but Calum wanted to keep that at bay for as long as possible.

There was a sharp tug against the sheet tangled around his waist as his daughter tried to climb into bed with him. The first time she had done it, it just about gave Beth a heart attack. The very next day, they had gone out and purchased a toddler friendly, easily climbable bed.

Beth.

The bed was noticeably void of the warm body he usually woke up next to. This was unusual, as Beth was even less of a morning person than he was. But, today was a year anniversary of the day he and Beth re-met. A few days earlier was the anniversary of –

Calum had a hard time even thinking about it. In the year that followed, what Beth said that day through tears and gritted teeth often haunted him. If he were more prone to anger, perhaps he would have flown out to New York and saw that the people who wronged her were brought to justice. But Beth had enough forgiveness for the both of them. (And, as she often reminded him, the law wasn’t usually on the side of people like her.)

He was jerked from reminiscing on their past when his daughter landed squarely on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“Lennon,” he groaned. The worst thing about having a toddler? She was always kicking him or kneeing him in some way with her unrestrained motions.

“Oops, sorry daddy.” She still struggled to pronounce her R sounds, so it came out more as “Sowwy.”

Calum might have been mad if she wasn’t so cute. When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with familiar brown ones staring right back at him. She was sat on his stomach clutching her favorite stuffed chameleon Miti (pronounced Mighty) to her chest. The chameleon was named after her favorite hair color changing uncle who, up until the time she was three, was also dubbed “Mi-ti.” Mikey was glad once that phase was over and jokes about his strength, or lack thereof, came to an end. (Unfortunately, Ashton still had to endure being called “Unka Ass” much to the amusement of everyone but him.)

“Hey, where’s your mommy, huh?”

Calum brought a finger up to poke at her side, smiling as she giggled and squirmed away from it. When she didn’t answer, he worked her other side. Then again and again until he had to sit up, repositioning her in his lap, giddy at the sight of his daughter squirming and laughing at the movements of his fingers.

Eventually, her giggles turned to squeals intermixed with pleas of “Daddy, no!”

He gave in. His long fingers paused as he brought Lennon up to his chest, cradling her as he placed kisses around her face.

“Let’s go find your mom, huh?” He asked but didn’t wait for an answer before standing up with her in his arms and making his way to the kitchen.

“Beth?” He called her name a few times but was only answered once with a bark from Duke. He smiled as the small dog came into view. From his arms, Lennon smiled down at the rescue, waving the hand that wasn’t clutching her chameleon. The dog barked in response to her hello.

Eventually, Duke, Calum, and Lennon found Beth outside, standing on their deck.

“Mommy!” Lennon called out. As soon as Beth turned to face them, it was apparent that she had been standing out there crying. Calum placed his squirming daughter on the floor so she could rush to her mother’s side. A lot of things had changed in the past year. One thing that hadn’t was how protective Lennon was of her mother.

Beth reached down to pick their daughter up. Settling her firmly on her hip, Beth pressed a kiss to Lennon’s hair.

“Mommy, you’re crying.”

Beth laughed at their daughter’s astute observational skills. Then, she took in the twin looks of worry on Calum and Lennon’s face.

“I’m fine,” she promised.

Calum took a few steps closer. He reached his hand up slowly, then wiped at her tear stained cheeks.

“They’re tears of joy, Calum.” She assured. “One year ago, you saved me. And I was just so overwhelmed by my love and gratitude that I started crying.”

Calum wasn’t sure if he would call what he did saving. A couple years after Beth moved back east, her cousin's husband had stumbled home in the middle of the day, drunk out of his mind. He had pulled Beth from where she was sitting next to her sleeping daughter and into his bedroom. Then, he had proceeded to do unthinkable things to Beth with her daughter just down the hall.

Beth had always been built on pride and self-reliance. These were instilled in her from years of watching her mother take care of the two of them all on her own. Beth had been lured to the east coast with the promise of a family - someone to take care of her so that for once she could give up control. Not once had Beth imagined that the family she had spent most of her adolescent life dreaming of would abuse her.

Calum didn’t like thinking about it, but he knew that if Beth didn’t have Lennon, she might have stayed. It was easy for her mind to confuse giving due thanks and allowing someone to take more than what they were owed. But In the aftermath, two year old Lennon had sleepily stumbled into the room, only to find her mother strewn out and crying on the bed. Beth had only needed to take one look into her daughter’s eyes to know what needed to be done.

She had bought a ticket for California the very next day. On the park bench that day, Beth had said between sobs, “Don’t worry about me. I just want my baby to be happy. Will you take care of her, please?”

Instead, Calum had asked them both to stay. To be honest, he hadn’t been sure what would happen next. For a while, they were nothing more than two people sharing the same space and a child. Sometime between then and a year later, they became something more. Calum hadn’t realized how lonely he had been until Beth and Lennon found him. And Beth hadn’t known how to put her trust and love into someone who would not abuse it.

“We saved each other,” Calum whispered, bringing his thoughts back to the present moment in front of him.

“We love you, Mommy,” Lennon said sagely before leaning her head on her mother’s shoulder. Calum wrapped his arms around them both, placing his cheek on Beth’s hair. He realized suddenly that he had never been as happy as he was in that moment, his love and his daughter in his arms.

-- 

Part 2

let me know what you think of calum, lennon & beth! love yall! 

tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @hotmessmichael / @hereforlukescruff/ @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash 

[lilacflamesss]

Shattered (Chapter 7)

Smutty Ayahina College AU

Summary: Hinami tries to deal with her sorrows through seeking Ayato out. Ayato can never turn away the girl he loves far more than he should. Two people with unrequited feelings, dealing with them in very different ways. Human AU. (8k words)

Warning: This fic contains unhealthy coping mechanisms, heavy sexual content, and plenty of problematic/ dubious things which I absolutely do not condone at all. This is a work of fiction that takes on a more mature, physical take on Ayahina’s relationship as opposed to the typical conventional one. Please feel free not to read this fic if it’s not your cup of tea! Additional trigger warning for stillbirth since this is an add-on to the previous chapters.

A/N: It’s been a very long time since Chapter 6 and I apologize for that. I want to thank everyone for all the support you’ve been given to this fic! This isn't a very heavy chapter. It’s mostly smut and a bunch of talks. I struggled a lot with this actually. I wasn’t too sure how to present Hinami’s change of heart. I tried my best so I hope everyone enjoys it!  Please do reblog this and feel free to leave some comments!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 4.5 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Vday Side Chapter | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Preview:

“What did the two of you talk about?”

He blinks and she swears she sees a flash of seriousness in his eyes. It is gone far too quickly, but she’s sure she saw it and she’s also sure that it was a scary expression.

“It’s nothing,” he says, his voice gruff.

“Really?”

“She asked me to clean the counter. That’s all.”

Oh, thank god. Hinami lets herself calm down. “Then… do you… want to continue where we let of?” she asks.

Ayato’s eyes go round. “What?”

“No… I…” She hesitates, flushing as she turns away. “You were in the middle of… you know…”

He glances down at her and she sees him nibble lightly on his lip before he turns to her again, brows furrowed. “Is there anything wrong? You’ve been very into it tonight.”

He noticed it as well apparently. She’d have been more embarrassed about it, but Ayato’s hand is reaching towards her shorts. He presses against her crotch lightly, massaging it softly. She closes her eyes and relaxes, choosing to focus on his fingers. But it’s just not enough. She wants more.

“Ayato… can you…”

“Can I what?” She opens her eyes, fully intending to fume at his teases, but when she does look at him, he doesn’t look like he was joking at all. He looked serious, at a lost and almost distracted, even. She blinks, slight worry surfacing in her again. Maybe he noticed that as well as his eyes widen slightly before he leans forward, pressing his lips to hers.

He kisses her gently, soft and chaste. There’s no hunger in this, just sweetness. He’s gentler than he was just now, but even then, it makes her giddy. A fleeting thought surfaces in her mind. Maybe it’s okay, even if it’s just this. She loves the feeling of his lips against hers. He tastes like the coffee from before. His lips are a little chapped, but still a little damp, maybe from the kisses just now.

Even when he’s limiting himself, she finds herself pushing through. She wants more. No matter how much she feels and touches him, it doesn’t feel enough at all. There’s something missing, something that she so desperately want to experience with him. But what exactly is it she’s at a complete loss.

What is this feeling? She’s sure she’s felt it before, but she doesn’t think Ayato’s made her feel like that before.

He pushes her down onto the bed and crawls over her. He withdraw his hand from between her legs and Hinami doubts she’s ever felt this empty before. She wants him to continue touching her; she wants to feel him more. Even as she’s shifting her hips awkwardly, Ayato doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it. He flashes her a weak smile and brings a hand to her face, pushing her bangs out of her face and lightly stroking her cheek.

“I love you, Hinami,” he murmurs.

“What are the two of you doing?”

Kaneki’s voice snaps him out of the trance he found himself in. He tears his eyes away from Hinami’s and turns to Kaneki, mind reeling in surprise and confusion. Why is Hinami here? Why is she so wet? Why is she wearing his clothes? But, most importantly, what the fuck just happened?

“I’d appreciate if the two of you keep that behind closed doors. I have a young daughter in this house,” Kaneki says, clearing his throat. He holds out a mug and nods at Hinami. “I have some hot tea… since someone didn’t drink his.”

Ayato narrowed his eyes. Sure, he hadn’t drunk his because he had completely forgotten about it. But tea was clearly the last thing on his mind when he had his sister crying in his arms. By the time Kaneki had returned from his shower and Touka had calmed down, Ayato was mostly dried and the tea had gone cold. Kaneki had seemed annoyed that his hard work went to waste but Ayato couldn’t care less. Besides, just like his sister, he isn’t the biggest fan of tea.

Hinami looks at Kaneki, then at Ayato and then back to Kaneki again. Her brows are a little furrowed. She looks almost troubled. “Big Brother…” she says a little uncomfortably.

She’s still holding him. He realises that as her fingers dig into his chest. Even as she stares at Kaneki, she doesn’t seem to have moved an inch away from him at all. And just how is that supposed to be anything but weird?

“Hinami?” he murmurs.

Her head snaps to over to him, her eyes widening for some reason. “Yes?”

“Kaneki made you some tea… You should drink it…”

She turns to Kaneki again and maybe it’s only now that Hinami realises what’s going on. Her cheeks colour and she jumps away from Ayato with a soft squeak. She hurries over to Kaneki and takes the mug from him. “Right, tea. Thank you very much, Big Brother. You didn’t have to go through the trouble and make this.”

Kaneki watches her as she drinks, his brows furrowing a little. “It wasn’t much of a trouble… It’s actually Ayato’s tea--”

Hinami coughs, almost choking and spitting her drink out. She clasps a hand over her mouth, trying to regain her composure, as both Ayato and Kaneki stare at her in confusion.

“Hinami? Are you okay?” Kaneki asks slowly.

“I’m fine…” she says quickly. She drinks the rest of her tea in one go, chugging it down before she passes the mug to Kaneki. She takes a few steps away from him, rubbing her arm quickly. “Thank you very much, Big Brother. This was very delicious…”

“You should get dressed,” Kaneki says. “Ayato, can you keep this mug for me? I’ll go get Touka and we’ll get Hinami settled.”

“You don’t have to Big Brother… I’ll just go home now--”

“You’re not going home now. It’s in the middle of the night,” Kaneki snaps at her. He takes her by the shoulder, pushing her deeper into the house. He hands the mug over to Ayato as he walks past him before he leads Hinami down the corridor to the room right at the end. He knows that room. It used to be his parents’ room, but it seems like Touka and Kaneki might have taken over it. Perhaps some things about the house really did change. He wonders what happened to his room. Did that change as well?

Did Hinami?

The thought surfaces in his mind randomly. Hinami’s kisses were different, maybe something changed as well. Deep down, maybe something feels different for her. He wonders if that explains why it took her so long to pull away from him to go to Kaneki. She paid attention to him despite Kaneki being around. That’s an achievement, isn’t it? After all, it’s Kaneki, the person she had obsessed over since god knows when.

A lump rises in his throat. His stomach feels weird; it’s churning, even though he’s not hungry or scared. He’s glad he’s alone. He probably has a stupid expression on right now. But the thought of there being something, the thought of there being the possibility of a chance, even the slightest, sends his entire being into disarray.

He’s never really considered it before. He’s had fantasies but they’ve never gone beyond that. He’s never taken any of them too seriously, not even when Hinami made the promise to him that they could try and be more. But right now, he feels his mind wandering into a whole new territory. What would he do if maybe-- just maybe-- Hinami eventually comes to return his feelings?

It doesn’t really come as a surprise to him when Touka and Kaneki refused to let him and Hinami sleep in the same room. Touka especially seemed really adamant about it. She didn’t even seem happy about the fact that Hinami showed up, though she barely said anything about it. If Ayato hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought that Touka hated her on sight or something, but he doubts that’s the case. It’s likely there’s another reason for his sister’s annoyance.  

That’s how he ended up in his old room-- the floor to be particular. Touka had said that Hinami could sleep with her in hers and Kaneki’s bedroom, their father’s old bedroom. Apparently, his uncle was staying over that night so the guest room was taken up and the kid’s room doesn’t really have the space for anyone else, which meant that Kaneki had to bunk with Ayato. Of course, they weren’t going to share a bed. Kaneki had left it to Ayato, but Ayato didn’t know how everyone else would take it if he made Kaneki sleep on the floor. It could go two ways-- Touka hits Kaneki on the head for making their guest sleep on the floor or Touka hits Ayato on the head for making Kaneki sleep on the floor after everything Ayato has done.

Touka had gotten him a comfortable pillow and a quilt, but after tossing and turning a couple of times, it was clear he isn’t going to be falling asleep any time soon. He’s still partly conflicted over Hinami’s actions earlier on. She had seemed different, but now that he has some time to ponder over it, maybe he’s thinking too much of everything. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Hinami really did feel something for him. Maybe she didn’t. His head hurts as he thinks about everything that had happened all. He had waited so long for her that the thought of her possibly reciprocating his feelings now out of all time feels too surreal.

He gives up trying to sleep after a while and gets up. Maybe he’ll get himself a drink. He hadn’t drunk Kaneki’s tea earlier after all. Some coffee might do him good. Perhaps it’ll calm him down. He still feels a little on edge. It had been a long day and an even longer night. His mind is in a mess and nothing is helping to really clear things up much. He’s made up with his sister (somewhat) and he’s a step towards coming to terms with what had happened, but Hinami’s actions aren’t really helping to soothe him any further.

He leaves the room silently. The house is dark and Ayato’s reminded of times he had snuck out to mess around with his friends back during his high school days. They hadn’t done anything illegal or anything to get into trouble much, but it had been a lot of fun relaxing with them, especially back when his relationship with his father had been so tensed. But thinking about it, it was also after sneaking out on a dark night like this that he had ended up with broken bones in a hospital bed.

Ayato shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about that again, not now especially. He enters the kitchen silently and switches on the light. It’s easy to locate the equipment for brewing coffee; Touka hadn’t changed anything much in the house. Touka had taught him the basics and he still remembers them. It’s not long before he has some coffee ready.

He’s pouring himself coffee when he hears footsteps behind him. He doesn’t pay much attention to them until he hears them stop behind him.

“You’re awake…”

He glances behind him. Hinami stands a short distance away, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. They’re probably Touka’s clothes. He doubts he’s seen Hinami in a pair of shorts before, aside from high school PE lessons. They actually look pretty good on her, though that comes as no surprise to him. Hinami looks good in anything she wears.

“You’re awake too,” he comments, turning back to his coffee.

Hinami comes over to his side and eyes him for a moment before she lets out a soft chuckle. “Coffee at such a time… Really?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“And the coffee is going to help,” Hinami sighs. He takes a sip, flashing her an annoyed look that earns him a soft laugh. As he’s putting the cup down, she reaches for it, placing her hand over his as she brings it to her lips. “I want some too.”

He’s silent as she drinks. He can’t help but look down at her, eyes narrowed slightly as she’s looking at the cup of coffee. Her thin lips part a little, pressed against the edge of the cup. Her hands feel warm over his, fingers hovering above his, almost touching but still not so much.

“It’s nice,” she comments, looking up at him. She doesn’t push the cup away or let go of it. Her hands continue to linger on his. She stares at him in silence for a long moment-- or it feels like a long moment to him anyway. Whenever he has those huge brown eyes staring up at him like that, he isn’t exactly able to keep track of time. It could be forever, for all he cares, and he won’t have a problem with it at all. Her eyes are beautiful after all.

Hinami’s expression softens after some time and her hands press down on him a little more. “Are you feeling better now?”

Of course she’ll ask. He’s silent as he thinks of his answer initially. There’s still the heaviness that’s weighing down on him, dragging his heart down and burdening his shoulders. But after reconciling with Touka and holding her as she cries, he had felt a little better. The worry feels more like a void now. He doesn’t really know what he feels. A step closer as he previously had thought, but not quite at the destination yet.

“I… don’t feel as bad as I was before at least,” he admits. She nods at his words, letting her hands drop to her sides. He must have worried her a lot. She did come looking for him in the middle of the night despite the heavy rain after all. He doesn’t really understand why she’d go to such lengths for him, but he feels happy thinking about it, a small, fleeting lightness that appears in the depths of his belly. Not to mention, that happened as well. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she replies, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

“You ran through the rain like that… I doubt it’s nothing…” he says, with a soft sigh. “Why would you do that?”

“Why?”

“You know… it’s not like I’m that important, right? You’re not in love with me or anything…” He says that without really thinking through it and it’s only after he says it that he realises it’s a dumb statement. It did seem a little inappropriate given everything that happened, though it is something that is burning in his mind. Answers would be nice.

Hinami’s eyes widen and she turns a little red. She chews her lips a little and shakes her head. “I… I thought you were going to kill yourself or something.”

“Ah… then…” He turns away, wanting to say something to her yet not knowing what to say. That explains it, he supposes. He almost feels stupid for thinking that it could be more. “That’s it? Someone else is about to kill themselves so you want to stop it… That sort of thing?”

“No, that’s not all… You’re more than just someone else… Ayato is someone I care about a lot,” she says.

“Care?”

“Yeah… well… You’re really important to me, you’re always there for me more than a lot of my friends are. You’re… you and I will worry about you because I care about you.”

Care, not love. He feels dumb for even hoping. Change? What bullshit. It’s the same as she had told him all those weeks ago. He’s important because he’s him.

He chugs down the remaining coffee and places the mug in the sink. “We should probably go back to sleep.”

“Are you sleepy?” she asks. “After that coffee?”

“Not really.”

“Then… we can stay here for a bit, right?” she says slowly. “I don’t feel like going to sleep either. It’s awkward sleeping in the same bed as your sister.”

Ayato can relate. He’s sleeping in the same room as Kaneki. Thankfully not on the same bed, but just the thought of being in the same room-- sleeping in the same room-- with Kaneki just gives him the creeps. He probably shouldn’t be too hard on Kaneki. There really isn’t anything he should hate Kaneki for right now, maybe except for that one time he might have accidentally pushed Ayato in front of an oncoming truck, but other than that, Kaneki had been nice to his irrationally mean and bratty brother-in-law. But accepting Kaneki is one thing and sleeping in the same room is a whole other.

“Yeah, we can stay here for a bit… What do you want to do though?” he asks.

“Nothing in particular,” she murmurs, taking a step closer to him. They’re already so close and now it feels like she’s almost pressing against him. Hinami spins him around to face her completely, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulls him downwards.

“Hinami,” he sighs, but she silences any further words by pressing her lips against his. She jumps right into it again, pushing her tongue into his mouth and pressing herself against him even more. She rarely kisses him like that, especially not when they’re not in the middle of doing anything. Her touch is desperate as it begins wandering around his body, hands moving down to the hem of the t-shirt he is wearing as they slide under.

“Wanna do it?” she murmurs softly against his lips, fingers stroking the taut muscles of his abdomen. He feels his belly clench, from both her touch and the implication of her words. He pulls away from her slightly, just enough to look at her face. Her eyes are narrowed, looking up at him sultrily, as her thin lips curve into a playfully smirk.

“Now? Here?”

“Yeah… Everyone’s asleep… No one will see…” she says softly.

“Is… everything okay?” he asks.  

“I want to do it with you.” She bites her lips as she mutters the words, turning her head away slightly. “Please? I just want to feel you.”

“I don’t know… I-- Hinami?” He lets out a soft moan as Hinami pulls him into another kiss, one hand sliding down to lightly rub his crotch.

“If you don’t want to do it… at least let me do this,” she says. She pulls away from him and drops to her knees. It doesn’t take long before he’s hard from her stroking and Hinami grins victoriously at this. She looks up at him again, eyes silently asking for permission and Ayato relents, nodding slightly. She hooks her fingers at the waistband of his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers. Although he can’t see it, Ayato knows his cheeks are probably flushed. He’s standing in the middle of his sister’s kitchen, with Hinami on the verge of sucking him off. How would Touka react to this if she sees it? Or Kaneki? What if their kid comes in?

“Relax,” she murmurs, beginning to stroke him slowly. He looks down at her and she’s grinning again. She brings her mouth close to his dick, kissing the head lightly, but not doing anything else aside from her continued strokes. With his head pressed against her lips, Ayato aches to push himself in.

“Hinami…” he moans softly. She sticks her tongue out, licking the beaded liquid that’s starting to gather.

“What?”

“Can you…” He pauses, choking out a whimper as she licks his head again, this time twirling her tongue along its circumference. “Can you… take it… Ah!”

She wraps her lips around the tip, sucking lightly. She keeps her attention to the head, while her hand continues moving. Her tongue darts against him in kittish licks and it has his knees shaking, hips buckling at the building pleasure that’s barely enough to satisfy him. He grabs the kitchen counter with one hand as the other fists in her hair, urging her to take more in.

“Hina… Hinami please…”

“Very well.”

A moan that is far too loud escapes him as Hinami takes him in entirely, swallowing around his dick as he’s pushed into her throat. She wastes no time bobbing her head and Ayato thrusts his hips to the same rhythm. Her mouth feels so good-- just the right warmth and wetness. He wants to feel it more.

“Hinami…”

She releases his dick, only to continue licking it-- the tip, the length, the underside. She presses soft, open-mouthed kisses randomly to the sides, letting her teeth run against him. She’s teasing him. He realises it after a short while when he opens his eyes slightly to see her watching him playfully. He wants more and she knows that. But she’s just not giving it.

“Hinami… please…” he groans and she pulls herself away from his dick, only to press soft kisses on his balls. Ayato’s whimpering. He can’t believe he’s making those kinds of sounds, but he is. There’s something about being at her mercy that excites him so much, just like it had done a short while back when they were back in his place. Since when had she been the one to call the shots anyway? Just because he gave her one chance, maybe it’s starting to get to her head.

“Do you want to come?” she asks softly.

“What do you think?” he grumbles.

“If you don’t ask for it, I can’t give it to you,” she says. She licks his ball, before taking them in her mouth and sucking hard. Ayato chokes, doubling forward. His legs are trembling so much that he wonders just how he’s even still standing.

“Hina… fuck… Hinami… Please…”

“Please what?” She moves from his balls, going back to licking his length, almost as if she’s savouring it.

“Let me come… Please…” It didn’t even take that much from Hinami to leave him a begging mess and it this takes him by surprise more than Hinami’s attitude does. He doesn’t get much time to think about it though. Hinami has him in her mouth again, sucking him harder as she moves her head. He feels his tip hit the back of her throat repeatedly as it constricts against him. She swallows around him and the squeeze is just right it leaves him begging for more and more. Just a little more… Just a little more and--

She pulls away right as he’s about to fall off the edge. His eyes shoot open as he looks down at her, moving away from him and getting to her feet. Hinami meets his eyes with a cheeky expression, licking her lips in an exaggerated action.

“W-Wha…?”

She’s looking up at him with a cheeky smirk, victoriously. He’s almost annoyed. He was on the edge. He was right about to come. Just… how dare she? Ayato’s scowling at her and she raises her fingers to her mouth, licking off the pre-cum that seems to have gotten on them.

“I don’t think it’s fair if you’re the only one who gets to come, right-- Ah!” He cuts her off with a rough kiss, pushing her against the counter as his body traps her underneath him perfectly. This sneaky, sneaky woman. Ayato pulls away from her lips, moving to her neck as he sucks and nibbles, making sure to leave as many marks as he can. His hand slides under her t-shirt, cupping a breast and squeezing it as hard as he could.

“Still no bra, huh?” he mocks as she lets out a breathless moan. He doesn’t wait too long; she’s made him wait long enough. He’s gonna make this quick-- enter her and fill her up as quickly as he can. Ah, he totally fell for her trap, didn’t he? He’s giving her what she wants after all. If that’s the case, then he should make sure he enjoys this as much as he can.

Ayato pulls her off the counter and flips her around, pressing himself against her back and burying his face in the nape of her neck. He kisses her softly as her hands press against the countertop to steady herself. He pulls the shorts off her and tosses it aside, wasting no time before he’s rubbing her hard through the damp cotton fabric of her underwear. Hinami grinds her hips against his finger, arching her back with a loud moan. This is what she wanted, isn’t it? She wanted to do it right? If she wanted it, he’ll give her just what she wants. He pushes her panties aside with his other hand and plunges into her. Hinami cries out, legs buckling as he slams into her while still rubbing her hard with his other hand. He slips his hand under the fabric, rubbing her clit roughly with two fingers. She’s so wet.

“Right there… right there…” she whimpers. “Please Ayato… This feels so good.”

He fucks her faster, finger pressing against the bundle of nerves even harder. She’s dragged to her climax far too easily and Ayato smirks as she rides it out, moaning his name. But he hasn’t come yet and if Hinami’s words meant anything, he needs to as well or it won’t be fair. He nips her lightly on her shoulder before he pulls out of her, flipping her around to lift her onto the kitchen counter. Hinami slumps backwards, watching him with hazy, narrowed eyes. She seems to get the idea though as she spreads her legs slightly as he watches her.

“Come on,” she urges amidst her deep breaths.

He reaches for her panties and pulls them down in a swift movement, only bothering to unhook one leg and leaving it gathered at her left knee. He pushes her legs up, resting them on his shoulders before pushing into her again. Her hand moves to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, kissing him lightly. It dawns on him that she’s practically hugging him, even as he continues to pound into her repeatedly, and that her touches and kisses right now were gentle and soft. A hard thrust to her weak spot has her clenching completely around him. She’s so warm; he fits in her so nicely, so perfectly.

He’s bitter. He wishes she is his.

“Ayato… Oh god, Ayato,” she moans against his neck.

“I’m gonna come…” he chokes out and she presses herself harder against him, hugging him tighter. He picks up his pace. He’s already going so fast and hard, but he drives into her with whatever strength he has in him. Hinami cries out strangled moans, her voice fading to mere choked gasps, almost void of any sound.

“Ah-A… Aya…to” He can barely make out his name as she comes again, squeezing onto him so hard he almost comes right there. But he lets her ride it out first, slowing his pace a little until she’s left as a writhing heap under him before picking up his pace and ramming into her again. He finishes deep into her with a soft groan, letting himself collapse against her. He’s barely able to pull himself out of her and he feels some liquid drip out along with his dick.

“Fuck… I came so much…”

“You made a mess,” she complains softly, still panting as she tries to regain her breath. Ayato raises his head to look at her and Hinami pouts at him in response. She hesitates for a while, reddening as he watches her before she speaks. “You should… clean it up.”

“Huh?”

“Since you made a mess… you should clean it up…” she says. “I borrowed your sister’s shorts, I don’t want to dirty them too much.”

Excuses. But despite knowing that Hinami wasn’t being too sincere about the shorts, Ayato finds himself obliging as he slowly drops to his knees, adjusting his pants in the process. It feels a little weird. Hinami doesn’t really initiate anything much normally. But right now, just like a few hours ago, she seemed so desperate to feel and be close to him. Her touches never ceased and it felt like she’s constantly pulling him back, holding him tightly so as to prolong whatever they had.

He leans his head forward, sticking his tongue out and prodding her a little. He tastes both of them, the taste a strange union of both of their juices. It tastes good. The heavy scent of her arousal overwhelms him and he feels his mind fall back into the gutter. His pants are starting to get uncomfortable again. But all this simply makes him all the more eager to dive right into eating her out and when he sees the hints of white liquid dripping out of her slit, he loses it entirely He’s right by her fold, merely inches away, when he hears the clearing of a throat behind him.

“Just what are the two of you doing in my kitchen?”

Touka…

Ayato glances behind, the voice killing any hints of arousal that was starting to surface in him. Touka stands at the entrance of the kitchen, dressed in a nightgown, with her arms crossed. Her hair’s in a mess and her eyes are still swollen from sleep, but she clearly is awake enough to kick his ass all the way to Hell and back.

“Sis?”

Hinami shrieks at the side, pushing him off and jumping off the counter. She stands awkwardly before Touka, forcefully trying to pull the t-shirt downwards. “T-Touka… I… This is…”

“Just one night and you two can’t keep your hands off each other,” Touka sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry…” Hinami murmurs. Ayato looks over at her. She looks completely miserable and Ayato wonders if she’s blaming herself. It was her idea after all. Of course, he wouldn’t blame her for it. It’s not like he had any self-control when he pushed her onto that counter.

“It’s fine,” Touka says, musing over her words a little. “Guess I should have let the two of you sleep in Ayato’s old room or something.”

“I…”

“Go to sleep, Hina,” Touka sighs, walking over and flicking her forehead a little. “There’s something I want to talk to Ayato about so I appreciate if we could have some privacy.”

“Of course… I’m… really sorry about all this,” she says in a soft voice. She glances around the kitchen and goes to pick off her pair of shorts, pulling them on hastily before she runs out of the kitchen. She didn’t say anything to him, leaving without even passing him a glance. She must be so embarrassed.

“Now as for you,” Touka sighs. He turns to her and sees her opening one of the drawers, pulling out a spray bottle and a cloth. She holds it out to him. “Please clean the countertop.”

“What?”

“This is the kitchen, Ayato. I’d rather you clean it after your little lovemaking session with your cute girlfriend over there,” Touka instructs. “It’s what Kaneki always does whenever we do it so don’t worry too much about it.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Ayato frowns, replaying his sister’s words in his mind. “Whenever you do it…?”

“Yes. Kaneki. My husband. And me,” she says, punctuating her words playfully. “What? You think we’ve never done it on the kitchen counter before?”

That is one image he clearly did not need in his mind. “Sis, I didn’t need to know that.”

“And I didn’t need to see my little brother’s head buried in the thighs of the girl who’s in love with my husband, but we don’t really get what we want, do we?”

“You knew?”

Touka furrows her brows. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I can tell when someone has a thing for my man and I can tell when someone’s sleeping with my brother. I pretty much figured her out from the very beginning.”

Ayato turns away from her, turning his attention to cleaning the countertop as she had instructed him to do. He feels her eyes on him and he knows she waiting for a response from him, an explanation in particular. But he doesn’t really know what to say, especially not since he himself has no idea what goes on in Hinami’s mind lately, especially not the past few hours.

“Ayato,” she says seriously and he gives her a brief glance before turning his attention back to wiping the counter. “You don’t have to wipe it that much-- god, look at me.”

He does, hands dropping to his sides as he turns his head. “What?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit and you know that,” Touka snapped. “Why are you letting her use you like that?”

“I’m not letting her use me--”

“She doesn’t love you, does she?”

“No but…” he pauses, hesitating as he wonders if he can even try to make Touka understand. Touka’s always been lucky when it comes to romance. She nailed the right guy from her first relationship and the only reason why she hadn’t had a relationship till then was because she wasn’t interested in anyone. The first time she found someone and she got him easily. Ayato can’t help but feel jealous. He’s had many girls fall for him and confess to him as well, but ever since high school, Hinami was truly the only one he wanted. “I… love her…”

“So?”

“So…?”

“I know you love her. It’s written all over your shitty face,” Touka sighs. “So you’re gonna let her use you like that? As some kind of replacement?”

“I’m not… a replacement… She sees me for who I am.”

“Then, a second choice. You fine with that?” Touka challenges.

No.

“It’s… not like that at all!” Ayato doesn’t even know why he bothers arguing. This is totally the case, he knows that as well as-- no, maybe even better-- than Touka does.

“She doesn’t like you, Ayato,” Touka sighs, “and I am pretty sure it’s not you who’s using her right now.”

“She does care about me…” he argues back weakly. “I mean, she came here. She was worried about me.”

“She thought you were going to kill yourself. How is that anything special?”

“How long were you out there--”

“That’s not the point. Answer my question right now. You know this isn’t healthy at all. I can tell from your face that it hurts you more than it helps so why are you doing it?” Touka cuts in. He remains silent, wondering just what he can say to get her to shut up. He doesn’t want to talk about it, simply because he knows that there’s no way he can justify himself to his sister. It’s easy pretending to himself that it’s all good even when he’s getting hurt, but what Touka has seen through everything, there’s nothing he can say that will get her off his case.

“Sis… I…” He tries to speak, but as he thought, he can’t bring himself to say anything.

“Were you lonely?” Touka asks slowly.

He feels his eyes go wide. “No, I wasn’t!”

“You were lonely, right? That’s it, isn’t it?” she challenges. His heart sinks. God, this sounds so pathetic. Touka furrows her brows and takes a step towards him. “You were alone after you left home and Hinami helped you ease that loneliness, didn’t she?”

“That’s… not it at all.” He tries to argue but Touka is unflinching.

She smirks up at him in response, crossing her arms. “That is totally it, isn’t it? You didn’t have anyone else after you left home so you just clung on to her, didn’t you?”

“That’s not it at all! I tried to end things but it just didn’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“She said… I don’t know, it seemed like she was giving me a chance,” he grumbles.

“Because you were lonely, you let her use you however you like but when it starts getting tiring, you tried to break it off, except just one or two words she said gave you false hope so you got too carried away. But did anything change?”

“She lets me kiss her…”

“She didn’t use to?”

“No.”

Touka blinks, her eyes wide in shock. “Unbelievable. I thought I don’t really recognize my brother anymore and you know what? I’m right. I really don’t recognize you at all,” she snaps. “Did anything else change aside from being more intimate or something?”

“There isn’t anything--”

“Have you ever been honest about yourself to Hinami? Does she know everything that happened before you guys got together? She seemed really shocked when she realised I’m your sister,” Touka points out. “You didn’t tell her that the person she’s actually in love with is your brother-in-law, did you?”

“No…”

“Does she know why you left home?”

“No.”

“Does she know what Kaneki did to you?”

“What? Why does she need to know--”

“While she’s sleeping with you, does she have a single idea what the person she’s in love with did to you?”

“It’s an accident--”

“I know it’s an accident, Ayato,” Touka cuts in again sternly. Of course she does. It’s why she probably can still stand both of them at the same time. It’s ridiculous that he even brought it up with her.

“Why does Hinami need to know all that?” he asks weakly. Touka eyes him with a raised eyebrow-- you know why. He lightly bites his bottom lip. She is right. He knows why. He’s not even maintaining a decent friendship with her by keeping everything to himself, especially not when she tells him everything about herself.

Hinami doesn’t know a single thing about him.

“When Hinami and I started sleeping together, it felt really nice,” he admits. “I had a crush on her for as long as I remember but when she did that for me back in high school, I think I fell in love. So when she came to me I agreed, even though she had all those restrictions. But after a while, it got tiring and really messy. She’d stop everything all of a sudden but show up again a short while later. I think she started feeling terrible about it as well. At some point, she found out Kaneki is married. After that, we were supposed to try something else. She said we’ll take it slow. That was about a year ago and we’ve made no progress.”

There’s barely any change in Touka’s expression as she listens to him. She remains silent, contemplating his words before she sighs. Touka reaches for him, resting her hands on his shoulders and rubbing him lightly. “You’re not alone anymore. We’re together now. You don’t have to do this anymore. End things with her.”

“But--”

“Listen to me,” Touka cuts in. “You’re tired too, aren’t you? It’s nice to be there for Hinami, but you need to look out for yourself too. Please Ayato, just listen to me for once and end this. It’s for your own good.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to react. He realises he’s not as quick to rebuke anymore and he finds himself going over her words. Maybe there’s some truth in what Touka is saying as well.

“I’ll think about it.”

Hinami is way too embarrassed to really fall asleep, but she wants to do it before Touka shows up. Touka had caught them in the kitchen. She had seen Hinami in such an embarrassing position. It must have been so awkward for Touka to see her own brother eating someone out like that and it’s all her fault. She should have stopped after they came, but somehow it hadn’t been enough. She just wants to feel him more and more; she can’t stop herself from reaching for him.

She’s never felt this way before. She’s right. Something had changed, but it felt so sudden that it feels insincere. Is she really like this just from the fear of losing him? Is she acting like that simply because she’s afraid he might leave her as well one day? It’s a thought that had never crossed her mind before. Ayato is supposed to always be there. He’s never supposed to be gone. He’s always there, even when she was fickle about their relationship. There’s no reason for him to leave her now, not when they’re more serious about their relationship, even if it is one she doesn’t have a name for.

She knows he’s waiting. She knows he wants to know what exactly it is that they have. He’s not her boyfriend, but he’s also a lot more than a simple friend with benefits. It isn’t just sex, it’s more. It’s not just lust, but does this mean it’s love then? Hinami turns to lie on her back with a cry of exasperation. Touka still hasn’t appeared. She wonders what the siblings are talking about outside. It clearly is taking some time. But it’s giving her some time to herself now, some time to think about what had happened and what keeps happening.

She hears footsteps outside and she turns to her side, back to the door. She listens, eyes closed, as the door opens and someone walks in before the door closes shut behind them. They’re silent as they walk over and climbs into bed, but they move closer to her and the moment she feels a fingertip brush against her arm, she knows that it’s not Touka’s hand.

She opens her eyes and turns to look. Ayato’s looking down at her, a blank expression on his face. “You’re awake.”

“Why are you here?” she murmurs softly. She sits up slightly, winding her arms around him. She still wants to touch him more. Their eyes are fixed on each other and Hinami feels warm. His expression is soft. In the darkness of the room with merely the dim moonlight from the window giving her enough light to see him, she doesn’t think he had ever looked more beautiful.

“Touka said we should sleep together instead,” he says. “I think she gave up keeping us apart.”

“We wouldn’t have done it in the kitchen if we were let to sleep in the same room,” she laughs softly. “What did the two of you talk about?”

He blinks and she swears she sees a flash of seriousness in his eyes. It is gone far too quickly, but she’s sure she saw it and she’s also sure that it was a scary expression.

“It’s nothing,” he says, his voice gruff.

“Really?”

“She asked me to clean the counter. That’s all.”

Oh, thank god. Hinami lets herself calm down. “Then… do you… want to continue where we let off?” she asks.

Ayato’s eyes go round. “What?”

“No… I…” She hesitates, flushing as she turns away. “You were in the middle of… you know…”

He glances down at her and she sees him nibble lightly on his lip before he turns to her again, brows furrowed. “Is there anything wrong? You’ve been very into it tonight.”

He noticed it as well apparently. She’d have been more embarrassed about it, but Ayato’s hand is reaching towards her shorts. He presses against her crotch lightly, massaging it softly. She closes her eyes and relaxes, choosing to focus on his fingers. But it’s just not enough. She wants more.

“Ayato… can you…”

“Can I what?” She opens her eyes, fully intending to fume at his teases, but when she does look at him, he doesn’t look like he was joking at all. He looked serious, at a lost and almost distracted, even. She blinks, slight worry surfacing in her again. Maybe he noticed that as well as his eyes widen slightly before he leans forward, pressing his lips to hers.

He kisses her gently, soft and chaste. There’s no hunger in this, just sweetness. He’s gentler than he was just now, but even then, it makes her giddy. A fleeting thought surfaces in her mind. Maybe it’s okay, even if it’s just this. She loves the feeling of his lips against hers. He tastes like the coffee from before. His lips are a little chapped, but still a little damp, maybe from the kisses just now.

Even when he’s limiting himself, she finds herself pushing through. She wants more. No matter how much she feels and touches him, it doesn’t feel enough at all. There’s something missing, something that she so desperately wants to experience with him. But what exactly is it she’s at a complete loss.

What is this feeling? She’s sure she’s felt it before, but she doesn’t think Ayato’s made her feel like that before.

He pushes her down onto the bed and crawls over her. He withdraws his hand from between her legs and Hinami doubts she’s ever felt this empty before. She wants him to continue touching her; she wants to feel him more. Even as she’s shifting her hips awkwardly, Ayato doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it. He flashes her a weak smile and brings a hand to her face, pushing her bangs out of her face and lightly stroking her cheek.

“I love you, Hinami,” he murmurs.

Love… She wonders if it really is love that she’s feeling. It’s different from how she had always felt around Kaneki. Watching Kaneki had always made her feel small, a shy timid girl who can only watch from afar with burning cheeks and delusional fantasies. But with Ayato, she’s bolder, braver. She feels a fire burning within her that is only quenched by his touch, a desperate, deeper, darker desire that pushes past boundaries she never noticed she had been respecting. The intensity of the feelings felt similar, but both in very different ways.

Love or not, no one has made her feel the same way as he does.

“I know…” she says, swallowing for force a lump down her throat. She sounds like a croaking frog. “I’m… blessed… that someone like you will ever fall for me. I’m really thankful. I don’t know how I can repay you.” She was rambling. That made no sense at all. The truth is, she didn’t know how to respond and she simply said the first thing that came to mind, only to regret it right as she spoke it. It sounds so ridiculous and dumb.

“Repay me? You know what I want,” he says slowly. “But it’s something I’m never going to get, right?”

He wants her. He’s always wanted her. No matter how he might try to pretend not to care, she knows it’s what his aching for so badly. Perhaps, it’s not as unachievable as he thinks.

“I…” She nibbles her lip, wondering what she should say. Ayato watches her and lets out a soft sigh, crawling off her and moving away to sit at the edge of the bed. Too far… She feels empty again.

“The truth is, Touka and I talked about something else as well,” he admits, right as she’s about to crawl over and wrap her arms around his shoulder, perhaps even removing his top and pressing a kiss to the distinct muscles of his back-- that would be nice… But she doesn’t move. She remains still, listening. “We argued about it for awhile, but now I think she’s right… I agree with her. This is what I should do.”

“What are you talking about?”

He’s silent again. This time, it’s longer. The silence drags on till it’s deafening. She crawls over to him now, pressing her body against his. Her arms wind around his waist, forehead resting between his shoulder blades. He still doesn’t respond for a while and Hinami feels her stomach knot up. She knows something’s wrong now, but she wonders if she should pry.

“Ayato?”

He shakes his head and starts to pull her hands apart, pushing her off him. He gets up, turning around to look down at her as she sits on the bed, staring at him in confusion.

“Ayato? What’s going on? You’re scaring me a little.”

His eyes are hard and emotionless-- dead. She recognizes this look really quickly. It’s the look he has when he was on his knees in the store. It’s the look he had in the shower before she promised they could start over. It’s the look he had in the alley after they fought. It’s the eyes of a dead man, but a kind that’s different from earlier that night. This one isn’t regretting anything; this one is just exhausted.

Something is wrong.

“Ayato! What is it?”

He presses his lips into a thin smile and laughs a dry, flat laugh. “Let’s end this.”

“End what?”

“All of this. Whatever we are. This weird relationship, the sleeping together-- all of it.”

She’d be upset if she isn’t too confused right at this moment. Hinami furrows her brows, reaching for him, only for him to take a few steps back. Her mind tries to piece everything together. He’s pushing her away, avoiding her. He’s trying to end their relationship. He wants to end everything.

Oh.

“You’re breaking up with me?” she asks dumbly. She almost can’t believe this. Ayato loves her, doesn’t he? Why would he do this? It has to be some kind of joke.

He starts laughing initially and Hinami sighs in relief. It really does seem like a joke. He must have been messing with her and he was successful. Her heart is beating so fast and her breath had gotten caught in her throat. She can’t even envision a break-up; she doesn’t want to. But as his laugh fades off, so does her relief. His amusement morphs into a sinister smirk as he shakes his head, like a villain looking down on his unsuspecting victim. There’s something so dark and horrid in the look that Hinami wonder if this really is Ayato.

“God, Hina,” he scoffs, his tone mocking yet flat. “How can we break up when we never had anything going on in the first place?”

He’s serious. He’s dead serious. Hinami can’t find the words to respond at all. This is different from all their previous breaks. Those were her own fickle whims and fancies which he had followed and tolerated. But Ayato is more serious than she can ever hope to be; his eyes aren’t lying to her at all. She’s left to watch helplessly as he leaves the room, saying something about sleeping in the living room. She doesn’t know what exactly he’s saying. She can barely hear or understand him.

He wants to leave her. He wants to end things.

She’s going to lose him.

She wishes he had given some explanation. Maybe she should run after him and argue back, or at least say something. But she doesn’t find the strength in her to go after him. All she does is sit there and stare at the door out of which he had just left, with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company.

He doesn’t want me anymore.

A/N: Not that heavy a chapter, just making up for all the missing smut scenes. It’s been a while, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! 

Everyone who’s written Ayahina before would know how hard it is to go beyond a 100 notes, but Shattered has managed to reached 200 notes!!! It’s a really big thing for me. Even back when Ayahina was much bigger, I think the notes tended to hit around 100+ so really, this means SO MUCH to me. Thank you everyone. We’ve had a wild ride with this fic, with the haters and everything so I’m very happy to see this. I still get hate and I still struggle with writing and posting but I’m trying to get over it and not let it bother me anymore. Let’s hope I manage to get Chapter 8 out soon! 

Once again, please please do reblog if you like this! It’ll really help me out. Feel free to leave comments in the tags/ reblogs/ replies or through asks!

[sunaddicted]

It’s 3 am so, happy Nygmobblepot Week? I’m putting just an excerpt under the cut because this is a 8k long monster lol

“I’ve heard you’re looking for me”

Crash .

Oswald turned around on his heels to briefly glare at the man who had let himself in his office without any kind of warning, hand slowly clenching closed around the emptiness where once a rather expensive glass of wine had been - red wine that was slowly seeping into the carpet and irreparably staining it “How many times did I tell you not to do that?”

Edward rolled his eyes at the hissed question and sprawled on one of the visitors chairs, grimacing at the way his long limbs were forced into an uncomfortable position; he didn’t know it for sure, but Edward suspected that the Penguin had intentionally furnished his office with the most beautiful and cramped chairs he could find in order to cut his meetings short “So jumpy" 

“I’m not jumpy!” 

Edward just arched an eyebrow in response. 

Oswald huffed and raked one hand through his hair in a rather uncharacteristic nervous gesture “Alright, maybe I am a little jumpy”

“And I assume the reason why also has to do with the fact that you’ve had your men combing my hideouts for days" Edward’s eyes narrowed “I dislike being chased all around the city” he reminded the other man, voice low and threatening: they might have agreed on a truce once they had both realised that neither of them truly wanted to kill the other, but that didn’t make them friends - the Penguin was going to pay for any service he requested, like any other criminal in town

And the Riddler was everything but cheap - quite the opposite, in fact.  

“I need a favour”

“I gathered as much”

Oswald sighed heavily at the belligerent tone in Edward’s voice and sat down behind his desk, fingers briefly going to his temples in order to try and get rid of the painful tension he could slowly feel pooling there “Must you always be so obnoxious?” 

“Do you really want to antagonize the man you need a favour from?“ 

Damn, but Edward was right - as always, much to Oswald’s chagrin: if there was something he loathed, it was being wrong and having his face rubbed in it. He retrieved a thick envelope from the tower of paperwork, balanced on the corner of his desk, and tossed it at Edward so that the other man could have a look at its contents; he was sure that once Edward read the documents in it, he wouldn’t have much explaining left to do.

Oswald still couldn’t believe that someone had had the guts to actually pull his records and had the brilliant idea of sending him a deportation order.  

To the goddamned kingpin of Gotham’s underworld.

To the Penguin.

“I knew your mother was an immigrant, but I thought you were born here” Edward hummed, putting the papers down so that he could focus on Oswald “I fail to understand why this has you so shaken: you’re a criminal, resisting deportation can hardly make your record look worse than it already is"

It was times like those that Oswald wondered how it was possible for someone as clever as Edward, who took every chance he could to remind everyone about how smart he was, could also be such an obtuse person; it was a question that tormented him, especially when he had had a little too much to drink and there wasn’t enough work for him to focus on and keep the morose thoughts at bay.  Oswald took a deep breath and laced his fingers together to keep them in check in case the temptation to hit Edward overcame him: it wasn’t such a rare impulse for him to feel around the other and his mother had taught him that prevention was better than the cure “In case you have forgotten, I have plenty of legal businesses too”

Edward shrugged “Well, you’ve been balancing on the edge of the knife long enough: time to come and live in the dark like the rest of us"

Oswald gritted his teeth: God, but Edward made it so hard sometimes “My unique ability to operate in the grey zone between law and crime is the reason why you and the rest of the Rogues have plenty of benefits, such as actually qualified doctors and lawyers who don’t turn on you just because of who you are"

And that wasn’t something Edward could call out as a lie, considering that just the week before he had had a very good surgeon extract a bullet from his calf and had even stitched him up rather decently - not that he particularly cared about scars, but still “Do you want me to forge you papers, then?” Oswald certainly had people in his employ who were better qualified for the job, but maybe he was just trying to keep the situation under wraps - typical Penguin behaviour.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

Well, yes. But Oswald had money: how much would it cost to buy a couple of immigration officials “I must admit that I’m out of ideas” Edward answered with a grimace, disliking even the thought of having to admit that he couldn’t see the solution to a puzzle: was he really growing that slow and old? He had never liked not having answers but since his brief stint as a stupid person, almost a decade prior when he had been freed from the prison of ice Oswald had put him into, Edward had become even more sensitive and easily irritable whenever his brain stuttered - especially when just simple reasoning was required: after all, Oswald must already have had a proposal if he had called him there.

Why couldn’t he see the answer too?

“Marry me"

Edward blinked slowly as the two words sank in his brain “Marry you?”

“You’re American, aren’t you?” Oswald snapped “I don’t like this idea better than you do but after I get American citizenship through our marriage, we’ll divorce as soon as it stops being suspicious”

“Why me?” Edward raised a finger to briefly stop Oswald from answering “I mean, despite our truce, everyone knows we’re enemies: I tried to kill you countless times, you froze me and put me on display in the middle of your club - nobody would fall for the charade” there, he had found a fallacy in Oswald’s plan.

Crisis averted.  

“Nobody else knows me like you do, Edward - and these people ask loads of questions” Oswald pointed out “And we have history: for us to shack up and tie the knot wouldn’t be too weird, especially considered Gotham’s standards” stranger things had happened: the Penguin and the Riddler getting married after a decade of enmity wouldn’t even make the top ten “Look, I’d love to ask anyone else but I can’t afford this going wrong, Edward - for my sake and for yours too" there was a reason why the Rogues had stopped challenging his position of power and it was that having the Penguin on the throne was more convenient for everyone involved.  

Edward grimaced as he tried to keep his breathing under control: Oswald had just put him in a rather difficult position and his choice could possibly endanger those few friends he had; the Rogues were the closest thing he had ever had to a family and the man in front of him knew that and he had no qualms about using that piece of knowledge against him.  Edward had never had the pleasure of playing chess against Oswald but if the other man was as ruthless on the board as he was when it came to moving people around and manipulating them into doing his bidding, Edward wasn’t so sure he would win “It still is quite the risky plan" he observed, biding for time “Can we pull such a thing off?”

Part of Oswald - a rather bitter one, admittedly - wanted to remind Edward that he had no problems lying through his teeth without Oswald suspecting a thing, while the other man was planning his downfall. Instead, Oswald took a deep breath - he felt like he had been going that a lot lately - and squared his shoulders “We’re both known for our cunning: we can persuade some government official that our marriage is genuine" 

Plus, if he had to be honest, Oswald had already gathered the necessary paperwork and started filling it in: he had long given up on ever finding someone who would love him enough to stay by his side for the rest of their lives; if he had to enter the sham of a marriage to avoid being kicked out of his home, he wanted the other person to be someone he respected at least.

The fact that his heart still ached for Edward even after all those years and the ugly words between them, well… it was a problem that Oswald had been dealing with for the last decade: how much worse than that could it get?

Edward’s silence had started to grow a little too long for Oswald’s tastes and his stomach felt heavy, as if his guts had tangled themselves into a knot that nothing short of a well-sharpened knife could undo: was Edward really so repulsed by the thought of being his husband for a set amount of time, that he would endanger his friends’ lives?

It hurt, but Oswald was used to soldering through pain “I know it’s a lot to ask for” he started, lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over the best words to use to reach the other man and establish a connection with him; once upon a time, it had been so easy - they had been able to talk to one another with just their eyes, their bond so strong that Oswald believed it would last through the hardest and most testing situations.

How wrong he had been.  

How foolish.  

How hopelessly in love.  

Oswald swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to dislodge it so that he wouldn’t sound too choked up when he started speaking again; it didn’t help - if anything, his esophagus felt even more closed up than before - and Oswald rubbed the skin over his upper lip in an attempt at appearing like he was busy thinking, rather than suffocating on air.   

“I’ll do it”

And just like that, the lump dissolved “Thank you.  Of course, I’ll reward you handsomely: whatever you ask, it’s yours”

“I’ll hold you to that”

 Oswald nodded “I expect nothing less: I’m not a charity case, this is a business transaction” 

Put it like that, it sounded better than thinking about the whole ordeal in more practical terms. Edward slumped against the back of the chair, one hand hovering over his lips as if to hold a scream in: they were getting married “I’ll have a glass of what you’re having” he murmured when Oswald shuffled away from the desk.

God, they were getting married. 

(Continues on ao3)

[honeyedhoseok]

besitos| ta!jimin 02

genre: fluff/slightly smutty

word count: 8k

summary: Switching to a new major is always nerve-wracking, but having a totally hot TA to look at for the rest of the semester sure does ease the pain…

|01|

As the semester trudged on, you were soon thrown into the whirlwind that was midterms, but you didn’t suffer nearly as much as you thought you would due to your newfound distraction: Jimin.

 For weeks on end, your phone was a constant flurry of text messages back and forth about anything and everything. You talked periodically throughout the day whenever one of you had a break or a spare moment, and surprisingly, the conversation never turned dull. Thought you wished you could hear his voice more often than you did, Jimin did a good job of texting exactly as he would talk—pauses, hesitation, and all.

Your roommates noticed your distractions, of course, and you blamed it most of the time on a study group chat for psychology—which technically wasn’t a lie because you did have one of those. But you could tell they were getting fed up with that excuse because of the increasing amount of groans whenever your phone went off, so you started keeping it on silent to avoid that altogether.

Other than Jimin himself, Taehyung was the only one to know about your secret romance, so he quickly became your confidant and advice-giver all in one. It also helped that he was just as eager to hear about it as you were to tell him.

“Soooo….” he said one day after class, giving you a pointed look and a quirky smile. “How are things?”

You sighed. “Taehyung you asked me this on Tuesday. Everything is fine.”

 “But fine doesn’t mean anything, Y/N!” he whined, plopping into his desk chair.  The room was completely cleared out except for you two—it was a common occurrence for you to stay after class and chat with Taehyung nowadays—so your things were still splayed out on the table around you. “I need details! Details are important—don’t you remember me writing that on your last assignment?”

You gave him a deadly look, but he continued grinning at you. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Are you asking me because you want to know? Or because Jimin does?”

He gave you his signature sly smile, his normally animated expression turning fox-like in nature in a matter of seconds. “Oh, Y/N. What kind of wingman would I be if I told you that?”

You sighed rolling your eyes. “Fine. Things are…slow.”

“Slow?” his eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “What do you mean? I thought that was what you wanted?”

“It was, at first,” you admitted. “But now it seems almost like…we’re sort of—“

“—friends with no benefits?” Taehyung finished for you, a mocking smile playing around the edge of his lips.

You shrugged, “Sure, but that’s not exactly the word choice I would have used.”

“That’s because you always beat around the bush,” Taehyung beamed, patting your hand. “But that’s okay, that’s what I’m here for, Y/N! Say no more.”

“Wait, wait, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna tell Jimin to step it up. You guys need some alone time, obviously. When’s the last time you hung out?”

You looked away sheepishly, suddenly finding extreme interest in your cuticles. You heard the smack of Taehyung’s mouth as it dropped open in shock.

“You’re telling me that you guys haven’t hung out since that night? Y/N, this is unacceptable—“

“I’ve been busy with mid-terms!” you exclaimed. “And Jimin is a teacher, Taehyung. He has a schedule as well.” You paused. “Did I mention he’s a teacher? Where are we supposed to see each other?”

“You guys are fucking amateurs,” Taehyung muttered sourly, his eyes diminishing into slits. “Jimin has an apartment. Off-campus. By himself. Is this rocket science for you two? Jesus.”

 Taehyung slid back in his chair, standing up and grabbing his stuff. “Follow me.”

You scrambled to gather your things and shove them in your bookbag, flittering after Taehyung into the hallway and towards Jimin’s cracked door. “Taehyung—“ you warned, but he was already knocking, poking his head around the frame.

“You busy, Park? I just wanted to talk for a few minutes.”

“Nah, I’m free, what’s up?”

You slowly walked into the classroom behind Taehyung, watching as Jimin’s face lit up once he saw you. “Y/N,” he said, grinning. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?”

He was as stylish as ever, sitting behind his desk in a loose-fitting striped sweater, his hair split effortlessly down the middle, strands falling aimlessly on the smooth expanse of his forehead. His plump lips pulled back over his teeth as he gave you a splitting grin, eyes crinkling in the corners and shining with all the light of the stars in the sky. Why did you go so long without seeing such a masterpiece of a face, of a smile? Or better yet, how?

“Let’s do dinner this week. Your place. Me, you, Y/N, and Jenny. Kind of like a double date,” he whispered the last part, making sure to flash you an encouraging smile. “What do you say?”

Jimin was already nodding eagerly, “Sounds amazing. Tomorrow night, around 7?”

“Yep, and Y/N can get there early to make sure you have some help so dinner will be on time. Right, Y/N?” Taehyung nudged you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded slowly, and you could have sworn you saw Jimin swallow harshly at the proposition. “Great! See you guys then!”

Taehyung walked out of the classroom, throwing up a peace sign to the both of you as a goodbye, his work obviously done. Jimin chuckled, standing up from his seat. “Are you okay with dinner? I know Taehyung tends to make plans and just assumes everyone is okay with them with checking first…”

“Dinner sounds great,” you grinned. You were just happy to finally have plans with Jimin after a long absence. Hearing him talk now was making you realize how much you missed his voice. “What should we cook? I can pick up some groceries before I head over.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jimin said quickly, shaking his head. “You just bring yourself and a pair of hands that can use a knife.”

You nodded once. “Got it. So, I’ll see you around five thirty?”

Jimin looked like he wanted to come from behind the desk, but he stopped himself, choosing instead to keep his hands busy with picking a pen out of the holder by his hip, clicking it nonchalantly. “Yeah…see you then, Y/N.”

You were feeling the same way, itching to bring Jimin close, to smell all the delicious scents that wafted off his clothes, to diminish the distance between your lips that had been apart for far too long. But you also knew this was his classroom, and with the door open it was much too easy to see inside, so you hitched your book bag into a comfortable spot on your back, throwing Jimin one last small smile before leaving.

“I’m going out tonight with some people from my Psychology class for dinner. I don’t know how long I’ll be out because it’ll probably turn into a drinking thing, so don’t wait up for me.”

You were sitting at the counter, a chocolate chip bagel pinched between your fingers as you told Sana and Jihyo about your plans for Friday. Sana raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, pausing in spreading honey butter on her own bagel to point the end of the butter knife at you. “You’re ditching us for psych nerds?”

You rolled your eyes. “Technically, I’m a psych nerd since it’s my major. Why do you always forget that? And we didn’t have plans anyway!”

Jihyo sidled up to Sana, taking the knife out of her hand to butter her own bagel. “Are you mad at us or something? You’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“Yeah, if it’s something we did you can tell us, Y/N,” Sana added.

You suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over you. You’d been lying to Sana and Jihyo for weeks about Jimin—and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you couldn’t trust them because they surely wouldn’t tell anyone when it was about something as serious as Jimin’s job. But once you lied to them the first time, they just kept coming, bundling together and getting bigger and bigger like a snowball effect; there was no stopping a roll once it got going.

“It’s nothing, honestly. I just really want to make a good grade in this class, is all.” There it was, another lie rolling effortlessly off your tongue. You could give two shits about psychology at this point because you were positive you’d be switching majors at the end of the semester due to how well you were doing in Taehyung’s class. “You guys know I’m trying to pull my GPA up.”

Sana nodded, lowering her butter knife as she steered the conversation in another direction, and you let out a long breath of air through your nose in relief. No wonder you didn’t lie much—it was exhausting.

The rest of the day went by extremely slow for you, making you look countless times at the clock. You spent the afternoon with Sana and Jihyo in the living room watching a movie, waiting with a growing knot in your stomach for the right time to slip off to your room and get dressed for dinner. Thankfully, the movie ended at the perfect time, and while they were in the kitchen grabbing another snack you removed yourself, quickly taking off your comfortable clothes and throwing on jeans, a nice shirt and a thick jacket.

You exited the apartment after saying goodbye, pulling out your phone once you were outside to find the address Jimin had sent you earlier in the day. It was only a twelve-minute walk from your apartment so you decided to do that instead of driving, and set out in the direction the GPS was telling you.

Jimin lived in a relatively nice apartment for it to be so close to campus—normally the apartments looked nice on the outside but the residents would tell you the opposite of the inside—and you could tell this wasn’t the case as you clicked a button on the sleek outside panel, waiting as it buzzed to Jimin’s apartment. None of the students around campus had an intercom system, nor did they have anything like the updated exterior that you took in as you waited for Jimin to answer.

“Yes? Who’s there?” he chirped, sounding somewhat giddy through the speaker.

“It’s me, can you let me in?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before his voice sounded through the speaker again. “How do I know it’s really you? You might be a Y/N-impersonator.”

“Jimin!” you groaned. “Just let me in.”

He laughed a delicate, tinkling laugh that made your mouth twitch with the threat of a smile. Jimin was in an unusually good mood, and it made you wonder what the cause of such a joking manner could be coming from.

“Tell me something only Y/N would know.”

You rolled your eyes, wracking your brain quickly for a response. “Um…your favorite pair of shoes are your black combat boots.”

“Too easy,” came his quick reply.

“Okay, fine,” you thought again, “The first time we hung out…you told me about civil twilight.”

“And?” he quipped.

“And…you said it was fucked up for you to like me, and then…you kissed me,” you said shyly, looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was witnessing the conversation that was unfolding between the two of you through an apartment intercom.

“Correction,” Jimin said, and you could see him holding up a finger in a teacher-like manner. “I said I was waiting for you to tell me you like me like I liked you, and that that in itself was fucked up. But anyways, what about the kiss?”

“What about it?” you said immediately, and you knew you’d spoken too soon when Jimin clicked his tongue condescendingly.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. If you don’t think these lips are the center of the universe, the sole reason for your existence, if they aren’t flower petals gracing your lips when I kiss you, similar to that poem you wrote for class—“

“Jimin, for Christ’s sake, just let me in!” you insisted, raising your voice to cut him off. He laughed again childishly, obviously enjoying his little game way too much. Finally, there was a loud buzzing, and you were let into the apartment stairwell to begin climbing up to the third floor where Jimin’s apartment was. You let yourself in, the door already unlocked, peeling off your coat and kicking your shoes off at the entrance, treading on the soft carpet of the hallway into the tiled flooring of the kitchen. Jimin stood poised by his intercom, arms crossed over his chest and a sly smile playing around the edge of his lips.

You swung your purse strap over your head, slinging it onto a barstool before walking over to him. His eyes followed you, grazing over you from head to toe until you were standing in front of him, now half-lidded as he looked down his nose at you.

Just being in such close proximity, completely alone, for the first time since you two had met had your stomach doing backflips, your palms sweaty and itching to snatch Jimin’s face down to yours. You swallowed harshly, looking up into the dark chocolate orbs that were watching your every move, almost predator-like.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jimin murmured, unfolding his arms to snake an arm around your waist and bring you closer. Electricity skittered across your skin underneath your shirt as his hand pressed to your lower back, sending a delicious tingle up your spine. You hummed a small noise of content at the warmth, burying your face in the crook of Jimin’s neck for a few moments and breathing in deeply. You stayed like that until you remembered your recent conversation over the intercom.

“What was all that talk about kissing just a few moments ago?” you teased, pulling back to look at him. You licked your lips suggestively, watching Jimin’s eyes dart down to your mouth. “I think you said you owed me a few…or something like that?”

“Owing you a few?” Jimin shrugged, his gaze drifting back upwards to your eyes. “I don’t remember that part.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play with me, boy.”

Jimin grinned down at you but his eyes darkened, making you cautious of his next move as he dipped his head down, trailing his way up your jawline with his nose, each breath he took sending a cool wave of air over your neck and collarbones. In seconds he had you completely under his spell, your weak hands coming to rest on his chest as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you completely against his body.

“I invited you into my humble abode,” he began, his breath ghosting over the hollow beneath your ear, “And the first thing you bring up is a supposed debt?” He tsked, tucking your hair so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Do you really think that’s how this works, Y/N?”

“Technically, Taehyung invited me over,” you responded cheekily. You gasped embarrassingly loud at the sharp feeling of Jimin’s canines grazing over the juncture between your neck and shoulder in warning. He chuckled at your response, obviously enjoying every second of his torment.

“Ah, yes. Speaking of Taehyung—“ his hands moved up from your lower back until they were at your middle, Jimin’s thumbs hooking into the space right below your ribcage, his fingers splayed out on your sides. “He said something to me before you got here…”

“And what would that be?”

He rubbed his nose against yours, his eyes closing briefly before opening to look down at you with a mischievous glint. You could have sworn you saw his pupils dilate as your eyes met. “Something about—oh, I don’t know—things being…slow? Between us?”

“Oh,” you reddened, unsure of what to say.

“Oh?” Jimin repeated, taking a hand off your waist to tilt your chin up so that he could fully gauge your reaction. “If I remember correctly, that’s what you wanted. Isn’t that right?”

“At first…and then we didn’t see each other for a long time and, well, I don’t know…”

“Hmmm,” Jimin mused. “I see.”

“Taehyung is so unfair,” you murmured, pouting. “He’s always telling on me.”

“He’s my best friend and wingman first, your confidant second. Remember that,” Jimin laughed quietly before turning serious again. “So, how would you like your repayment?”

“Repayment?” you repeated curiously, though your stomach flip-flopped anyways at the word.

“For making you wait so long that you changed your mind about wanting things to be slow,” Jimin said, his gaze flickering down to your mouth again. “All at once or spread out?”

“Both,” you replied quickly.

Jimin grinned, “Greedy!” You licked your lips anxiously as one of his hands kept its place on your side, burning warmth through your shirt straight to your stomach, while the other snaked into your hair. “But I like it.”

Just like the first time, your brain fogged over as Jimin’s lips found yours, like flipping a switch on your hormones that allowed them to do all your thinking. These kisses were hard and needy, the opposite of what you were used to with Jimin. His mouth moved fluidly against yours, plump lips completely dominating the conversation your mouths were having while his hand curled in your hair, fingertips lightly grazing against your scalp. You whimpered a little at the feeling and in return Jimin growled deep in his throat, using the opportunity of your slightly parted mouth to delve his tongue in, poking tentatively at yours until you responded.

 Your hands balled into fists on his shirt, yanking him closer to you in any way you could, not wanting to separate your mouths for even a moment. Jimin’s mouth was somewhat bitter--probably from his tendency to drink coffee at all times of the day--but the taste to you was heavenly as his tongue laved over your own, fingers drawing patterns into your sides and back.

 While Jimin distracted you with his mouth, he was slowly backing you out of the kitchen and towards the L-shaped couch that was positioned in front of the TV in his living room. Your knees hit the side and Jimin released his hold on you, pushing you slightly so that you fell onto your back on the cushions. A wave of Jimin’s cologne hit your nostrils, wafting up from the couch, and then an even bigger wave hit you as he climbed on top of you, pressing his body into yours once more before you could react to being dropped onto the soft surface. You could feel his hardened member pressing into your hip bone as he laid down, his mouth darting for your neck, peppering kisses there. Your eyes closed immediately, and your head tipped back in bliss, hands coming to rest in Jimin’s raven hair as he switched between nipping at your neck and sucking lightly on the areas.

 “Oh, god,” you groaned as he roamed his mouth over a particular spot that sent another harsh shiver down your spine, the hotness of your skin mixing with the incredible warmth of his mouth. “Jimin—”

You twitched underneath him involuntarily as he sucked harder based off of your reaction, accidently grinding your hips against the hardness protruding from Jimin’s jeans and coaxing a small moan out of him. The noise licked fire along your insides, sparking a warmth inside your stomach that made you never want Jimin to stop as he sucked and pecked his way towards your collarbones. But your brain got the better of you, a thought crossing your mind that had you ruining the moment.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, closing your eyes as Jimin nudged his way across your chest with kisses. “What about cooking dinner?”

“Taehyung’s coming over,” he nipped at your shoulder playfully, making you jump at the tingle that skittered across your skin. “He’s bringing takeout from the Italian place down the street.”

You straightened up a little, bumping your collarbone into Jimin’s teeth and making him cringe. He pouted at you while you talked. “So...why did I come over so early?”

 Jimin shrugged, his pout shifting into a shit-eating grin. “I told you, Taehyung’s my wingman. He may seem like a mindless puppy, but he’s actually a pretty smart guy.”

 “Hm,” you murmured, nodding your head slowly. “Wow, he really is…”

 Jimin groaned suddenly, grabbing your face with both hands to squish your cheeks together, pouting your lips manually so that he could press small kisses to them over and over. “I—can’t—stop—doing—this—”

 “Can’t or won’t?” you murmured, giggling as he continued to assault your face with his lips. The steamy moment from before quickly shifted to less intimate conversation and then right back as he pressed his body against yours again so that you were laying down on the couch, his arms barricading you from moving as he leaned his face close.

 “What are you doing to me, huh?”

“I don’t know. But I kinda like it...maybe I should do more of it. Whatever it is.”

 “Mmm,” Jimin mused, a grin dusting his features as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re dangerous.”

 “Dangerous?” you asked. “How so?”

 “I just—” he murmured, pausing to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of his lower lip. His eyes darkened just slightly as he rolled his hips into yours in a small, controlled movement. He didn’t even have to say anything—the flames licking at your belly and traveling down to your wet center told you everything he couldn’t manage—you felt it too.

You licked your lips, swallowing to coat your suddenly-dry throat as you fought to speak, Jimin’s half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “Oh...well, maybe, I could help you, with that—”

 You were cut off by a loud buzzing sounding throughout the apartment, making Jimin frown and sigh above you. “Interrupted right at the good part, huh? Taehyung’s not as much of a wing-man as he thought he was.” He pushed himself off of you, offering you a hand and pulling you off the couch before he walked over to the intercom. You watched him subtly adjust the tent protruding from the front of his pants as he talked and it made you giggle. “Yeah?”

Taehyung’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear: “Open up, ugly.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” Jimin rolled his eyes, pushing the button to unlock the door downstairs. You were distributing plates at the circular table in Jimin’s kitchen when Taehyung walked in, a giant brown bag settled into his hands and a petite girl following behind him.

 “They took forever, dude. How long does it take to make fucking spaghetti? It’s noodles, sauce and cheese, not rocket science,” he complained, looking over at you. “Sup, Y/N.”

 You grinned a hello as he stepped aside, motioning to the girl that was putting bottles of wine into Jimin’s freezer. “This is Jenny. Jenny, Y/N.”

 “Hey,” she said, waving as she shut the door to the fridge. She looked at you through rounded spectacles, her bangs just brushing the top of them. She looked like the book-ish type, and you wondered if Taehyung met her while he was in college. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You frowned. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh of course,” she nodded enthusiastically, a smile playing around the edges of her mouth. “You’re the student Jimin seduced, right?”

“Hey, I did not seduce her!” Jimin protested, holding up a hand. “Y/N seduced me, I’m the victim here!”

“Yeah right,” you muttered, cutting your eyes at him as your face heated in embarrassment. “Victim, my ass.”

 “Hey, it doesn’t matter who seduced who to me,” Taehyung said, settling into his chair at the table. He tucked his napkin into the collar of his shirt dramatically. “What does matter, however, is how much pasta I can eat until I pass out on Jimin’s sofa with a food baby—and I intend to find out tonight. Let’s eat!”

“I really don’t feel like it should be considered a great piece of fiction from our time,” Taehyung argued, sticking a breadstick in his mouth and biting the end off, crumbs flying everywhere as he spoke. “She wrote fucking Harry Potter fanfiction before writing Fifty Shades.”

“So? She had to get a start somewhere, Tae,” Jimin countered. “Who cares what or where that was. Try telling her she’s not a real fiction writer and she’ll slap you in the face with her millions and her movie deals.”

You and Jenny glanced at each other over the table, exchanging bored looks. Taehyung and Jimin had been debating modern fiction for the past twenty minutes. Every time either of you tried to steer the conversation in a different direction they somehow circled it back around to whether erotic novels could be considered “good” fiction.

“That’s because it became a craze!” Taehyung turned the bitten end of his breadstick to Jimin, jabbing the air with it emphasize his point. “Smut doesn’t equal quality writing. Show me a plot, some dialogue, some character development, a story arc. Then I’ll be impressed and maybe consider it a piece of fiction, at the least.”

“May I add a comment to this discussion, as a budding creative writing major?” you asked, raising your eyebrows hopefully.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

You slumped back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat. Jenny chose that time to slide back in hers, excusing herself from the table. “Alright, I’m going to go crack open a wine bottle now since you two dweebs don’t want to talk to us. Y/N, you coming?”

“Yes!” you quickly got up, following Jenny back into the kitchen as Jimin and Taehyung’s argument died out in the background. She grabbed two glasses, sitting one down in front of you and filling it with the cool, golden liquid from the wine bottle.

 “Riesling is the best, isn’t?” she hummed, taking an appreciative sip from her own glass. “Sorry about those two, by the way. They do this all the time.”

 “Really?” you asked, wide-eyed. “Wow, that would drive me fucking insane.”

 She shrugged, shooting you a teasing smile. “You better get used to it. You know, being Jimin’s girl and all.”

 You smiled shyly, your gaze drifting down the countertop. Jimin’s girl. It had a nice ring to it. But a part of you still felt weird knowing that you were a college student, still taking intro classes in your major,  hanging out with a bunch of graduate students who had full time jobs.

 “About that…” you started, and Jenny raised her eyebrows as you took a nervous sip from your glass. “So, since Jimin is a TA...us being together…its--”

 “--it’s difficult, yes,” Jenny nodded. “And certainly not recommended.” Your heart dropped at the reality of her words, a sinking feeling settling into your chest. “But...Jimin is taking extra precautions with your relationship so that everything goes smoothly. Don’t worry, okay? As soon as you’re out of the intro class, you’re allowed to do whatever--well, kind of. Just keep a low profile for a while and everything will be fine.”

 You gave her a grateful smile as she tipped back the rest of her glass. “What do your friends think?”

 You cleared your throat awkwardly, speaking in a small voice, “I...haven’t told them.”

 “Why not?” she cocked an perfectly sculpted eyebrow above her round spectacles. “You don’t trust them?”

 “No, it’s not that,” you shook your head. You trusted Sana and Jihyo with everything, and had for a long time. “It’s more like since I’ve kept it from them this long...why tell them now?”

 Jenny hummed in thought, pouring more wine into both of your glasses before settling onto a bar stool with hers in hand, swirling the golden contents around absentmindedly. “Well, I guess I see your point. But it’s also nice to have someone to talk to about stuff...girls need to vent, right? If you ever need someone to talk to until you decided to tell them, you can definitely come to me.”

 Taehyung and Jimin filed into the kitchen then, Taehyung quickly plucking Jenny’s glass out of her hand and taking a sip. “Come to you about what?”

 “Nothing,” she frowned, reaching for it only for Taehyung to stretch his hand out further away from himself. “Give that back.”

 “Why can’t I have some?” Taehyung pouted cutely. “You bought three bottles!”

“Two for me and one for Y/N!” she giggled, slapping him on the chest. “Who’s gonna drive us home if you drink?”

“Let’s just stay here. Jimin has a spare bedroom--”

 Before Taehyung could finish the sentence, Jimin was already shaking his head in disagreement. “That’s my office.”

 “It has a futon in it.”

 “Yeah, in case I get tired from grading papers!”

 Jimin was giving Taehyung a look that you couldn’t quite decipher, his stare strong enough to bore holes into the oblivious boy’s head. But Taehyung was too focused on the conversation at hand, completely ignoring the message Jimin was trying to sign to him from across the room.

 “What about Y/N?” Taehyung argued, pointing in your direction. “She’s drinking, are you gonna kick her out, too?”

 “I can walk home,” you held up your hands in defense. “It’s no big deal, really—”

 “No,” Jimin said quickly, giving you a pointed look. “You can stay here. I don’t have a problem with you, I just don’t want Taehyung here.” Jimin finished the statement by crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

 You watched as Taehyung narrowed his eyes and tipped back the rest of Jenny’s glass as she yelled out at him, quickly downing it before placing it back on the counter and burping loudly. “Too late, dick. I’m drinking and I’m staying.”

 “Idiot,” Jimin muttered, but moved from his place to grab some blankets out of the hall closet, heading towards his office to dress up the futon.

The rest of the night passed somewhat quickly. The four of you managed to finish the three single bottles along with half of one Taehyung found stashed in the back of Jimin’s refrigerator. You realized the more that Taehyung drank, the quieter and more broody he became, complaining about the horrible plot lines in the movies and how they could have spiced up the relationship of the two main characters more.

“How could they not kiss the whole movie but be in love?” Taehyung muttered, pausing to hiccup. “What if I did that to Jenny, and then she kissed me and I was fucking horrible with my mouth. That would change her whole perspective on me!”

“You are horrible with your mouth, Taehyung,” Jenny snapped, smacking him on the leg. “Now shut up and stop interrupting, there’s only a few minutes left!”

Taehyung turned his attention back to the screen, pouting slightly. He was only quiet for a few moments before he was spouting off another complaint, unable to keep his watery words behind the dam that was his closed lips, “And why are their houses always so nice? There’s no way she can afford that nice ass apartment on her desk job salary.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin groaned, throwing his head back on the couch cushion. He stood up, turning the lights on in the living room and pressing stop on the DVD player just as the last scene ended. “Alright, I’m going to bed, and so are you,” he pointed at his friend who was looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “Before I kill you.”

 Jimin helped you off the couch, keeping your hand interlocked with his as he made his way to the back bedroom, locking his door to make a show out of keeping Taehyung away. “That should do the trick,” he giggled drunkenly, falling back on his bed.

You stood awkwardly by the door, eyes zoning in on the way that Jimin’s shirt lifted a little as he fell, giving you a glimpse of the soft skin of his stomach as he laid on his back. The reality of the situation was closing in on you--you drank, and now you were going to have to stay at Jimin’s until tomorrow morning unless you wanted to pay for an Uber back to campus--and for some reason you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Obviously you would sleep with him, in his room, in his bed. Why didn’t you think of that before?

 Jimin lifted his head, peeking at you through one open eye. “You okay?” When you didn’t answer right away, he hopped up, holding up a finger. “Right, pajamas! Hold on a sec.”

He began rummaging through his bureau drawers until he conjured up a big white t-shirt, one that you were sure you’d seen him sport in class before. “Do you need pants?” he asked curiously, eyeing your legs. You flushed, shaking your head quickly and taking the shirt from him.

You walked into the bathroom joined to his bedroom, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt, bra and jeans. You pulled Jimin’s white tee over your head, taking a deep breath as the fabric caught on your nose before settling over your neck. It smelled just like him, clean and sweet and mostly certainly intoxicating.

Your heart beat a mile a minute in your chest as you walked out, noticing Jimin already changed and in bed, scrolling on his phone. He was shirtless, only sporting a pair of plain, grey sweatpants, the band of his briefs visible above the cotton material of his sleeping attire. The sight had you swallowing nervously as you drank in his appearance, moving from his already messy hair, to the toned muscles of his chest, to the pants that clung a little to his thighs. How was he not shy at all around you? You were a sweating, nervous mess and Jimin was acting as though he got shirtless in front of people all the time. But, maybe there were some things you didn’t know about him. The thought made you a little sick to the stomach, so you pushed it away just as quickly as it had come. Who were you to judge him when you only had on your underwear underneath his shirt?

 You crawled into bed beside Jimin, shoving your legs under the blanket and settling back against the fluffy pillows that rested against his headboard. He put his phone on the charger, clicked the chain to the bedside lamp and shrouded the room in darkness. The only light was from the moon outside, casting the room in a barely-lit teal glow.

“I’m sorry about Taehyung,” he murmured, turning on his side immediately so he could trace your outline in the shadows with his gaze. “Sometimes he thinks he’s helping when in reality he’s being the biggest cock block known to man.”

“Cock block?” you asked, a giggle lacing your words. Jimin just grinned and reached out to you, pulling you close. Your noses were almost touching now, each breath in and out a wave of air over your faces and a reminder of how little effort it would take to close the distance between your lips. “He’s doing that to you?”

 “Yeah,” he said, his voice low as his hands crept their way under the comforter and towards your sides, goose-flesh erupting in their wake as they slid along your lower back. “Somethin’ like that.”

You grinned again, enjoying the new warmth of Jimin’s body pressing against yours. “Tonight was fun though,” you offered, trying to make him feel better. “I’m glad we got to see each other outside of school for once.”

 “Mhm, me too.”

 “But do you and Taehyung always argue so much?” you giggled, and watched as Jimin’s face lit up in the darkness. “I thought you two had an unbreakable bond.”

“We do,” Jimin said, “It’s just that…I don’t know, he’s a little much. I can’t explain it. Even your best friends get on your nerves sometimes, you know?”

 “Yeah, I understand. My roommates are like that too, especially when they’re drinking. Although it’s some of my best memories with them, it’s also some of the worst.”

Jimin laughed quietly in agreement. Your mind drifted to the conversation you’d had earlier with Jenny at the mention of Sana and Jihyo. They were probably wondering where you were, and you were surprised that your cellphone on the nightstand wasn’t being blown up that very moment. They would understand about Jimin, why couldn’t you just tell them? Why were you so afraid?

Jimin, noticing you lost in thought, grabbed your hand that was resting under the blanket and pulled it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “What’s wrong?”

 You sighed. “It’s—nothing.”

 “You can tell me,” Jimin coaxed, pressing his lips to your knuckles this time. “Is it me? I can take you home if you’re uncomfortable.”

 “No!” you said quickly, and relished in the way Jimin’s once furrowed brow softened at your words. “It’s not that, it’s just—okay, this is gonna sound stupid but I haven’t told my roommates about us. And they’re my best friends and I tell them everything but…It’s just—this is just different. I don’t know. I’m scared.”

 Jimin was quiet for a few moments and he closed his eyes in thought. You almost assumed he’d drifted off to sleep when he murmured lowly, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Sorry?” You sat up in bed. The streetlamp outside of Jimin’s apartment clicked on, flooding his bedroom with warm orange light through his blinds, streaming in rays across his floor and bedspread. “Jimin, what are you sorry for?”

“For putting you in this situation,” he replied defeatedly, putting and arm over his face so you couldn’t look at his eyes anymore. “I’m overstepping my boundaries because I’m selfish, and I keep dragging you with me. I’m sorry.”

“Jimin…” you said, but he continued to lay there with his face covered. When you attempted to move his arm, he flexed, keeping it in place even as you wrapped your fingers around his forearm, tugging harder. “Jimin, it’s not like that. That’s not what I meant…hey, look at me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, Y/N, I’m mad at myself!”

Jimin attempted to roll over then and you moved quickly, swinging a leg over his torso to keep him from turning his back on you. He wriggled around, throwing you off balance and you struggled to push on his shoulders, forcing him down flat onto the mattress. “Come…here!”

He finally gave in and you squeezed your legs around his middle, pointing a finger at with a firm tone. “Stay. Still.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured sourly, but you could see the grin playing around the edges of his mouth. He was thoroughly enjoying your rough-housing, and you were just happy he wasn’t really upset.

You placed your hands on Jimin’s stomach, keeping yourself centered on his lap as you spoke. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head, looking up at you with curious eyes and his lips slightly parted. You tried not to focus on the plump flesh as you gathered your thoughts, choosing instead to look at the darkness of his irises boring into yours.

“When are you gonna stop beating yourself up for this, huh? You’re not in this alone. Okay? I’m in it with you,” you leaned down a little closer, starting to feel shy with the way the conversation was going, but you kept talking, “I’m not going anywhere, and there’s no need to feel guilty or sorry. I like you, Jimin.”

 The last part was said just barely above a whisper, but you hoped that your small voice didn’t stop you from conveying the emotions that were flowing from you suddenly. You didn’t want Jimin to feel bad, you didn’t want him to feel like he was burdening you or bringing you into a situation that you didn’t want to be in. You really liked him, and you didn’t know how else to show him—besides leaning down and connecting your lips with his in a soft kiss.

Jimin closed his eyes at the contact, leaving his hands behind his head at first and just letting you move your mouth against his softly. The kiss was warm and sweet and gentle and no tongue, and you let yourself get lost for a few moments just to feel the excited thrill you always got when you kissed him.

 Jimin moved his hands from behind his head as you shifted on his lap, placing your hands beside his head as his moved to your waist. He squeezed the flesh there lightly, sliding the t-shirt out of the way to rest his hot palms on your bare skin. You sighed at the contact and pulled back for a second to look at his expression—all blown-out pupils and swollen lips that were tilted slightly up—and realized you were mimicking him.

 “I like you too,” he said in a quiet voice, smiling as he moved his hands to your upper back to pull your mouth back to him.

Somewhere along the lines you mumbled Good against his lips, but you were too lost in the kneading of his hands and the sudden hardness between your legs to really focus. Jimin’s kisses were a little more feverish, the temperature between your bodies rising as your shirt slipped more and you found yourself pressed against his bare chest. The toned muscles rippled as he moved hand up your stomach and over your ribcage to cup your breast, squeezing it in his palm. You groaned a little as his thumb flicked over the hard bud, the soft pad of his finger teasing you and making your body heighten with desire.

You removed your mouth from Jimin’s, trailing a wet, hot trail down his jaw-line to the space beneath his ear, giving the spot a small lick to test the waters. Jimin grunted and his hips bucked beneath yours. You grinned, grazing your teeth over the spot. “Oh? What was that?” you teased.

“Y/N—” he fell short of words as you sucked on the spot a little. His hand tightened around your breast while his other squeezed your hip, his hardened member now straining against the material of his sweatpants and digging into your thigh.

You placed wet, open-mouthed kisses against the skin of his neck, enjoying all the breathy noises that he was releasing until he’d had enough. Jimin took one hand and gripped your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he roughly stuck his tongue into your mouth, tasting every bit of the leftover wine that may have been there. With his other hand, he pushed your shoulder until you were slipping off of him and onto your back in your original spot on the bed, crawling over you and trapping you in his embrace.

His hands skimmed your inner thigh, lips latching onto the skin of your neck as he sucked shades of pink and red into the flesh. You tilted your head back in bliss, giving Jimin access to everything you had as the heat between your legs swelled. He ran a finger over your cotton underwear right along your slit and you gasped soft, a shudder racking your body as he touched you through the material.

You weren’t inexperienced. You’d had a few rendezvous in college at frat parties and had taken someone back to your apartment once or twice after a long night of drinking at the KGB.

But this was different, Jimin was different.

As his fingers traced over your most sensitive area you were suddenly shy, an inexperienced and nervous woman underneath him, and you found yourself biting your lip in uncertainty as your mind raced.

“Y/N,” Jimin said, reading your body and bringing his gaze eyelevel with yours. His eyebrows were furrowed as he took in your expression and he took his hand away from you. “We don’t—I’m sorry, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you pulled his face to yours with both hands, cupping his cheeks as you pecked his lips a few times, “I just spaced out for a moment. I’m here now.”

Jimin grinned at you, pressing his lips to yours as he tried to get both of you back in the mood. You ran your fingers through the soft strands of his hair, pushing it away from his forehead as his mouth moved against yours, once more trapping you under his unbreakable spell.

His fingers fiddled with your underwear again and you sighed a little at him finally pushing the material to the side. He slid a finger up your slit, gathering the wetness there before he slipped it inside you and you both closed your eyes—Jimin from relishing in how wet you were for him, you at the relief of finally having him touching you.

You bucked into his hand and he pulled out a little before sliding back in, causing you to groan and yank at his hair. “Ugh, Jimin, faster—”

He quickly set a pace, pulling out only to dive back up to his knuckle. It was only one finger, but damn did it felt like heaven to you. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back as Jimin pulled the shirt you were wearing above your breasts so he could latch on with his hot mouth. He rolled your nipple around with his tongue as his finger worked you to an incredibly fast orgasm, unable to stop the breathy noises spilling from your mouth.

“Jimin, ah, ah, right there, please—”

Groaning against your breast, he added another finger into your soaking heat, watching as your back arched off the bed in pleasure.

“God you’re so hot,” he murmured, trailing his mouth away from your nipple as he placed kisses down the center of your chest. You wanted him closer, to move his hand faster, to bring his lips back up to yours, to keep going further down until they latched onto your trembling core—so many things at once, but one thing that stayed at the center of your attention was how much you were clenching around his fingers, getting closer and closer to sweet relief.

Your head was somewhere else and so was Jimin’s obviously, because neither of you realized how un-quiet you were being as you enjoyed the moment together. Jimin was ravishing your chest with his mouth, kissing and sucking anywhere he could as you writhed underneath him, egging you on with his groans to get louder and louder. Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, your walls pulsing around Jimin’s fingers as he drove you to your high, a loud banging came through the wall behind you that Jimin’s headboard was pressed up against.

Your movements had caused it to thud against the wall a few times, waking up Taehyung in the other room. You jumped as his fist collided with the wall with ferocity, and Jimin’s fingers stilled inside of you.

“Fucking keep it down, would you? Jesus Christ!”

Jimin grinned devilishly down at you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly at getting caught. “Oops,” he whispered.

You brought your hands up to your eyes, covering them for the sake of not completely losing your shit at the thought of Taehyung knowing exactly what was going on between you two. Jimin moved away, placing your panties back in their proper position and cleaning his fingers off on his t-shirt that was thrown haphazardly on the floor. He rejoined you in bed a few seconds later, removing the hands shielding your tightly squeezed eyes and burning cheeks. He rested his head on your chest, looking up at you with all of his boyish charm, lips swollen from kissing, hair mussed from your fingers running through it so many times.

“Well,” he said, sighing, humor lacing his words, “Once a cock-block, always a cock block, I guess?”

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

For Better or Worse Ch 4

Ok, so I’m going to say this now. I’m so sorry for leaving this as a cliffhanger. But the chapter was almost 8k words and I didn’t want to have an 18k word chapter. that’s a little much. Also, in case you’re wondering. I do ride motorcycles myself so that’s where most of this chapter came from. 

AO3

For Better or Worse

Chapter 4

“Remember, when I lean, you lean with me,” Nyx reminded her as they came across the first curve in the road.

Luna did as she was told and leaned with him, holding onto him a little tighter. As the ride progressed, Luna slowly let go of any concerns she had about the safety of riding the motorcycle with him. Nyx was proving to be a competent driver and soon she began to look forward to the curves and hills in the road. The parallels in riding the motorcycle and horses and chocobos were almost uncanny to the point that she really enjoyed it. It was just so….freeing. The wind running over them, the open road, being able to look around and really enjoy the fast moving scenery. But those curves, damn those were fun, leaning with him, feeling her whole body move in unison with his was...just...amazing. He didn’t mind her holding onto him in fact there were several instances where he would take his hand down off the handlebars just to press her hands and arms into him. Like he was checking to make sure she was still there. It was reassuring and sweet. There were even times where he would simply pat her arm and hold up a thumbs up to her as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She smiled and returned the gesture before returning her hands and arms to his waist.

When they finally stopped to refuel and relieve themselves, they double checked the map and plotted a new course.

“Well, if we take this way there’s this city, this one and this one.” Nyx pointed out.

“Well I don’t know about you but if we could stop somewhere with a decent shower and an actual bed that would be great.” Luna proposed as she shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket before feeling something in one of the pockets.

“Ha,” Luna laughed before she pulled it out. A small wallet with an infinity symbol embossed onto the leather. “Oh no way!” She gushed as she eagerly opened it up.

“Ok, apparently, I’m Luna Ulric, and I’m from Galahd.” Luna said as she pulled the ID out of the wallet to look it over carefully before showing it to him.

“What?” Nyx said as he took it from her and looked at it closer in disbelief.  

“Hey, how come I…?” Nyx began before felling around in his own jacket to find a wallet of his own. “Ok, this works.” Nyx said as he pulled out his own to find his own ID and a credit card along with some cash.

“Ooh, look at your credit card.” Luna said as she looked at her own. “Bottom right corner.” She clarified.

“It’s the same infinity symbol.” Nyx shrugged.

“Exactly, a card without a limit. In the lore, the Pack contained a coin purse with the same symbol, but it would be empty to anyone who held it but the Guardian and the guarded. For them, you could dump it upside down and just coins would pour out of it like a never ending waterfall. So this is an updated version of that.” Luna explained with bright and excited smile as she squealed in uncontrolled glee.

Nyx smiled and laughed as he shook his head.

“We should probably stop at a store and get supplies like shampoo and conditioner and soap and stuff. Also a change of clothes or two wouldn’t hurt. This bike has saddle bags that look to be empty so we have space for a few things.” Luna noted happily before Nyx got back on the bike so she could get back on herself.

They rode until they reached the first city and pulled off when they found a suitable hotel with all kinds of stores and restaurants around it. They stopped at the hotel first to reserve a room before going out and getting what they needed.

“Oh, we need candy,” Luna said as she took the cart and carefully placed her helmet in the basket before she looked for the candy isle. “It’s been weird to ask for a candy bar from that bowl.” Luna murmured to him as they found the isle in question. “Ah yes, I’ll take one of these, and one of these, ooh, can’t forget this,” Luna chattered as she pulled various things off the shelves. Nyx rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but put his own favorite candy in the cart as well.

“Ooh, and junk food,” Luna added as she walked briskly to the other isle.

“I don’t care if I’ll have orange fingers, worth it,” Luna defended as she pulled a small orange bag of cheddar flavored snacks and put them in the cart. Nyx laughed as he pulled down his own chips and put them in the cart too. Gosh it had been way too long since either of them had the chance to eat anything that was so unhealthy yet oh so tasty.  

“Oh and pop, soda, whatever you call it,” Luna said as she went and pulled a two liter down and put it in the cart as well.

“Yeah, you can get pop, I’m getting beer.” Nyx remarked as he walked to the alcohol isle with Luna following him.

“This should do,” Nyx said as he put a six pack into the cart.

“Now we need soap and stuff.” Luna suggested as she turned and went to the other side of the store before getting side tracked by clothes placed in the middle of the store.

“I’m going to go get myself something.” Nyx said as he gestured to the men’s clothes section.

“Go for it, I’ll meet you in the shampoo, soap section.” Luna smiled as she waved him off.

Luna was grateful for the privacy as she picked out some underwear and another bra along with socks and a pair of pajamas and a swimsuit because the hotel had a pool and a hot tub and she was going to use them both.

She happily picked out all that she wanted and felt she would need for the next few days before heading to the meeting point. She found she had gotten there first and proceeded to try and choose what shampoo, conditioner and body wash she wanted.

By the time Nyx found her she was still deciding.

“Why did you get a bathing suit?” Nyx asked as he noticed a tiny piece of it poking out from her other clothing choices.  

“Because the hotel has a hot tub and a pool, tell me you’re not going to use at least the hot tub.” Luna proposed before Nyx pursed his lips.

“You’re right, I’ll be right back.” Nyx nodded as he left and headed back to the clothes section to get himself swim trunks.

When he came back Luna was still trying to decide what to get.

“Good lord, just pick something already,” Nyx complained.

Luna glared at him before she huffed and continued to look.

“This is an important matter that needs careful thought.” Luna defended sarcastically.  

“No it’s not, just pick something,” Nyx prodded.

“Fine, I’m getting this and this and this then.” Luna said as she put them in the cart.

“Why are you getting two things of conditioner?” Nyx deadpanned.

“One is for me, and the other is for you.” Luna informed him.

“I got a two in one, it has conditioner in it already.” He explained as he went to grab it and take it out.

“Not enough,” Luna batted his hand away. “You need a serious, heavy duty conditioner because it was like having straw waving in my face today.” Luna pointed out as she gestured to his hair before grabbing the ends for emphasis. “See, your ends are crunchy, hair shouldn’t be crunchy,” Luna emphasized.

Nyx blushed slightly at the interaction but didn’t move to distance himself either.

“And don’t worry, I’ve already smelled it, it’s not going to make you smell ‘girly’ if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Luna assured him as she pushed the cart to find hair accessories.

“Oh, I need hair ties,” Luna said as she found a pack that had different sizes before picking out a small comb and brush too.

“Are we done yet?” Nyx whined.

“Yes, we’re done, unless you can think of anything we’re forgetting.” Luna answered.

“There’s no way all of this is going to fit on the bike.” Nyx pointed out.

“We will find a way, besides, this Pack has a cool trick still up it’s sleeve.” Luna winked as they walked to check out.

Once out in the parking lot, Luna put their things on the ground before taking the pack off and finding little ties in the sides and bottom and undoing them.

“I need you to hold all this stuff,” Luna requested of the bag before Nyx opened up the saddle bags and started to put some things away in there as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. To his surprise, it was like the Pack suddenly became Marry Poppins bag that didn’t didn’t seem to have a bottom as Luna put bag after bag in the Pack.

“Tada!” Luna cheered as she picked the Pack up and put it over her shoulder.

“Shouldn’t that weigh a lot?” Nyx asked.

“No, I mean it’s a little heavier than before but not too heavy,” Luna remarked as she waited for him to get on and stabilize the bike before getting back on herself.

Once back at the hotel, they parked the bike and took the grocery bags from the saddle bags and walked in to find their room.

Once in the room they unloaded their bags onto the king size bed before Luna took the pack off and dumped the contents out.

“This is the bag that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friend...” Luna began to sing as they watched the contents fall out.  

“No, don’t start that shit, I won’t get it out of my head,” Nyx warned her before she laughed in response.

“You’re no fun,” Luna teased as she stuck her tongue out at him as they sorted through their newly acquired things.

“Uh huh,” Nyx shook his head as he pulled out his things from the lot before putting the new clothes aside and his toiletries and stuff in the bathroom.

Luna put her toiletries away in the bathroom too, bumping into Nyx several times as they tried to get around each other before going through the clothes and picking out an outfit.

“How about we go out for dinner?” Luna suggested.

“Sure, where did you want to go?” Nyx asked.

“I don’t know, somewhere we can sit down at table or booth or something.” Luna shrugged as she gathered her things. “I’m going to get a shower.” Luna announced as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Nyx sat in the little living area the room had and turned on the TV. He watched the news first and they showed Insomnia, still in shambles before it was announced that the world was still mourning the loss of King Regis along with Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle, who was presumed to be dead as well, even though no body was found. Suddenly, it dawned on Nyx that he could call Libertous and let him know that he was ok.

He got up and walked over to the phone before picking it up and dialing Libertous’ cell number.

“Hello?” Libertous asked curiously.

“Hey Hero,” Nyx smiled.

“Nyx! Where the hell are you?” Libertous asked.

“I’m fine, I’m on my way to Altissia,” Nyx answered as he tried to keep his voice quiet.  

“How did you get out of the city? I looked for you for days, I went to your apartment and salvaged that cork board of yours,” Libertous informed him.

“It’s a really long story,” Nyx said. “Look, I’m with the Princess, I’m following my last order to get her to Altissia safely but you can’t tell anyone, the Empire thinks she’s dead and we need it to stay that way so we don’t get hunted down.”

“Got it, right, right, sorry man, she talked me into letting her leave by herself.” Libertous tried to explain.

“Yeah she’s good and talking her way into getting whatever she wants.” Nyx chuckled.

“But you’re safe, you’re not hurt or anything?” Libertous asked again.

“I’m fine, I’m not hurt, Luna’s...I mean, the Princess, is not hurt, we’re fine, we’re ok.” Nyx assured his friend. “Are you still going back to Galahd?” Nyx asked.

“Yeah, there’s nothing left to keep me in Insomnia,” Libertous answered. “When are you coming back?” Libertous asked.

“I don’t know,” Nyx answered.

“Well how are you calling me?” Libertous questioned.

“We stopped at a hotel, I’m using our room phone. I guess I should get another cell phone huh?” Nyx guessed.

“Yeah and then call me again,” Libertous stressed.

“I will, I will, I should go,” Nyx said as he tried to end the conversation.

“Hey, what should I tell everyone?” Libertous asked.

“Don’t tell them anything, but keep my board ok?” Nyx instructed.

“I will, thank you for calling me and letting me know you’re ok,” Libertous said.

“You got it bud, I’ll call you again when I get a phone, take care of yourself.” Nyx insisted.

“You too,” Libertous replied before they ended the call.

Nyx blew out a breath of relief, at least Libertous knew he was alive and at least Libertous was ok too.

“Who was that?” Luna asked as she appeared out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head and dressed in her new clothes.

“Libertous, I called to tell him I was ok,” Nyx answered.

“Are you sure that was safe?” Luna questioned.

“Yeah, I can trust Libertous to have my back, he won’t tell anyone.” Nyx assured her.

“Ok,” Luna said, believing him before taking her hair out of the towel and combing it out again.

“Hey, Nyx? How do women in Galahd, wear their hair usually? My ID said that I’m from Galahd and I want to look like I come from there,” Luna explained.

“Uh,” Nyx stuttered as he tried to remember how his mom and his sister did their hair. “Well, you don’t have to, I doubt...” Nyx tried to counter.

“But I want to,” Luna insisted as she finished combing out her hair.

“Well, usually, they braid this tiny little piece and drape it...” Nyx tried to explain as he traced the direction of the braid across his own forehead.

“So like this?” Luna mirrored.

“Well, that’s if you’re not married, if a woman is married the braid goes the other way.” Nyx clarified.

“Well I’m assuming by my ID that our cover is that we’re married and we’re on vacation or something, so my little braid would go like this then?” Luna said as she grabbed a small piece of hair from the other side and draped it over her forehead in the opposite direction as before.

“I guess?” Nyx shrugged.

“Want a divorce already?” Luna teased.

“No,” Nyx shook his head no as he chuckled.

“Good, ok so you should get a shower and I’ll try to figure this braid thing out.” Luna suggested as she pulled the chair out from the desk and set it in front of the dresser where a mirror was and put her hair things on top of the dresser before attempting to get her hair to cooperate.

“Don’t forget to use the hair conditioner!” Luna reminded him loudly after he was in the shower for a few minutes.

“But I don’t wanna!” He called back sarcastically.

“Don’t make me come in there and do it for you!” Luna threatened before she giggled.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Nyx called her bluff.

“Oh wouldn’t I?” Luna purred as she opened the bathroom door and peek her head around it. She knew she wouldn’t see anything, the shower had a cloth shower curtain that obscured any view. The action made Nyx practically jump out of his skin he fumbled the stupid bottle and it clattered to the bottom of the tub after falling on his foot. His strangled, startled yelp caused Luna to laugh so hard. Ugh to see his face would have been priceless.

“Fuck! Luna!” Nyx growled as he nearly slipped and hurt himself.

“Make sure you use a lot and let the conditioner soak in for a few minutes,” Luna reminded him firmly before shutting the door again and going back to try and get this little braid right.  

“Fuck,” Nyx hissed as he picked it up and rolled his eyes as he begrudgingly poured out a glob of it and put it in his hair.

“It’s oily!” He complained.

“Silky,” Luna protested. “Soft, won’t irritate my face,” Luna added.

“I got something that will irritate your face...” Nyx muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Luna asked, not hearing what he said.

“Nothing,” Nyx called back. Gosh she fit into the roll of a nagging wife all too easily.

‘Just wife would be nice,’ his heart sighed.

‘Oh no, not you too,’ his reason argued.

‘It’s called our ‘cover’, act the part, call her darling or baby or honey or something,’ his heart suggested.

‘Ok that...may not be a bad idea,’ his sense of reason reasoned.

Nyx rinsed the stuff out of his hair and tried to rinse the rest of it off before he got out and got dressed in the bathroom.

When he got out he could see Luna trying to get the braid right but she was getting frustrated.

“Want some help?” Nyx asked.

Luna huffed before she bowed her head in defeat. “Yes,” Luna admitted as she undid the last failed attempt to get the braid right.

Nyx smiled as he walked over and combed out her hair again before his quick and nimble fingers found just the right amount of hair to go into the braid before getting to task.

“You braid so fast.” Luna said as she remained seated and watched him work from the mirror.

“A lot of practice.” Nyx smiled at her from the mirror before focusing back on the braid and within moments, he was done, he took one of the smallest hair ties she had gotten and tied the end before letting go of her hair.

“There,” Nyx said as he looked at his handy work.

“Thank you Nyx,” Luna said graciously as she gathered the rest of her hair and put it into a bigger braid. “Should help with the helmet hair thing.” Luna shrugged as she quickly braided the rest of her hair.

“Ready?” Luna asked as she stood.

“Yeah, let me get my boots on,” Nyx answered as he took a new pair of socks and his boots over to the chair in the sitting room and put them on.

“Oh, the hotel offers a laundry service, so if we put our clothes in this bag, they will get washed and returned to us in the morning.” Luna explained as she put her old clothes in the bag to get laundered.

“Ok,” Nyx agreed as he gathered his own clothes from the bathroom and put them in the bag too. Luna filled out the laundry tag and put on the door handle before calling down to the front desk and letting them know they had a laundry bag.

She went to put on her jacket and checked the pocket to make sure the Ring of the Lucii was still there, only to find two more rings along with it.

She pulled all three out to look at them closely.

“What do you have there?” Nyx asked as he put his own jacket back on.

“Wedding rings I think, I found them with the Ring of the Lucii,” Luna answered as she took the matching wedding bands and put them in Nyx’s hand.

“For our cover?” Luna guessed.

“Sure if you want,” Nyx agreed as he put the thicker of the bands on his left hand’s ring finger. “Huh, they got my ring size right.”

Luna simply presented her left hand for him to put the ring on her finger for her.

“With this ring, I take you, Nyx Ulric to be under cover husband,” Luna joked.

Nyx chuckled. “With this ring, I take you, Luna, to be under cover wife,” Nyx mirrored.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Luna smiled and stood up on her toes and quickly kissed him, taking him by surprise.

“Close enough,” Luna giggled as she turned and made sure she had a room key with her before they left, their motorcycle helmets in tow.

Nyx was completely floored and couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face even if he tried. He couldn’t believe she kissed him. Granted it was a quick, peck on the lips but she took him by such surprise that he barely could purse his lips for her to kiss them and he couldn’t act fast enough to kiss her back.

“Hey hun?” Nyx asked softly as they walked down the hall to the elevator.

“Yes?” Luna answered back sweetly. “What about the steak house?” Nyx suggested.

“Sounds great,” Luna smiled before they got on the elevator. Luna took a chance and slid her hand into his as they stood side by side in the quiet elevator and was supremely pleased that Nyx interlocked their hands together and held her hand.

“We’re just going to go for it huh?” Nyx guessed.

“Yup,” Luna beamed before the elevator opened again and they walked hand in hand out to their motorcycle to go have dinner.

Once they arrived at the restaurant, they joined hands again before Nyx let go so he could open the door for her.

“Aw, aren’t you chivalrous?” Luna gushed as she walked in through the open door.

“I try,” Nyx smiled as he continued to hold the door open for others that were going out.

“Ulric, table for two,” Luna informed the hostess before Nyx appeared next to her.

“Ten minutes,” the hostess told them as she handed them a buzzer for them to wait in the waiting room.

“Thank you, could I see a menu?” Luna asked before the hostess gave her one.

Luna thanked the hostess again before they found a spot in the waiting area.

Nyx sat down and put his arm on the back of the bench before Luna sat next to him and leaned into his open side and looked the menu over, trying to figure out what she wanted to eat.

Nyx glanced over at it, already having a good idea of what he wanted.

Within five minutes their buzzer went off and they stood and went to the podium to return their buzzer before they were led to their table.

Nyx tried to ignore how most of the guys at all the other tables took notice of Luna as she walked though the restaurant. But then they took one at him and immediately averted their gaze.

‘Damn straight mother fuckers, she’s with me,’ Nyx smirked as he took his seat.

Their waitress came and got their drink orders and Nyx was not surprised in the least that Luna ordered a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll just take a draft,” Nyx said as he picked out the beer he was going to drink. Nothing that would really get him that buzzed but it would relax him.

They ordered and enjoyed their meal as it progressed.

Luna noticed that their server, although polite seemed to be making eyes at Nyx and would look in his direction every so often before talking with the other waitresses. Luna tried not to get jealous. She knew very well how handsome Nyx was and knew that once they were around other people, this kind of thing was bound to happen. But what really made her heart soar was the fact that Nyx didn’t seem like he noticed or cared. His gaze scanned the room every so often but she assumed that was Nyx being alert to their surroundings which he always was. She did notice however that more than a few guys had been making eyes at her throughout their meal but Luna coolly ignored them. She was with Nyx her husband, well, sort of, why would she ever need to look at any other man?

‘Well, except Noctis,’ her reason pointed out.

‘Yeah but Noctis isn’t here, you need to play your part and enjoy your time with Nyx, who knows how much time you have left with him anyway, make the most of it.’ Her heart urged.

Then a young family was seated near them and Luna’s heart nearly melted at the sight of their children, the youngest was a baby, maybe six, seven months old? It was sitting up on it’s own and drooling on it’s teething toys but was otherwise the most darling thing Luna had seen in a while.

Nyx followed her gaze to where the family was sitting behind him.

“What a cute baby,” Luna said softly.

“Yeah,” Nyx agreed with a smile of his own. The baby turned and looked at Luna who lit up and gave the baby the biggest, brightest smile she could. The baby smiled back and started babbling at her. The mother of the child leaned over to see the interaction between Luna and her child and smiled at Luna herself before attending to her other children.

Luna put her hands over her face and played ‘peek a boo’ with the baby who laughed hysterically.

Nyx couldn’t help but laugh himself at her antics. The baby threw it’s teether at Luna but Nyx caught it mid air much to the baby’s astonishment.

“Did you drop something?” Nyx asked as he turned slightly to hand it back to the baby.

“Thank you. Sorry,” The dad said as he took the toy from Nyx to hand back to the baby himself.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” Nyx smiled.

Now the baby became obsessed with the throwing it’s toy at Nyx just to watch him catch it, every time he did, the baby continued to rock with laughter as it started to clap.

“You should eat.” The mother tried to insist as she cut up the baby’s food into tiny bites so it could eat too.

“Listen to mom, time to eat,” Nyx gently insisted as he gave the toy back to the dad.

“Thank you so much,” The mother thanked them.

“You’re welcome,” Nyx replied, giving her a slight nod before turning around in his seat to face Luna once again before going back to finishing his meal.

“Aww, when are you going to give me one of those?” Luna fawned and laughed when Nyx choked on his beer, the liquid coming up into his nasal cavity, slightly, causing him to cough and sneeze as he tried to stave off choking as his eyes watered because it burned. Nyx snatched up his napkin and tried to blow out his nose as he tried to remember how to breathe normally. The family behind him couldn’t help but laugh along with Luna at his reaction. Luna did that on purpose.

“Well, we can try tonight if you want,” Nyx answered smoothly once he recovered and was rewarded with Luna’s eyes widening in surprise as she gasped slightly, nearly choking on her own drink before he chuckled to himself. Two could play that game.

“Promises, promises,” Luna purred back as she blushed deeply before she changed the subject.

Goodness gracious this was fun.

When the bill came, Luna gestured for the waitress to come closer so she could ask her something. Luna leaned up and murmured something that Nyx couldn’t make out. The waitress nodded and opened up her notepad to show Luna something and Luna dug into her jacket to get her wallet before she handed the waitress her card.

“I thought I was paying for dinner?” Nyx asked curiously.

“You are, paying for our dinner.” Luna answered him with a small smile.

“Then what was that?” Nyx inquired as he gestured to the exchange Luna had with the waitress.

“Oh I’m paying for that family’s meal. Raising a family is hard and expensive and I rarely get the chance to bestow kindness like this,” Luna answered with her voice dropped so that the other family didn’t overhear. Nyx was proud of her for being so generous.

The waitress returned with their cards and both of them wrote out generous tips before sliding their cards back into their prospective wallets before taking their leave. Luna made sure to waive a small waive and a smile to the family before they walked out.

“That was really fun,” Luna hummed as they got back on the motorcycle to go back to their hotel.

“Hot tub?” Nyx asked as they walked into the hotel.

“Oh yeah,” Luna confirmed as they made their way back to their room.

“I call the bathroom,” Luna said as she grabbed her suit and stole away into the bathroom to change.

“Whatever,” Nyx shook his head as he got undressed before putting his swim trunks on and turned the TV back on as he waited for her.

“Ready?” Luna asked as she came out of the bathroom in her bikini, a simple, black bikini.

‘Fuck, she’s hot,’ Nyx couldn’t help himself from thinking.

“Yup,” Nyx nodded as he jumped up and turned the TV off.

“Towel?” Luna offered as she handed him one from the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Nyx said as he took it from her and strategically put it in front of him to help hide the erection that had sprung in his trunks as he tried not to stare at her lovely form as they made their way down to the inside pool and hot tub.

“Oh good they have towels down here,” Luna said as she came into the heated room and found a cart full of them and grabbed a few and put them on a chair for them. Before they made their way to the hot tub. Luna got in first and sank into the hot water and blew out a breath of relief as the stress and tension in her body began to float away.

Nyx groaned in appreciation as he got into the water and tilted his head back as his eyelids closed as he relaxed into the water himself.

“We should have been doing this all along,” Luna muttered as she relaxed in the hot tub.

“Well, we’re doing it now,” Nyx remarked as he didn’t bother to open his eyes as they continued to relax.

Soon however, he heard another guy clear his throat as he came over to get into the hot tub himself.

“Well hello there,” He greeted Luna smoothly.

Luna’s eyes snapped open as she quickly turned her head to consider who was talking to her and found that he wasn’t looking at her face, instead he was looking at her body, rather greedily and it made her feel instantly uncomfortable. “Hello,” Luna greeted back politely but instinctively went across the small pool to sit next to Nyx again, Nyx instinctively put his arms up to rest on the edge of the hot tub and Luna nestled as close as physically possible into his side and shoulder, using his arm as her head rest. The guy’s face fell slightly at the realization that they were together.

Nyx couldn’t help but grin triumphantly as Luna settled once more into him as she attempted to relax again.

“So where are you from?” The guy asked Luna. “Galahd,” Nyx answered calmly as he leveled a look at the guy.

“Wow, what are you doing all the way out here?” He asked.

“Vacation.” Nyx answered concisely.

“Oh,” The guy nodded.

Things were awkwardly quiet for a few moments before another couple, a much older one, came out from the pool and joined them.

“Oh come on Frank,” the older woman tittered. “Hey guys, how are you this evening?” She greeted warmly.

“Fine, how are you this evening?” Luna returned warmly in turn.

“Oh fine, fine, just on our way to see the grandkids,” the woman answered as she sat down in the hot tub.

“You don’t look old enough to have grandchildren,” Luna flattered.

“Oh aren’t you a sweet thing?” The woman waved off.

“I wish,” the other guy grumbled to himself under his breath but everyone ignored him.

“Oh sweetie I have several grandkids,” the woman explained.

“Keeping them all straight is a problem,” the older man laughed as he came in and sat down himself.

Something about him reminded Nyx of his own grandfather.

“I’m Frank by the way,” the older man introduced himself to Nyx.

“Nyx,” Nyx nodded as he shook Frank’s hand.

“Nick?” Frank repeated.

“No, Nyx,” Nyx repeated.

“Nicks,” Frank said with a nod before turning to the other guy.

“James,” he nodded as he shook Frank’s hand as well before Frank turned to Luna.

“What’s your name?” Frank asked politely.

“Luna,” Luna smiled as she shook his hand too.

“Oh lovely to meet you Luna, I’m Betty,” the older woman introduced herself and shook Luna’s hand too.

“Lovely to meet you too,” Luna smiled.

“So how many grandchildren do you have Betty?” Luna inquired curiously.

“Seven,” Betty smiled before listing all of them off along with their ages.

James quickly lost interest and left to go swim in the pool while the two couples talked. Once James had left Luna moved to the other side of Nyx so that herself and Betty could talk more easily.

“What happened to your chest son?” Frank asked Nyx.

“Oh, I was...struck by lighting,” Nyx answered, figuring that was the best way to describe how the King’s magic affected his body.

“Oh, lucky guy to have survived.” Frank said.

“Yeah, lucky,” Nyx nodded.

“So was that before or after you met your wife?” Frank inquired.

“Before,” Nyx nodded as he looked from Frank to Luna who was deep in conversation with Betty.

“How did you two meet?” Frank asked. “Honey,” Nyx said as he gently stroked Luna’s arm to get her attention. “Yes dear?” Luna asked as she paused her current conversation to consider him.

“Frank wants to know how we met.” Nyx posed.

“University,” Luna quickly answered as if she had been waiting for someone to ask her that very question. “Yes I was taking Political Science and Medicine and Nyx was taking...what again?” Luna asked, completely unsure of what to come up with for him.

“Security and Law Enforcement.” Nyx supplied.

“Oh that’s right,” Luna nodded in agreement. “Yeah we formally met at a party, it was really romantic, I didn’t hardly know anyone there but there was really pretty fireworks,” Luna supplied. “We just...hit it off and became inseperable ever since.” Luna smiled.

“Aww, and how long have you two been married?” Betty asked.  

“Less than a year.” Luna answered.

“Aww, still honeymooners.” Betty gushed.

“Yeah,” Luna giggled as Nyx pulled her to him to kiss her temple.

“Aren’t you two precious, well I wish you the best, you two look really happy. And I’m happy we could scare that other guy off, he couldn’t take his eyes off you since you walked into the pool room.” Betty revealed.

“Yeah I know,” Nyx nodded.

“Problem with being with beautiful women, everyone wants to be with them too.” Frank remarked. “I still keep a baseball bat around for when guys can’t take their eyes off of you,” Frank told his wife. “Oh stop you,” Betty gushed as she pat Frank’s chest.

“Does that mean I need to keep like two baseball bats?” Nyx posed to Luna.

“Three,” Luna laughed.

“Well, we should get going, it was lovely talking with you, enjoy your stay and I hope you make it to your grandchildren safely.” Luna bid them as Nyx and herself got up and out of the hot tub.

“They were lovely,” Luna said as they made their way back to their room.

“Yup,” Nyx agreed.

Luna and Nyx took turns rinsing off hot tub water before getting dressed in pajamas and digging into their junk food as they watched TV from the little sofa in their room. They shared their snacks as they watched various things before settling on Nyx’s favorite cartoons. Luna laid her head onto Nyx’s shoulder as she felt herself grow sleepy. Nyx moved his arm so that she could lean into his side once more as Nyx wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He could get used to this.

They stayed that way until Luna fell asleep. Nyx felt her body sag and tilted his head forward to try and see her face, he moved her bangs out of her face, his fingertips finding and following the delicate braid draped across her forehead. Goodness gracious she was beautiful.

‘Nocits is a lucky guy,’ his reason reminded him. The thought brought him back to reality and caused his heart to restrict painfully in his chest. For all of this pretending and flirting, he couldn’t change who he was and who she was and what her future would most likely be. He thought about what his options were, if Noctis and Luna did end up getting married, would he stay? Would he stay in the Glaive? Would he resign himself to be a soldier once again or would he return to Galahd? If he stayed, how close could he reasonably and realistically stay with her? Would they be friends, he was already sworn to protect the King, would he serve Prince Noctis the same way he had served his father? Would he let his affections for Luna...would he turn into Drautos and serve a King he would loathe because he felt and somehow knew in every fiber of his being that he could love the Queen better than the King could. Or would he simply leave it all behind. Could he live with himself either way?

Luna’s face twisted slightly as she started to wake up. Nyx’s breathing had quickened along with his heart rate and his heart was pounding under her ear.

“What’s wrong?” Luna asked as she tried to wake up a little to sit up.

“Nothing,” Nyx answered as he tried to silence his thoughts.

“What time is it?” Luna asked as she looked about the room for a clock.

“Late, we should get to bed.” Nyx answered as he sat up.

Luna hummed in agreement and got up and staggered over to the bed and put herself under the covers as Nyx turned off the lights and things in the room before settling in on the other side of the bed.

“Good night love, I hope you feel better,” Luna murmured drowsily as she yawned before she fell back asleep.

Nyx bit his lips in the dark, she was not making this easy. Heaven help him.

Luna could tell something was bothering Nyx but she was also too tired to argue with him she could sense the fear and anxiety radiate from him and didn’t know how to fix it. She could feel him start to close himself off to her again. But she knew why, he was trying to save himself, trying to save them both from unhappy futures always wondering ‘what if’.

She had denied herself these kinds of relationships not knowing what exactly what her duties were going to ask of her in the future however she found herself wondering that if she gave into her wants, her temptations and desires just this once, letting herself live life to the fullest and ‘sow her wild oats’ so to speak if she could be satisfied in that fact so that she didn’t wonder ‘what if’ for the rest of her life, she would know for certain. But she also knew that Nyx had too much honor to really go for something like that.

The next morning, Nyx awoke to find Luna’s back to him but she wasn’t sleeping, she had already awoken and her eyes focused on nothing as she thought everything over.

When Nyx stretched as he started to wake up, Luna rolled over to face him once more.

“Good morning,” Luna greeted as she tried to contain her anxiousness.

“Good morning,” Nyx replied as he rolled over to face her. “When you wake up a bit, I need to talk to you,” Luna informed him.

“I’m pretty awake now...” Nyx answered hesitantly as he started to frown.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Luna posed.

“No,” Nyx quickly shook his head.

“Is pretending to be my husband asking too much of you emotionally?” Luna asked.

Nyx opened his mouth before the words died in his throat. He shut his mouth and subconciously held his breath for a moment before exhaling and closing his eyes.

“I...I don’t know how to answer that.” Nyx finally admitted.

“If it is, if you think that we are getting too close and that will compromise us. That’s...I will do my best to make peace with it... We can take the rings off, stop this charade and just try to get to Altissia as quickly as possible because once you do, once you fulfill your duty of seeing me to Altissia safely, you’re free, you’re free to go back to Galahd and to live out the rest of your life how you see fit, happy and content knowing you did all that was asked of you and move on with your life, forget all about me, forget all about any of this if you want.” Luna gave him an out. “It will be easier for you if we regain our professional distance.”

Luna bit her lips from keeping herself from talking any more. She knew that she needed to end it there. She closed her eyes shut as she prepared herself for him to say yes. She tried to keep her breathing under control even though her heart was pounding in her chest. She opened her eyes again needing to search those glorious blue eyes again, even if it was for one of the last times she ever would.

“What do you want?” Nyx asked. He needed to know if she really wanted what she was saying or if she was just trying to give him an out. “Honestly?” Luna asked, unsure if she should really speak her mind on the matter.

“Please, only ever be honest with me,” Nyx invited. “I really want to know what you want.” Nyx insisted.

Luna took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice.

“I have been fighting an inner war with myself because part of me, the sensible, wiser part, says we should do what I just proposed. That I’m better off not knowing any different and to ‘save myself’ any misery and heart ache that will come when we part ways. That’s mostly what my head tells me. My heart, my emotional part of me, keeps telling me to make the most of having you all to myself and to push off going to Altissia because I don’t want to be parted from you, for any reason, for any length of time and I know, that’s not reasonable, or realistic and extremely selfish but I just don’t care. I’m drawn to you on so many levels more than I have ever been drawn to anything or anyone before and I just want to jump head first into everything and live this small but pivotal time in my life to the fullest and not have any regrets or not wonder about all the ‘what ifs’ that will keep me up at night because I will know. I will know what it was like to be liked for myself and for once in my life to be ‘normal’ and not worry about the future or duty or obligation and just really, be in the moment, as long as you’re in that moment with me,” Luna disclosed quickly, trying to get it all out before she lost her nerve. “But only if you would want that too.” Luna added as she dropped her gaze, unable to hold his gaze any longer. She curled in on herself as she waited for his answer. She both dreaded and depended on it and felt her eyes gloss with tears that threatened to fall.

She saw something move out of the corner of her eye, it was his hand, reaching out to her, she moved to intercept it with her own hand but before she could, his hand had cupped her cheek and gently moved her face up to face him. When she looked up, he had moved across the bed and his face was now only a few inches away from hers.

“Ok,” Nyx whispered softly before finally claiming her mouth with his own.

[busan97fics]

Deadly: Part 01.

By: busans97 (busan97fics)

Pairing: OC x Jungkook

Word Count: 2,013

Warnings: violence, gore

Summary: Being a “hitman” (or woman, in this case) figure at eighteen is bizarre, but falling in love with a boy you’re supposed to kill in a matter of seven days is even more bizarre.

[check out the other parts of this story!]

(gif credit to owner)

There is a certain tranquility in watching someone's blood ooze out from beneath their dead, cold body. It's kind of like the silence after a tornado passes.

I kill people for a living; just in case you were wondering why I was watching some dead guy bleed out. I swear I'm not a weirdo who just watches people die.

Long story short, my parents fucked me over at a young age, so I've been on my own in the world since I was twelve. I got into a bad scene, I guess you'd call it, and now I'm here after six years. It's not as bad as a scene as you think, though. I don't kill just anyone for money, which is a big reason why I don't refer to myself as a hitman-type figure. I kill the bad people who need to be killed: racists, cheaters, rapists, you name it. I've always been a big believer in getting justice even if it meant doing it immorally, so I guess you could say this job is pretty much made for me.

I get paid a good amount for it, too. The most I've ever gotten in a week is $10k. Not bad for an eighteen-year-old orphan, huh?

I stared at the dead man on the floor one last time, then I began to gather my things: my gun and my bag for money. Unruffled, I walked out of the apartment and took out the disposable cell-phone from my pocket and dialed a number.

"Jiyu? It's Eunju. The job is done, meet me around the corner Jihun's apartment. Bye."

As I left the apartment building, I spotted a dark-haired girl waiting across the street, tapping her fingers anxiously against the metal telephone pole. I squinted to try to get a better look at who it was, and like she was reading my mind, the girl turned around to reveal her face to me. It was Jiyu, thank God.

Her face immediately lit up as she spotted me on the sidewalk, and she began running towards me; and when she approached me she engulfed me in a tight, uncomfortable hug. I winced as she rocked me back and forth and made the sides of my arms turn white.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Jiyu squealed. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"No problem, it's what I do." I said while attempting to squirm out of Jiyu's embrace. "But hey. You can repay me by maybe giving me that money..."

"Oh! Right." Jiyu pulled out a huge wad of cash from her bag and placed it in my hand. It looked like it could be $8K or $9K, even.

My jaw slightly dropped in awe. "How much is this?!"

"$9,000."

"Holy shit, Jiyu, you don't need to—"

"No, Eunju, I want to." Jiyu insisted. "He was a...horrible man. I went through that shit with him for almost three years, and it's finally over thanks to you. This is how I wanna repay you."

"But we agreed on $2500, I don't want to screw you over like that. This is almost $7,000 more than we agreed on, at least take $1K back."

"No. Keep it. All. You deserve it, Eunju. I know your job is dirty and pretty illegal, but I think you're doing a wonderful and underrated thing. It's much more than the police did to help me."

I cracked a slight smile at her indirect compliment. "Thanks. That's what I aim for, or at least try to. I'm happy Jihun's out of your life for good. He didn't deserve someone as kindhearted as you."

"Ahh, Eunju," Jiyu faintly smiled and blushed. "Thank you. So much. It's pretty late, I should start to head home."

"Be careful," I warned. "It can get dangerous around here. Let me give you my actual number just in case something happens."

Jiyu handed me her phone and I swiftly entered my contact in. I smiled at her and decided to return the hug she gave me earlier.

"See you," Jiyu waved and began walking in the other direction.

I let out a deep sigh. Not a rude one, just an exhilarated one. This job has taught me there are two types of people in the world: selfish egotists and selfless, beautiful people.

Some clients I get stand out more than others; for good and bad. Like Jiyu, for example, is a client who stood out to me very positively. She is one of the most thankful clients I've worked for, and you can notice by the exasperation she had about her situation. And that's where the bad clients come in.

"Bad" clients don't come to me because they're emotionally drained about this person. These people come to me for pure revenge. Bad customers don't cry or stress. They get angry, irate even. Bad clients are also usually the ones that throw false accusations at me. I haven't gotten too many false accusations, thankfully, but it's the most horrible feeling when you discover you've killed an innocent person. Those are the clients you have to watch out for, and it's unfortunate that there's shitty people like that in the world, and it's even more unfortunate when it's almost impossible to keep a lookout for those type of people: you can see motivation in their eyes, but you can also see a coat of "genuine" fear and tragedy to the point where the coat is so big that it makes the motivation invisible.

I made my way down the streetlight-lit road towards my friend Yoongi's place since it was still pretty early in the night: 11PM.

Yoongi and I have been friends since I was about fourteen and he was twenty. It's a pretty big age gap considering how young I was at the time, but he really is like a big brother figure to me. I didn't always live alone in my own apartment like I do now; Yoongi was the one who noticed me moving from different alleyways to abandoned buildings nearly every night back then. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty terrified when he first approached me, I didn't know what to say or think other than that this guy was gonna kidnap me and send me to Guam for human trafficking or something. But he saw that I was a nervous wreck, and he warmed up to me. The way he talked to me so soothingly and asked me questions just made me feel so relaxed and made me forget everything that was going on in my life at that moment. He was one of the first people who sincerely cared for me, which made my hormonal fourteen-year-old self's heart flutter. Yes, I had a crush on Yoongi for a bit. It's a pretty long story, but to make it short, I continuously tried to make moves on him up until I was sixteen, which he kindly rejected and told me that I was "too young" for him. It angered me, but he wasn't wrong. That's over now, though. After being in a handful of relationships after that I've decided I'm done with guys. They all just want you for one thing. Do I even need to say what that one thing is?

I arrived to Yoongi's apartment building after a short 5 minutes of walking and walked up the 3 flights of stairs it took to get to his apartment. It always pissed me off that his building was on the older side and didn't have an elevator. I jiggled the doorknob of his front door. Locked. I stood on my tippy toes and reached my hand up to the top ledge of the door until I felt a key. Very original, Yoongi.

I walked into Yoongi's apartment to see Yoongi and his roommate Hoseok playing some type of video game. I confidently marched over to the kitchen table, which was located right behind the boys, and slammed the wad of cash I had in my pocket onto the table. The two boys instinctively turned around widened their eyes once they spotted the money on the table.

"How much is that?" Yoongi asked casually, but his face said otherwise.

"$9 fucking K." I proudly looked down at the money now spread apart on the table and felt a smirk form on my face.

"Were you in some kind of inside job where you had to kill the President or something?" Hoseok chimed in.

I laughed at his snarky mark. "Only if. Just a normal job; nothing different than what I usually do. The girl I helped was just so thankful. And now I am too!" I began to throw the paper money in the air.

"You made what you usually make in a week in one night," Yoongi stated. "What the hell are you gonna do with all that money? And who are you gonna share it with?"

"Woah, who said I was gonna share it?"

"We all know if you used that all you'd spend it on clothes and food." Hoseok said, turning his body back around to face the TV monitor. "Impulsively, of course."

"So? It's my money. I can do whatever I want with it." I said matter of factly.

"Yeah, it's your money you earned by killing a man," Yoongi scoffed.

"Hey, you got your interests and I got mine." I fished through Yoongi's fridge in hopes of finding something to munch on. "Do you guys mind if I crash here tonight?"

"No," the boys said in unison. Their monotone voices gave away that they were both engrossed with their video game once again.

"Can't we watch a movie or something instead of playing Overwatch all night?" I plopped on the couch in between Hoseok and Yoongi, who both dared not to take their eyes off the fluorescent screen.

"You're just upset because you don't know how to play," Hoseok teased, which earned a light chuckle from Yoongi.

I rolled my eyes and took my phone out of my pocket to see tons of messages from my friend Jisu: 24 text messages and 7 missed calls.

Hey, where r u?

Can u talk?

It's important

Eunju please

Call me when you see these

I met Jisu a while ago; I met her through Yoongi actually. They both went to school together so she was always over Yoongi's place when I used to live here. Jisu and I were friends, but not really close. I have her number, but I haven't talked to her for at least a year. We really didn't have anything in common, other than us both being friends with Yoongi. So I think calling her my "friend" is an overstatement, I'd say an acquaintance, if even that.

I shot up from the couch and quickly walked over to the hallway so I wouldn't disturb Yoongi and Hoseok. But I guess me standing up and walking away abruptly didn't exactly make me invisible to them.

"You okay?" Of course Yoongi sensed there was something wrong.

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Just need to take a call."

Yoongi nodded and shifted his focus back onto his video game. I turned into the guest bedroom (also my old bedroom) and swiftly dialed Jisu. She immediately answered.

"Eunju?"

"It's me. Are you okay?"

Jisu hesitated. "Yeah it's...I'm fine. It's nothing really."

"Just tell me. I mean, if you're calling me out of all people it has to be pretty significant, right?"

I could hear a faint laugh over the phone. "Um...uh, I don't know how else to put this. I...I think I have a job for you. I need you to....kill someone."

[A/N]: Hello to everyone who read this! Thank you sm for reading, i should have the two other parts i’ve already written up very soon. I originally started writing this fic on wattpad, but I find it easier to publish it here, so I’m probably going to continue writing fics on here from now on lolsnddn. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and stay tuned for the next part ;)

[pt. 2]

[dreamscript]

The Fires Within: Ch. 7

a hellhound au twist on this request

This is seriously taking the concept of “inner demons” to another level. And, in all honesty, it’s a bit too literal for your liking.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (M) | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 (final)

8k words, yoongi/reader, hellhound au, action: violence

The sunlight is blinding.

You raise your arm over your eyes in an attempt to shield your face from the rays. A cursory glance around your surroundings tells you--that you have no idea where you are. Perfect.

“You’re in his mind,” comes a voice from--the skies? You look upwards, confused. “Describe your surroundings, by the way. As you go. I need to pinpoint just where exactly you are. You’re fine, right? The jump was kind of rough...”

Ah. Taehyung’s girlfriend. Back in the real world, outside of Yoongi’s mind, you’re strapped to the medical chair, one of her hands on your head, the other on Yoongi’s, and the rest of the squad crammed in room.

“Uh,” you say, tentatively. It feels strange just kind of standing there, talking. At something that isn’t physically there. “It’s--sunny. And--” you turn around in a full circle “--there are a lot of buildings--tall ones. It’s...cool. Clean. I see a few houses down this one alley and they are nice. Also, can other people like--hear me? I feel kind of stupid just standing in the middle of the street mumbling to myself.”

“No,” she laughs. “This is merely a memory. Other people can’t see you.”

“Oh, okay.” And, almost as if to prove her point, a child runs up from a nearby alleyway and, without even a moment’s hesitation, goes straight through you. The moment you had to marvel at the thought of being there but not really is immediately lost when you realize that the child is Yoongi.

Hurriedly, you make to follow after him.

//

He leads you down one of those pathways set with even, flat, white cobblestone, shrubs and small trees artfully planted at the peripheral. Houses rise from the hilltops, sprawling over the bright green grass. You can’t help but eye the luxurious estates enviously. Was this where he lived as a child?

The little boy in front of you continues to run. It makes sense, of course. For a mage as skilled as Yoongi, to have been a part of the League for so long, of course he’d probably have come from a long line of celebrated magic users…

A part of you wonders why you’d never known about this before. Another part of you aches with the realization that, despite all your thoughts, you really didn’t know much about him… at all.

Young Yoongi comes to an abrupt stop and you immediately slow down your steps so as to not run into him--except then you remember it doesn’t matter. With a huff, you run straight through his body. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Status report?”

You shrug, even though she can’t see. “Not much, really. Just a lot of running. I followed a child Yoongi--he’s adorable, by the way--to this affluent neighborhood. And now he’s--oh, he’s going down a path to one of the mansions. Did he come from a wealthy family? I know he used to live in the Capital but no one ever told me about--this.”

“Well, I asked Taehyung and co. about it just now, and yes, it seems that you are indeed approaching his house. Apparently he never really talks much about his past and origins though, so it would make sense that you don’t know.”

Even though she was probably trying to assure you, you can’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. The child approaches the doors to the mansion, only for them to swing open by themselves. A maid greets “the young master” and escorts him in, taking his well-fitted jacket. You almost fall over yourself when you see him smile happily up at her, mutter a cheerful thanks, and then practically skip up one of the sweeping staircases.

If it hadn’t been for the confirmation you received earlier, you would’ve thought you followed the wrong kid. Plus, it wouldn’t make much sense that his memory of some other boy would be this vivid and in-depth. No, this has to be Yoongi.

So then, what happened…? Did he experience trauma of sorts? Probably.

“How is he, by the way? His mind?” you venture. You hope she can hear you.

“He’s doing okay.” Then, after a pause, she adds on, “As fine as anyone in a coma, that is.”

“Can you--are you able to check for any signs of psychological trauma in his mind?” you ask.

“Unfortunately, with the hellhound rampant, and me already conducting this operation with you, I am not able to.”

“Ah, I see.”

Yoongi finally makes it to be what you presume to be his bedroom: a large, spacious area, complete with furniture of gilded gold. A set of large, wide windows outlook the city skyline, framed by fluttering curtains. The entire decor of the area makes you wonder just how rich he was. Or is. Maybe that’s why he told you that one time, in which you two were bickering over the mission, that he didn’t quite care for the money.

Young Yoongi flops down on his King size bed, shuts his eyes, and promptly falls asleep. You chuckle at his chubby cheeks, flushed with exercise, pressed into the plush pillow.

//

He’s awake. Young Yoongi is awake and is getting dressed to “go out and play.” The maid helping him fusses and then gives him a brief lecture on being fair, sharing, taking turns, and treating everyone nicely and with respect.

He nods, but his adult behavior makes you wonder if he ever even bothered to listen to those words. Or if he even heard them.

In any case, the maid finally lets him out of the house with a warning that if he did not return home by curfew, his parents would make sure there would be “severe consequences.” With a nod and flutter of clothes, he is gone, and you are left to chase after him.

//

For someone of such high status and wealth, Yoongi did not seem to let it go to his mind. He played with everyone, people of all social classes and races. The younger ones looked up to him and the older ones took part in playful rivalries. You watch as the race leaf boats down a babbling brook, shouting, yelling, cheering their boats on.

There’s an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Yoongi was so happy and full of life as a child. He seems so drained and closed off as an adult.

“I’m picking up a few disturbances up ahead,” the mind reader warns. “Stay alert. This could be one of the hellhound offshoots.”

“Right.” You grit your teeth and forge on with the memory, casting sideways, tentative glances about. You consider sending out one of your scouts but--if you’re up against a hellhound, you’re going to need as much magic as possible.

Yoongi laughs mirthfully as his own little leaf boat tips and sinks under, skipping over rocks to pull the drenched thing out. He dangles it between his dainty fingers, watching it drip water from its tips.

You sense movement.

And it’s not the other children clambering over rocks and skipping across the grass--it’s fast and dark and menacing. It skirts across the shadows and exists only at your peripheral vision…

Your lance of magic is up and glowing before you even know it, clashing with the beast’s claws and protecting you from harm. Eyes narrowed, you jump backwards, readying yourself for another attack. You note how the children continue to play, seemingly unaffected.

Except… Yoongi seems to flicker, body occasionally dissipating into mere static.

“Looks like you’ve found one. Or rather, it’s found you.”

“Yeah,” you say, staring down at the beast. It snarls. “It’s so formless--its body doesn’t even seem to have a definite shape. It keeps on changing and its eyes are the only thing that doesn’t look like black smoke.”

“That’s just how they look in the subconscious.”

You roll your eyes and dodge another attack. “Attractive.”

//

“So,” Hoseok says, turning to look at Yoongi. “What were you telling us about that beast thing again?”

Yoongi startles out of his thoughts and looks up; everyone is staring at him expectantly. “Um, it’s dangerous, it can change forms, and it doesn’t fucking die. Basically, we’re screwed.”

And also, he notes to himself, he seems unable to die as well… or maybe that was just the beast’s magic.

“Or maybe it can create some pretty damn realistic illusions,” Yoongi adds on, after a moment’s thought. Namjoon muses thoughtfully over his words.

“Um, guys?” Jungkook says. “Don’t you think we should wait for ________ to get back before we launch into our full scale discussion?”

“No need to,” replies someone. “I’m here now.”

Yoongi immediately perks up at the voice--and there you are. The person who he was missing but didn’t realize that he was. Still--he furrows his brows--something, no, everything about his current situation feels bizarre, way-off. He can’t seem to recall how he got here, or what he was doing before then… and for some reason he can’t stop thinking about his childhood days and when he would race leaf-boats down that brook.

And it’s not just him--there’s that weird beast thing out there. And everyone is acting way too nonchalant, way too dismissive about this entire fiasco…

“Hi, ________,” Taehyung says. “How’d it go? Find any leads? We were just talking with Yoongi here, and apparently he had a personal experience with the beast himself…”

You shrug and sling off your coat, draping it over your chair. “Nah, not really. All I ever learned were a few useless facts about the city, nothing much.” You turn to look at Yoongi, hands folded under your chin. “So, tell me again about this experience? What happened?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak--only to choke on his own words when suddenly everyone’s faces blur into a nondescript mass. The lights flicker. Somewhere out back the generator dies out.

And then--after a few moments of heart-pounding fear and apprehension--the lights come back on and everyone’s face is back to normal.

“Well?” you prod, completely unfazed. Everyone continues to look at him expectantly, as if nothing happened at all.

Yoongi swallows and thinks he’s going to be sick.

//

“I will admit,” you say, calling back your magic. “Out of all of the things I was expecting, the hellhound running away was not one of them.” You stare at the spot in which it’d disappeared, its shadowy form completely blown away by the vortex of wind that suddenly blew out of nowhere. Yoongi and the children continue to play. It seems the memory is back to normal.

“Well, you’ve definitely weakened it, that’s for sure. From here on it, the other shadows should be less… powerful.”

Panting, you sit down for a second, just to get yourself back together. There are multiple cuts and bruises all over your body, but in the subconscious, physical injuries tend to heal fast. Really fast. You study the cuts that are rapidly closing themselves.

“Reassuring,” you say. And it is, except you’re still not too keen on fighting multiple hellhound-shadow-things. Ones that can’t fucking die and are deathly fast. “Where to next?”

“Hold on,” she says. “I sense a few outcrops in his subconscious, but I need to locate them… God, his mind is all jumbled because of the beast. Ugh, this is going to take me a second. I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay.”

A minute or so later, the world around you warps and you can only hope that she’s found the right place, and it’s not the hellhound coming to exact its revenge on you.

//

Yoongi leans against the bathroom door, panting heavily. Just outside he can hear the dull chattering of voices, of everyone else discussing their findings and planning out what to do next. He envies them, how their minds are clear enough to even think and strategize. He can’t--he doesn’t even know what the hell is going on, why all these visions of the past are suddenly haunting him all over again…

How… How…-- Yoongi curses. He feels a ripping feeling in his chest. His breathing gets heavier even though the only thing he’s done is stumble from the bedroom to the bathroom. Is he going insane? Maybe.

“It’s gotta be him, you know.”

Oh god, he’s hearing voices now. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, snaps them wide open. He’s still alive, very much in the same place and certainly not dreaming or whatnot. He’s definitely going insane. As soon as they get back to the League, he’s scheduling himself for a psych eval.

“Really? Why?” Another voice floats in and he can’t help but shudder.

“It’s always the rich ones,” the first voice replies. “They can--”

//

“--grease palms, you see.”

You stare, quizzically, as the trow goblins discuss their theories in a back alleyway. So far, all you’ve managed to gather is that someone killed a group of their kind, and a few are a bit too eager to place the blame on Yoongi.

“Grease palms?”

“Yeah,” one says. “You know, bribing officials? I seen ‘em do it all the time! Happened when my daddy was killed. They didn’t even do an investigation.”

“God, that’s terrible!” a voice squeaks. “And are you saying that’s going to happen to them? That this--Yoongi--is going to grease the palms of the police department? That our friends will have died due to injustice? We--god, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” another voice grouses. “But we should definitely take this up to the Elders. They’ll know.”

“Alright then. Let’s go--we can’t waste any time now, can we?”

Their footsteps fade off into the distance.

Unbeknownst to them, Yoongi is crouched beside a barrel just outside of the alleyway entrance, frowning and frozen and looking absolutely terrified. You stare down at him with a frown. Did he try to fight back? To justify himself?

You catch sight of the bruises and cuts that peek out from underneath his dirtied clothes. Maybe he had. And maybe they didn’t listen.

Or rather, someone didn’t want him to tell.

//

Back at his home, he proceeds as normal. When the maids ask him what happened, if one of the neighborhood boys got a bit too cocky, Yoongi shrugs and replies that he had a few wrestling matches, here and there. They nod and then laugh about young boys and scuffles. You know it’s all a lie.

He’s always seemed to be an independent person, so the fact that he doesn’t immediately crack and spill the beans makes sense. You purse your lips and study him further. But still--to the point in which he suffers so much physical harm? Is he too scared to tell? Embarrassed? Or maybe, maybe he thinks that if he tells, he’d only be perpetuating the stereotype. That if his parents found out, they’d simply pay the goblins off just to get the whole ordeal over with.

“Careful,” the mind reader warns. “I’m starting to pick up something foul. It’s so close I can practically taste it. Eugh.”

“Got it,” you reply.

At night time, as the wind flutters through his curtains, he sits on top of his bed fit for a king and curls in on himself. He holds his hands over his ears and trembles with a desperate, trapped anxiety.

“I didn’t kill them,” he mutters to himself, over and over again. “I didn’t kill them, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me--” Slowly, he turns his heads towards you. Your body tenses. He shouldn’t be able to see you. Why is he turning towards here? “--IT WASN’T ME!” He stares at you full on and all of a sudden his voice is morphing, growing deeper, and his mouth is wide open with fangs and saliva.

“I DIDN’T KILL THEM!” He lunges right at you, eyes glowing and body forming into black smoke. You grunt, throwing yourself to the side as the Yoongi-hellhound thing craters the wall with a swipe of its fist.

His words devolve into primal snarls, guttural and low.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, regaining your bearings. There’s a throbbing pain on your side but you pay no attention to it. “Just a little shaken, that’s all.”

//

The lights dim and flicker again. Yoongi groans and slumps down, sitting himself onto the bathroom floor. To hell with this mission. To hell with figuring out this damn beast. He doesn’t think he’s going to leave the bathroom alive.

“Yoongi?”

Your voice is muffled through the door. “Hello? Are you in there?” You knock on it.

“Mmfph.” He can’t manage much else. His chest feels too tight. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.

“Are you dead?” you laugh. “You’ve been in there for ages.”

Yoongi says nothing.

“Yoongi, if you don’t reply, I’m just going to come in,” you say, knocking again.

He tries to form a reply--he really does. But all he succeeds in is completely falling over, collapsing on his side like a ragdoll. Boneless.

You must’ve heard the thump of his body hitting the floor because the door almost immediately opens, you letting out a surprised gasp.

“Oh my god are you actually dead?”

//

You pant as you run down the darkened streets, eyes flicking from side to side. Nothing. There’s a throbbing pain on your side and you press your hand to it--only for it to come away bloody.

“Damn,” you mutter. “And the thing got away, too. Where the hell did it go?” You’re unsurprised when you receive no response from Taehyung’s girlfriend. Probably some interference or some shit due to the hellhound; that would definitely explain the fast-changing surroundings and random glitches.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a dark shadow moving swiftly against the wall. Without a second thought, you shoot a lance right at it, effectively cratering the stone. Clouds of dust billow from impact. When they clear, the shadow is gone.

And, before you can curse under your breath, the scene changes--again. It must be your injuries, or exhaustion, or whatever, because you immediately collapse from vertigo, mind whirling and limbs feeling numb.

With a grunt, you put a hand to your forehead, trying to grasp onto your surroundings. And when you do, the first thing you realize is that the moon is red.

Blood red.

Red as the moon the night Yoongi turned into a hellhound, which could mean that--

“--lonely! He’s afraid to be lonely!” A wind billows over you and suddenly dark chants from a nearby alleyway catch your ears. You hurry to round an alleyway, stopping short when you come across a small niche, hidden right between two towering, rusted buildings. It looks like you’re in the slums, somewhere in the back alley--

When you finally register what you’re seeing, your heart stops cold. Yoongi, pinned to the ground by a gravity field. Trow goblins, everywhere, screaming and chanting and hooting in a cacophony of noises. You can only watch on as he thrashes under the weight of the world, tears streaming down his face, voice raw and torn with desperation.

There’s a hellhound. Or rather, it is the hellhound, being hauled in. It’s a lot smaller, but the feral look in its eyes, the gleaming sharpness of its teeth--its very snarl haunts you. It looks so feral you keep on thinking it’s the real one, the apparition in his mind. You tense on instinct, forcing your tired limbs to go into action, but none seem any wiser to your presence. It’s a memory. This is where it all started. This is what happened.

You want to look away but you can’t; you tell yourself over and over again that you need to know about his past to understand who he is now, and of all the defining moments in his life, this is probably one of the most prominent. You keep on telling yourself this as he screeches in pain as they begin to chant the sealing ritual, as the hellhound snarls and roars…

But then when the hellhound lunges at you, and now you know that the time for learning and reminiscing is over, and the time once again fight for the future has come. You jump into action against the hellhound: one on one, bright rays of magic and dark, shadow claws, reaching out toward each other.

//

“Ugh.” Yoongi turns over to his side and groans again. “Ugh.”

“Well, it’s a promising start.” He cracks an eye open and sees Hoseok, leaning against a wall. You and Jimin, hovering over him worriedly. “At least he’s not blacked out anymore.”

“Ugh?” His tongue feels thick. His mind feels like it’s somewhere else. He can’t feel his body. Yoongi wants to form words but at the moment all he can do is grunt like a neantherdal. Absolutely thrilling.

“Progress, not perfection,” Namjoon comments. “How are you feeling? Jin just went out to get some medicine for you. He should be back…soon. Are you sure it was a good idea to send him and Jungkook out? I mean, with the beast and all, a three man cell might have been better…”

Taehyung shrugs. “I think they’ll be fine. They’re pretty strong, after all.”

“‘M fine,” Yoongi finally manages. It’s kind of a lie, since he really isn’t fine, but it’s pretty obvious. He simply says it just to let them know he’s actually capable of human speech. “Wh’ ‘append’?”

“Well, I found you passed out on the bathroom floor, and then we got Jungkook and Tae to drag you over onto the couch. Jin did some diagnosis thing on you, was disappointed you weren’t dead or dying, and went out with Kook to get some meds...as Namjoon just said. How are you feeling though, by the way? We were just planning to go monster hunting and everything too…”

“I’m living,” Yoongi says, feeling his body beginning to function. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

“Well that’s good,” Taehyung says, fiddling with something that looks all too suspiciously like a bomb. “How you feelin’ going out tonight, though? Want us to stay behind and--”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” Yoongi mutters. He gets up and holds a hand to his head, as if trying to keep his mind from spinning. It doesn’t really help, as expected. “Ugh.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Well, if that’s what--” He freezes. “Something’s coming. It’s really large and sinister and--” The walls of the room explode and crumble, debris flying everywhere. Someone’s grabs Yoongi and makes a run for it. Hoseok is probably screaming, but Yoongi can’t hear much past the loud ringing in his ears.

“IT’S THE BEAST!” Taehyung yells, his voice somehow miraculously coming through the loudness of everything crashing and the surprised, fearful sounds of people being attacked. “YOU GUYS GET YOONGI TO SAFETY--HOSEOK AND I WILL HOLD IT OFF!”

Yoongi wants to protest, but he finds that he’s still unable to really move himself to be useful. He feels so...useless. His arms are so heavy, as if they weighed him down, wanting to drag him down into the earth…

...the gravity mage lifts their hands up…

There’s so much noise around him it’s hard to follow. Screams, for the most part. The grunt and screech of failing steel. Stones crumbling. A cacophony of chaos.

...they form a ring around him, chanting, screaming, and hooting…

“Stop it,” Yoongi mumbles, wanting the memories to go away. He thought he was over this, done with being haunted.

“What did you say?” The person carrying him--Namjoon, he realizes--asks.

“He said ‘stop it,’” Jimin supplies. “I think.” A chunk of crumbling debris comes flying at him and, without even flinching, shoots it clean through, completely unbothered nor surprised when it implodes after a brief moment of hesitation. He runs a hand through his hair to brush away the dust.

“I can walk by myself,” Yoongi says, forcing his mind to focus on something else. He shakes his head slightly to get dust from his eyes. “You can let me down now.” He doesn’t mention that Namjoon’s scroll is kind of poking his stomach in an uncomfortable manner.

“Honey,” you say, tone a mix of condescension and desperation, “We need you to do more than just walking. Ya gotta run. And fight. And right now, you’re just mumbling to yourself on Namjoon’s back. Chill a minute, okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. To prove his point, he shadow flashes off of Namjoon’s back, takes a step forward, and--promptly falls flat on his face. You roll your eyes and drag him up by one arm, hastily shoving him towards Namjoon.

“Right.”

//

“I’m taking you out.”

You immediately stop walking. Teenage Yoongi continues down the path without you. “What? Why? But--”

“You may be feeling fine right now,” she says, “but in the real world, 8 hours have already passed. You need to eat, and we both need rest.”

“But will we--will we lose any progress or--?”

“I can’t really guarantee anything, but I’ve marked the memory so it’s easier to return to.”

“Well,” you say, watching Yoongi’s back fade fast. “Okay, then.”

//

It’s pitch black outside the window. Taehyung’s girlfriend looks exhausted as she stiffly gets up from the chair, moving over to draw the blinds. The room is empty. A styrofoam container of half-eaten food sits haphazardly on the edge of the counter, while an unopened container is right next to it, half-hidden through a plastic bag with a crumpled smiley face on it.

“Did the others leave?”

She nods, tired. “It’s 4 AM in the morning, and they all have jobs to get back to. Also, it’s way too crowded in here, so that’s a definite ward violation. Tae dropped by with food earlier.” She nods towards the bags. “Want some tea while we’re at it?”

“Uh,” you say, as she shoves the container unceremoniously towards you. “Sure.” She smiles and discards her gloves, heads out the room. The scent of greasy noodles and ginger sauce perfumes the air. Your stomach growls.

8 hours. You turn to your side and see Yoongi, lying peacefully on the bed next to you. You’re about to lean over to brush a stray hair away from his face when you feel a sudden, sharp, pain. What the fuck…? You try moving again and--can’t. It feels as if your body is on fire, burning down to your bones. It’s a deep aching, straight to the core and you find yourself powerless, exhausted, tired. Your legs feel like dead weight.

“It’s exhaustion.” Taehyung’s girlfriend pushes off from the doorframe. “Happens to everyone. Seems only your lower half and the side where you took a pretty nasty hit from were affected. It’s okay--you’re not actually in pain. It’s just some coping mechanism from the body. Your brain is making it all up.”

“Fantastic,” you say, sounding terribly unthrilled. “Even sealed away, the hellhound still manages to hurt me.” It’s a really sad attempt at a joke but in your defense, you’re tired. Really tired.

She shrugs and walks over to you. “Shit happens. Welcome to my profession. Mind reading isn’t all that it’s cracked out to be. Inner demons can be a real pain in the ass--which is why we don’t try to pull this shit often, if at all.”

You nod, feeling numb. You swallow your noodles without really registering their taste. “You know, I was thinking,” you muse. “That thing inside of him… Can he not fight it himself? I mean, Yoongi seems to be pretty damn capable so…”

She shakes her head and hands you steaming cup of rejuvenative tea. “No, because it is inside of him. Much as you cannot kill your own soul, he cannot rid this new part of his… subconscious. Only others are able to help him in this. That is why, no matter how hard he fights, he will always lose.”

“Oh.”

The room falls into silence as you mindlessly eat away at your food. Taehyung’s girlfriend finishes hers next to you, checks on Yoongi. Her expression doesn’t change. Finally, you finish, take a huge gulp of tea, and set your container and soiled utensils aside.

“I’m going back.” You announce, pausing to look at her. “Are you fine?”

She looks back at you, slightly bewildered. “Yeah, I’m fine but--already? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“More than ever. Plus, the more time I spend out here, the longer that Yoongi is… well, trapped.”

She nods and gently pushes you back, snapping on a pair of gloves shortly after. “Alright, I’m resuming the operation.”

//

Fully awake and borderline functional, Yoongi leans--heavily--against the sooty concrete wall of the underground tunnel. Breathing. Trying to keep it together when all he wants to do is pass the fuck out. Jimin checks, reloads his guns. You stand to the side, arms crossed. Alert. Namjoon studies the end of the tunnel, jaw clenched.

“What’s wro--”

“Namjoon! Jimin!” Yoongi finally notices it--the shifting silhouette of someone approaching them. Their voice echoes and reverberates inside his head, but he knows it, but he can’t seem to quite put his finger on it...

“Jungkook? That you?” Jimin still doesn’t let down with his guns, however. “What did you see last Tuesday?”

“A pink elephant,” says Jungkook, completing the code phrase and jogging from the shadows. Jimin relaxes. “Jin and I got attacked on the way to the pharmacy--we managed to escape the damned thing, and were just about to send a signal before, well, this happened.”

You nod. “Where’s Jin, then?”

“Up ground, providing backup. We need to split up--the civilians are running around in total chaos up there.”

“What about the beast? What’s its status?” Yoongi prods. Jungkook shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

“Last time I saw, Hoseok, Jin, and Tae were holding it off, but the thing kept on changing forms and shit, just like you said… Anyways, ideas, Joon? You’re the strategist, after all.”

Namjoon presses his lips in a tighter, thinner line. “________, how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Little bit breathless from the running, if that counts as anything.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Okay, so I want you and Jungkook to go up to help with evac--your scouts are going to be critical to this mission. Make sure you leave not a single crevice unturned; someone may be trapped under debris. And Jeon, your heightened senses will also be useful as well. Try to avoid conflict--the civilians are priority for you two.”

“Got it.” You nod. Right as you leave, Yoongi notices you pause, shoot him a worried look. He finds himself hating it. It already hurts enough to see you go and leave him, but that look...god he wish he could wipe it off your face. Let you know that he’s fine. That there’s no reason to worry and hurt over him anymore. Instead, he remains passive.

“You’ll fine, right?”

Yoongi grunts. “Yeah. I’ve got two kids babysitting me, after all.”

“Hey--”

Jimin’s complaint is cut off by your laughter, light and breathless. “Well, I’ll see you later then.”

And with that, you and Jungkook are gone, running off into the shadows of the tunnel. Namjoon turns to him, Jimin offers a shoulder for Yoongi to sling an arm over. He declines.

“Okay, so our job is to get you to safety,” Namjoon informs, as if that much wasn’t already obvious.

“I don’t need two people--”

“Yoongi,” Jimin cuts in, running hand through his tousled hair. “It’s not just you. All of us had agreed--while you were passed the fuck out, mind you--that the thing out there is somehow connected to you. It’s like it’s trying to seek you out, or whatever.”

“What do you mea--”

“I’d like to get a move on, now,” Namjoon says. He grabs Yoongi roughly on the arm, practically dragging him down the tunnel. “If I remember correctly, this used to be an old subway track…”

As Namjoon drones on, Jimin narrows his eyes at Yoongi, a silent warning to just shut up and go along with it because it’s for your sake, dammit. Yoongi simply glares back defiantly. On the bright side, he supposes, at least he’s finally managed to walk/run properly without needing to worry about not falling on his face.

“...careful to not get run over by--LOOK OUT!”

Namjoon’s warning comes too late, however, as the tunnel ceiling spontaneously bursts open, blocks of concrete and dust flying everywhere. Yoongi just barely manages to whip out a blade, slicing a chunk in two right before it can crush his skull. The smoke and debris have just barely settled before a shadowy, fast-moving shape snarls and pounces towards him.

Without even a second thought, Yoongi shadow flashes away, vaguely aware of Namjoon’s shouts and the explosive bangs of Jimin’s gunshots. The beast snarls and jumps towards him again, Namjoon yells something again, Jimin dives to the side and then a wall of glowing runes shoot out of nowhere, blocking the thing’s advance.

“YOONGI, RUN!”

Yoongi wants to protest, yell back that he’s not some coward, but he knows why they’re so desperate to protect him. Even though he feels much better, he’s in no condition to fight. With him so close to the danger and on the verge of insanity, he’d only be dragging Namjoon and Jimin down rather than helping… He grits his teeth.

“HURRY UP YOU ASS!” Namjoon’s perspiring, hard. “I CAN’T HOLD ON FOR MUCH LONGER!”

With one last spiteful glare, Yoongi turns, and runs. He doesn’t even know where the hell he’s going, if it’s the right way, or where the exit is. All he knows is that he’s running away from all his problems just as he’s always done and the voice inside his head is railing against the confines of his mind, yelling at him to go face it. The more rational side of him reminds Yoongi of his exhausted body, the fact that he’s only been running for two minutes and already his lungs are burning.

A wretched, twisted screech echoes from behind him, and Yoongi wills himself to not think about it, don’t think about it, they’re fine, they’ve been through worse, we’ve all been through worse… He takes a turn, mindless, on autopilot. The tunnel is narrower, dimly lit. He doesn’t think this is the right way but it’s too late and there’s no turning back--or so he tells himself.

There’s another shudder from the ground--or was it from above? He doesn’t know anymore. Yoongi pauses, stops to catch his breath--gosh he’s panting so hard--and, to his horror, notices that the shadows of the tunnel aren’t just shadows anymore. They’re turning into beady-eyed, nightmarish creatures, hissing and growling.

“What the fuck are you guys, and what the fuck is happening?”

In response, they fly right at him. Sadly, it was more or less of the response he was expecting--it seems that many things have been preferring actions over words today.

He fights them, slashing endlessly at the shadows--because that’s what they are, right? He has no idea anymore. A part of him is beginning to believe that none of them actually exist, and that this is just some sick hallucination… but who cast the hallucination? Yoongi realizes that he doesn’t quite want to know--the illusion casters are always the craziest, he’s learned--and continues to battle the creatures of darkness.

They disappear, one by one, slash by slash, melding back into the shadows as Yoongi wills himself ever forward.

//

Through fighting the hellhound, you also learn a lot about Yoongi. You learn about the way he looks when he smiles, that he often turns his head to the side or looks down to conceal his grins. He never laughs anymore because he’s constantly haunted, but he tries, really tries, when he’s alone and feels that there’s so much more to live for.

He and Jimin and Hoseok have known each other for a long time; the duo would scheme and play and always make sure to drag a disgruntled Yoongi along. He meets the others through some way or another, either from interactions during missions or run-ins on the way to the mental ward.

You learn he always has a bored look on his face when others speak to him because he wants them to think he doesn’t care when he really actually does. He’s kind and caring and after every supplementary lesson or mission debrief he’s sure to push in the chairs just to make sure others don’t trip and fall. He wanted to take a mission far away not only to conceal his secret but also protect the ones he loves.

“Yoongi,” you say, watching him pour syrup over his pancakes. “You’re so much more than the monster you think you are.”

He doesn’t hear you, of course. He continues to tend to his pancakes, cutting them into small pieces and stuffing them in his mouth. Your stomach clenches and you feel a strong wave of nostalgia and longing wash over you; how you would kill--literally--to return to those days again. In which mornings meant going down to get breakfast and not a visit to the hospital to check on his comatose body.

From the wall, the hellhound emerges and snarls. Your fingers twitch. You continue to look at Yoongi. He looks so calm and collected. Healthy. His cheeks are not sunken, his features are not gaunt. His pale face is pristine and not littered with cuts and bruises.

As the hellhound rushes at you, eyes trained on your beating heart, you resolve to bring him back.

Yoongi…

I’m coming for you.

//

Yoongi whirls around, eyes wide.

I’m coming for you.

“________?” He says, testily. He edges along the narrow corridor, not really sure what he just heard. It was your voice, no doubt, but he was pretty sure you were on the upper levels, working with Jungkook to help out the citizens. Or were you with Hoseok? Yoongi groans. God, it hurts so much: his arm, his side, his brain. He’s almost certain he’s cracked a few ribs--if not broken one--ruptured an organ or something, and did something to his right arm.

There’s no answer to his call and he isn’t surprised; considering the fact that he’s lost all contact with his friends for who knows how long, he’s pretty much resigned to the idea that they’ve all disappeared. He’s experienced much stranger.

Another shadow-thing lunges at him--how many has it been? How far has he made it? Is this even the right way? There are too many questions, and no answers. With a tired swing of his good arm, Yoongi manages to dispel the beast, takes a step forward, and watches the world spin.

It wavers and blurs and turns upside down… He lands on the ground with a thud. Black, black, the world is fading to black, and the only thing that comes to mind is silent gratitude that at least it isn’t red...

//

As usual, you have no idea where you are. But unlike usual, you can’t find Yoongi.

“What the hell?”

Obviously, it doesn’t make sense. You can’t just exist in a memory that he doesn’t seem to have, and yet you are. Standing, confused, on the sidewalk of an eerie, peculiar city. A shudder runs through the ground, something big and loud crumbles in the distance. Commotion and chaos. Eyes wide, you turn towards the source, seeing only smoke and dust rising from an area blocks away.

“Well,” the mind reader cuts in. “Who knew that following the damned thing would lead us straight into his subconscious of all places.”

You furrow your brow, break into a run. You can clearly hear the screams of the anguished, now. “What do you mean? Weren’t we always in his subconscious…?”

“Yeah but like we’ve been in his memories,” she explains. You’re two blocks away. More crumbling, more chaos. Anxious, you charm yourself to run faster. “This is like, his subconscious subconscious. Like, you know, where the mind and soul exist.”

“Um, sure.” You’re pretty sure her words would make more sense if you could actually register them and concentrate on something other than dying civilians, demonic hellhounds, and Yoongi’s safety.

“Like, you know. You know how you’re always talking in your head? Or like, when you’re thinking of all these random situations, and daydreaming? This is where it happens. All the background stuff happens elsewhere.”

“Oh,” you reply, after a pause. “So what does that mean? For me? For him?”

“It means you better find him before the hellhound does.”

“What?”

“If the hellhound gets him right here, then it’s game over. The beast wins. Takes over the mind.” A shudder racks your body.

No fucking pressure.

“Uh,” you say. “Do you know where he is? This place is friggin’ huge.”

“I’m trying,” she tells you. “He feels so faint, though… It’s barely enough to tell me he’s alive. He may be unconscious, but…”

“But what?” You’re in the middle of the chaos right now, but whenever you try to step towards a person, they disappear. Step back. They’re back again, screaming and bleeding out on the pavement. You chalk it up to “weird mind things.”

“The hellhound’s presence is really strong. It’s making it hard to sense him.”

“So,” you say, “where’s the hellhound then? If I just eliminate it before it gets to Yoongi--”

“Under you.”

“Huh?” She doesn’t reply, so you decide to take her directions literally. You hope you’re not making a mistake--especially as you concentrate all your power into a dense ball of energy and beam it straight into the ground… you try to control your shriek as you fall into the wide opening, rocks and dust and darkness everywhere.

You twist and turn and land harshly on your feet. Your ankle doesn’t feel right. It’s probably just sprained--manageable. Inside the tunnel--or whatever it actually is--water and slime run silently down the curved walls. Soot lines streak across the concrete. It’s filthy and smells like mold.

“So,” you say, straightening up, dusting off your clothes. “Where is it now?”

No response.

Fan-fucking-tastic. With a grunt of resignation, a pause, and a nod of your head, you summon forth a scout. Two would be ideal, but unfortunately you’re a bit low on power… And you need to save some for your inevitable clash with the hellhound. For like, the fifth time. By now you’ve got a good idea of its attack patterns--but even that knowledge doesn’t quite mitigate its destructive power.

After a moment’s contemplation, you decide to send the scout into a dark and narrow corridor--like hell you’re going in there alone--and decide to walk down the main tunnel. You search and scheme at the same time. Strategize, lay out your plans. When the thing rears its ugly head, it’s going to pounce and then shapeshift. Or shapeshift and then pounce. Counter by aiming for its exposed neck. If it dodges--which is probably will--then get back. Prepare for next advance.

Light from above shines into your eyes. You blink rapidly...wait. Light. It’s a dark tunnel, so why--oh. You tilt your head up and are met with yet another hole, from which the early morning sky peeks through. The red rays of the sun just barely make it in.

If there’s a hole… You frown. There is no debris. No chunks of concrete. It’s as if someone completely vaporized a hole right into the tunnel… except there are fissures across the ceiling tell of a forced impact…

//

A soft tinkling noise momentarily pulls Yoongi from his stupor. He cracks open an eye and sees--a fairy.

What.

The fairy makes a tinkling noise and doesn’t disappear. He’s done it. He’s gone and crossed the line separating the sane and insane. He’s delirious. Why the fuck is there a fairy here? The thing flutters its sparkly, bright wings. Yoongi blinks. It’s gone.

Yeah, he decides, as his eyes flutter closed. Absolutely delirious.

//

Your scout has found Yoongi, which is good. But that also means the hellhound has also-probably-almost found Yoongi--considering you were told it was supposedly down here--which is, of course, bad.

You curse under your breath at your slowed pace, how the annoying pain in your ankle won’t stop and how the speed charm is starting to wear off. Anxiety gnaws at your stomach as the seconds tick by--will you make it in time? Where is the hellhound? Are you--?

“Are we almost there?” you ask. The scout tinkles. “Almost? You mean we’re almost-almost there?” Another tinkle. Yes. You roll your eyes. The fae always did have a peculiar way of saying things… You push onwards, squinting your eyes in the growing darkness of the corridor.

“How was he? Is he okay? What was he doin--”

You choke on your own words when you feel a ripping pain on your leg, stumbling forward. Blood is gushing from the cut but you haven’t the time to think about it, not when the shadows are turning on you, merging together into a conglomerate mass…

The hellhound makes a terrifying noise that’s a cross between a horrific screech and a guttural growl, its eyes unfocused and searching for a point past you. As it makes to charge you over, you retaliate by shooting open one of its paws.

As it howls, you turn to the scout. “Yoongi--he’s just past me, isn’t he?” It nods. And that’s all the confirmation you need to face the damned thing full on.

“It’s just us two,” you say, lowly, leaning heavily on your good leg. “And we’re going to settle all of this now.”

//

Light fades. All there is the darkness of the corridor--so dark that even fairy dust seems dull and faded. Blood and rubble, concrete smashed into a million pieces, decorate the inside. Smoke perfumes the air.

It takes everything inside you to not collapse; you plaster yourself to the wall in an effort to keep yourself upright, trying to remember what the consequences of dying in someone’s subconscious would be. Alarmed, the scout tries in vain to help. It tinkles frantically.

“Take me…,” you say, gasping, heaving, “Take me to him...we’ve gotta, we’ve gotta go. Home. Gotta go home, together.”

Solemnly, it guides you, pastel wings glowing bright in the darkness of the underground.

//

Yoongi. Yoongi.

He opens his eyes and sees you, hovering over him, which is weird because he could’ve sworn you’d disappeared just like all the others… His day just kept on getting weirder and weirder, didn’t it? Speaking of which, today seems to have gone on forever...would it ever end? Or maybe, just maybe, is this the end?

“Yoongi,” you call again, shaking him. He blinks languidly, dazedly up at you. A million questions swim through his mind but he hasn’t the energy to even begin to speak--hell, even breathing is becoming a labor-intensive activity.

“Yoongi, answer me,” you prod. Numbly he feels you try to pick him up, carefully handling his wounded body. He coughs lightly in response, trying to find his voice.

“Are you okay?” you try. Then, under your breath, you berate yourself. “No, no, of course you aren’t, otherwise you’d be snarking my ass.”

He reaches out to tug on your arm, just to make sure you’re real and he isn’t suffering any delusions. You look up at him, slightly surprised, at the contact. He stares at his hands, the fingertips that graze ever-so-slightly against your skin.

“________?” His voice is a hoarse, dry, cracked excuse of what it once was, but it still gets the message across. Your face softens, expression going from serious to--to relieved, or something.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He furrows his brows, feeling himself become less numb, limbs thawing out by the second. “W-Why are you here?”

You smile. “I’m here to take you home.”

“Home?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice sounding increasingly distant. His vision is blurring. He feels himself drifting off and he can’t hold on any longer…

We’re going back home together, Yoongi.

UPDATE TAG LIST: @babydanixox

a/n: hi i would just like to say that: if anyone can find a cure to the endless amount of salt i have that would be greatly appreciated

also sorry this took so long. almost done...

[pocket-anon]

A Fairytale Beginning (6/9)

OMG, you guys, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I took this long to get this chapter out.  This 8k monster gave me serious grief with the writing and re-writing and overthinking and gnashing of teeth it took to get it to this point.  Fair warning, I’m going on my 4th day of sleeping less than 5 hours a night, so there may be a little clean-up of typos and wording going on later.  A million thanks to @katie-dub for being my sounding board for the diner scene, to @i-know-how-you-kiss for letting me whine to her repeatedly about how badly this chapter was kicking my butt, and to the rest of you for waiting so very patiently with nothing but supportive words.  XOXO

Find it on AO3 and FFN.  Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  Killian Jones, the notorious Captain Hook, has been on a quest to kill the Dark One and avenge the death of his first love for over one hundred fifty years. But when he crosses the Evil Queen, he’s magically transported to New York City, a strange land full of fascinating wonders, the foremost of which is Emma Swan, a cynical single mother with no time for fairy tales, real or imagined. A Captain Swan Enchanted AU.   (Captain Swan modern AU, Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance & Adventure.  Rated T.)

Tags as requested: @timetravelingpotatoast, @piratesails, @storybrookeswans, @optomisticgirl

Emma waits until Granny returns with matching plates brimming with grilled cheese cut into triangles and piles of golden onion rings.  She flashes a muted smile of thanks at the older woman, and Granny gives them a subtle smirk as she sets a glass ketchup bottle directly between their plates and disappears.

Emma snatches the bottle up by the neck and twists off the cap while she gathers her thoughts, unsure how much she wants to reveal.  Killian watches her shake out a dollop onto her plate and then accepts the bottle when she hands it to him, studying it before proceeding to mimic her with an adorable amount of caution.

A tiny smile tugs at Emma’s mouth, but she briskly turns back to the matter at hand and clears her throat.  As always, the first onion ring she touches is just shy of too hot to touch and just greasy enough to be tempting, and she dips it with a little sigh.  “Walsh proposed,” she says quietly, taking a bite to give herself an excuse not to say anything else immediately.

The ketchup bottle pauses in midair, and she doesn’t need to see Killian’s face to know that he’s frowning when he sets it down with a soft thunk.  “I see,” he says, sounding politely interested.

Emma keeps her eyes fixed on her plate as she eats.  “Yesterday.  Just before I met you and Henry at the library.”

Killian hesitates, as though trying to read her.  “And you didn’t say yes?” he risks casually.

She glances up for a second at the tempting cakes and pies on display in a Plexiglas case sitting across from them before her gaze falls back to her food, her lashes brushing her cheeks.  “I didn’t say no.”

He waits for her to continue, forearms braced on either side of his plate, his food yet untouched.

Emma heaves a deep sigh and tucks a loose lock of hair over her ear.  “I don’t have a great track record with men,” she admits, her gaze rotating toward the ceiling, “But…”  She closes her eyes and scrunches up her face as she tries to figure out how to explain herself without showing too much of her hand. “Things were… rough… back when I had Henry, and I’ve worked really hard to be able to give him a normal, stable life with a home and a family,” she says haltingly, playing in the ketchup with her half-eaten onion ring.  “And now I have Walsh, and he’s great, and this is supposed to be the dream, right? “ she asks, her voice growing earnest, "To have a nice guy want to marry you and be a dad to your kid?”  She chuckles bitterly.  “Only a crazy person would hesitate.”

Killian processes her words, his brow furrowed, a finger poking at one of his onion rings before picking it up to examine it.  “He didn’t seem displeased this morning,” he points out, taking an experimental bite and then going back for more.

She laughs dryly.  “Of course he didn’t,” she replies, rolling her eyes.  “Because he’s perfect like that.”  The annoyance in her tone is poorly disguised.

Killian dares to grin. “You don’t like that he’s perfect?”

“I just said I was crazy.” She shoves the remainder of her onion ring vindictively into her cheek, chews, and swallows.  “And the worst part is that Walsh knows that.  He knows what a train wreck I am in relationships.  But he’s just so patient.  He never gets mad or worked up over anything.”

Killian hums.  “And that bothers you?”

Emma pauses.  “A little,” she decides, her brow wrinkling.

“Why?”

She bites her lip and blinks down at her plate, deep in thought.  “I… I don’t know.”  She toys with another onion ring and sighs.  “Maybe because it proves he deserves better than me.”

Killian snorts, and she looks up at him sharply.  “I realize we haven’t known each other long, Swan, but I seriously doubt that,” he says. “You may have been abandoned and suffer from a serious lack of trust, but you’re still a bloody brilliant woman.” He smiles quietly before looking away. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Emma flushes only a little at the compliment, instead shifting on her stool so she’s angled to face him, one elbow braced on the counter.  “Who said anything about being abandoned?” she asks coolly, suspicion creeping into her voice.

He shrugs.  “You’re something of an open book,” he tells her, popping another onion ring into his mouth.

“Am I?” she challenges.

He hums low in affirmation.  “I’m spent many years in Neverland, home of the Lost Boys. They all share the same look in their eyes,” he says, tipping his head toward her and meeting her gaze shrewdly.  “The look you get when you’ve been left alone.”

Emma scrutinizes him back, desperately seeking a hint of dishonesty and, as always, finding none.  Her heart pounds.  Who the hell is this guy?  And, weird fantasies aside, how is it that he seems to get inside her head so effortlessly?  She’s worked hard to maintain her emotional armor, to build up her protective façade, and he just waltzes in and looks straight through it like it’s not there. “Yeah, well,” she turns away, perturbed, “My world ain’t Neverland.”  She seizes a half-sandwich and tucks in, grateful when he doesn’t push the topic further and allows her to at least make a lame attempt to hide behind her grilled cheese.

Killian follows suit, sounding an indecent groan of approval as he contemplates the taste of the buttery, toasted bread and warm, gooey cheese.  He makes quick work of it, boyishly wolfing his sandwich down with the enthusiasm of a starving prisoner of war.

Emma watches him eat, helpless to suppress a small, amused grin as he swallows his last bite and sweeps his thumb along the corner of his mouth to brush away a few errant crumbs that linger there in his scruff.  “Good?” she asks.

“Mm.”  He wipes his fingers on a paper napkin.  “This realm does some excellent things with food.” He reaches for his coffee, his face splitting into a smile as the mug nears his lips.  “Between that and the company, it’s quite the best meal I’ve had in a long time,” he remarks with a wink.

There it is again – his uncanny ability to make her feel both gratified and self-conscious as a school girl.  She chuffs, her cheeks pinking as she bemoans his stupidly attractive face and her stomach flips for the hundredth time.  Truthfully, she’d spent as much time last night trying to banish her unwanted thoughts about Killian as she had freaking out about Walsh.  Not that she’d mention that.  To anyone.  Ever.

Emma coughs weakly.  “So. Fair is fair,” she announces, raising what remains of her grilled cheese to her mouth.  “Now you know why I was up.  It’s your turn.”

A tiny wrinkle mars the spot between his eyes, his jovial demeanor fading.  “As you wish, love.”  He dips his head in acknowledgement.  “But allow me one more question.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” she chuckles with a little shake of her head, taking a bite.

“You don’t have to answer it.”

Emma pauses mid-chew and gives him a perplexed glance.  He stares back at her calmly, and she swallows.  “Fine.”

He taps a finger thoughtfully on the counter.  “Could it be that the fact your man never gets upset bothers you because you want to know that he thinks your relationship is worth fighting for?”

That’s… that’s…  Emma slowly crumples up her napkin and drops it on her plate.  That’s… not crazy.  She frowns, actually taken by how not-crazy it sounds.  How could a man who knows so little of her have come up with such a plausible explanation so quickly?  Walsh sometimes jokes that she’s his great enigma, but Killian… nothing about her seems to confuse him.  Or deter him from saying things that make her heart flutter.   “I… I think we’ve established that I’m terrible at knowing what I want,” she reminds him with a nervous laugh.

“Well, I know what you want,” Granny volunteers, walking up and pulling the apple pie out of the display case without waiting for an answer. “You want pie.”  She shuttles their empty plates away and reaches for clean plates and silverware.

Emma gives a relieved chuckle, grateful for the distraction.  There’s no doubt that Granny has been eavesdropping on their entire conversation – the woman’s ability to hear every word spoken in her diner is almost preternatural.  “How do you know?”

“Because you, my dear, love my pie,” Granny points out matter-of-factly, not bothering to look up as she dishes up two pieces.

“You’ve also looked at that pie no less than five times since we sat down, Swan,” Killian adds with a knowing smile.

Emma swivels her head toward him incredulously.

Granny grins and hands them both plates, catching Emma’s eye and then shooting a pointed look at Killian with an expression that screams, “I told you so.”  

Is the whole world conspiring to make her life more complicated?  “Thanks, Yenta,” Emma says flatly, arcing an eyebrow at her traitorous old friend.

“Mm-hmm.”  Granny hums triumphantly and walks away, completely unrepentant.

Emma gives a long-suffering sigh and shakes her head, reaching for her fork.  “Anyway,” she says, “I believe it was your turn.” She glances down at the sleeve that hides Killian’s tattoo and then back up at him as she puts the first piece of dessert in her mouth.

Killian’s grin dissipates like smoke, the laughter leaving his eyes.  He nods.  “Very well.”  He taps the golden, flaky, sugar-crusted surface of his pie with the tines of his fork.  “Milah,” he says grimly, “Was the woman I loved.”  A small, sad smile pulls at his lips.  “She was beautiful and passionate and curious…” his voice grows nostalgic, “And I invited her to come see the world with me the first time we met.” He pauses a beat, lost in his thoughts, before he sucks in a breath and his thick eyebrows lift with regret.  “But she had a husband,” he continues, his back straightening, “and a son, and she did the honorable thing and stayed with them.”  

There’s the clink of metal on ceramic as he stabs the pie with his fork.  “Her marriage, however, was not a happy one, and in the end, she was so miserable that she begged me to take her away.”  He shrugs helplessly. “I was in love with her.  How could I refuse?”  He hazards a glance at Emma, his eyes shining with bittersweet memories.  “I taught her how to survive out at sea, made her my first in command, and we sailed the world as I had promised.  We had nearly ten years together aboard my ship, and they passed like a dream.”  

After his first bite of pie, he clears his throat.  "And then her husband found us,“ he says, his countenance darkening like a thunderhead. “But by then he was no longer a man.  He’d been transformed into a being we call the Dark One, an immortal of immense magical power.”  Deep creases appear on Killian’s brow.  “I tried to protect her.  I asked her to hide when I went to face him, but it was easy for him to overwhelm me, and when he threatened my life, Milah tried to strike a deal with him to spare it. In the end, he killed her – ripped her heart out and crushed it right in front of my eyes.  And then he took my hand.”  His voice is dangerously low now.  He inhales slowly, steadying himself, his expression stony when he looks back up at Emma’s horrified face.  “Pain is terrible, Swan, but sometimes it gives us purpose.  I’ve spent a century and a half seeking revenge on the demon.  I made my deal with the Evil Queen for the magic compass so that I’d have a way to locate the one weapon that can kill him.”

Emma’s eyes pinch warily.  “Did you say ‘a century and a half’?”

“The magic of Neverland keeps its inhabitants from growing old,” he says with a grave smile.  “And I was there at Pan’s mercy for a very, very long time.”

She fidgets in her seat. Convinced as she should be that the world Killian describes does not exist, none of this new information ought to give her any pause, really.  But there’s still something incredibly unnerving about how easily he talks about his imaginary life - something about having this young, handsome, intelligent, charming man tell her that he’s over one hundred and fifty years old in the same tone he’d use to casually inform her of the time of day - that she finds increasingly sad.  A little part of her has wondered from the start whether it could all be true, but the more time she spends with Killian, the more she wishes she could believe him and the more disappointed she is that she can’t.

Emma gives herself a mental shake and forces herself back to reality.  She’s well-versed in disappointment.  There’s nothing to do but move on.  She wonders if she can get Killian to share something useful that will help her search for Milah’s obituary or death certificate, help her find the real woman behind his story. “Did Milah have a last name?” she asks.  

He shakes his head. “No.  Last names are not common in the region she was from.”

She tries again.  “And her husband?” she asks.  "What was his name?  You know…“ she hesitates awkwardly, "Before.”

“Rumpelstiltskin,” he growls, the word a quiet curse on his tongue.

Seriously?  “Seriously?”  She blanches.  “The little guy who turns straw into gold and steals babies?”

Killian laughs so harshly that, for a moment, she has no trouble imagining him as a dreaded pirate captain, as Hook. “That barely scratches the surface, love.  Whatever your stories say about Rumpelstiltskin, I seriously doubt they chronicle the extent of his dark deeds.”

Emma falls quiet for a bit, chasing the last few pie crumbs around the plate with her fork.  Her mind is a muddle of confused thoughts, but one in particular begins to eat at her. “So, you’re telling me you’ve spent… all this time… wanting nothing but vengeance?” she asks at last.

Killian answers with a bereaved smile.  “Everyone needs a dream, Swan.  And Milah’s gone.  What other dream do have I left?”

The way his blue eyes swim with mournful acceptance pulls at her heart, and he looks very different without the swagger and confident cheerfulness he normally exudes.  Maybe she’s not the only one to wear armor.  “That sounds like a lonely way to live,” she says quietly.

He seems surprised by her insight, the last vestiges of anger melting out of his expression as he blinks and licks his lips.  “Aye.”

The vulnerability in his voice chips away at her self-control.  Against her better judgment, she tentatively reaches out and gives his forearm a small squeeze.  She hears his breath hitch ever so slightly at her touch, sees his eyebrows skyrocket, and for a moment she panics that she’s gone too far.  Then his muscles relax beneath her fingers, and a look of solemn gratitude creeps over his face.  Emma’s mouth crooks upward in return, and, his delusions aside, she starts to wonder if his miraculous ability to read her is simply a matter of one lost soul recognizing another.

*                             *                             *

The gemologist’s laboratory is a fifteen minute walk from Granny’s.  Killian strides eagerly beside her as she leads him to 5th Avenue, passing half a dozen storefronts filled with jewels.  Emma notices his awe as they pass each brightly-lit display full of sparkling stones.  “They call this the Diamond District,” she informs him.

“No doubt why.”  He imagines what his crew would do if confronted with so much temptation and shakes his head.  “How do they protect themselves from thieves?”

Emma arches an eyebrow at him.  “Getting ideas?”

He chuckles. “Hardly, Swan.  Merely professional interest.  When you work with other pirates, protecting one’s loot is as important as being able to acquire it in the first place.”

She rolls her eyes. “They have detailed security systems – motion detectors, advanced safes, surveillance cameras, you name it,” she explains.  “Successful robberies from stores like these are few and far between.”  Emma snorts.  “Honestly, the biggest thefts that happen in this city are committed by bankers on Wall Street.  Power and corruption is kind of a classic combo.”

Killian hums resentfully. “Now that is a concept I understand all too well.”

Though the building Emma takes him to is ornamented and grand and towers above most of the others on the block, inside, the office of the appraiser is a relatively small, much more modest-looking space characterized by utilitarian surfaces in white and gray.  They enter a small waiting area, and Emma points Killian toward a handful of cushioned chairs along one wall.  He obliges and watches her approach the woman seated behind the tall counter opposite him.  

“Hi,” she says, “We have an appointment?  Emma Swan.”

The woman gives a courteous nod and murmurs that someone will be right with them.  Emma retreats to the chair next to him, unzipping her jacket and crossing her legs restlessly. Glancing sideways, she plucks a glossy booklet off the small table next to her and begins to leaf through it, only to come across an article about engagement rings that prompts her to toss the booklet back down and shift uncomfortably in her seat.

As though her discomfort is catching, Killian’s knee begins to bob.  He swallows and forces it to still.  He’s being ridiculous.  He shouldn’t care about Emma’s relationship.  It’s none of his bloody business, after all.  No matter how high his regard for her, she’s only a friend, a passing acquaintance.  Her past, whatever the details, has clearly left her world-weary and skittish, and he sees nothing surprising about her hesitation to accept Walsh’s proposal.  He sighs inwardly.  There’s no doubt in his mind that Walsh is getting the better end of the deal, but Emma’s boyfriend seems a decent man nevertheless, and Killian cannot fault her desire for a stable father figure in Henry’s life.  She’s trying to do right by her son, and he deeply respects that.  Gods help him, it’s more than his father ever did for him and more than he and Milah ever managed to accomplish for Baelfire.

Milah.  His gut twists with guilt.  He’s thought of her infrequently since his arrival in New York, preoccupied as he’s been with Emma and Henry and the marvels of this place.  After countless nights staring out across the waves or up at the beams above his berth wondering if he’ll ever be able to truly let her go, if there will ever be a time in his life when her face won’t haunt him, this, this feels like the closest he’s ever gotten.   But as much as he’s resented being held captive so long by her memory and the ache of missing her, it occurs to him now that gaining his freedom probably means allowing the last piece of her (and a big piece of himself) to die.  Apprehension floods his chest.  He wonders what moving on would do to his thirst for vengeance.  After everything he’s done to pursue the bloody Dark One, could he find it in himself to simply give up his mission?  What would be his purpose then?  He glances sadly at Emma.  What other dream does he have left, indeed?

A weighty-looking gray door hung with the seal of the Gemological Appraisal Laboratory of America swings open at one end of the waiting area, and short, stout man appears. He has a mop of wiry silver hair that sticks up in places, a bulbous nose, and large ears, and he wears a mossy green sweatervest.  “Emma Swan?”

Emma pops out of her seat, and Killian follows.

The little man smiles up at her and shakes her hand.  “Hal Johanson.  Come on back.”

He leads them to an office with a wide desk laden with devices.  Killian recognizes a computer similar to Emma’s sitting next to a tall, odd-looking contraption with dual eyepieces.  A giant lamp on a long, jointed metal arm is also present next to the computer, and officious documents line the walls.  The nearest to him is emblazoned with the words “New York University” and confers Halstein Johanson with a Doctorate in Mineralogy (whatever that means).  

Emma, too glances, at the wall hangings.  “That’s a lot of diplomas and certificates,” she chuckles. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were over-qualified.”

Hal smiles, settling himself into the seat behind his desk and motioning for them to assume the chairs opposite him.  “I’m a retired mineralogy professor, but retirement was boring, so I do this part-time now.” He shrugs cheerfully, taking an audible sip from a coffee mug that features a photo of him and a little copper-haired girl making silly faces and labels him “World’s Best Grand-Pabbie.”  “What can I say?  I love rocks.”

Emma’s mouth quirks into a charmed smile.

“Speaking of which,” he continues, “I believe you have one for me to look at?”

“Aye.”  Killian pulls the Sea Star out and passes it across the desk.

Hal’s dark eyes grow round as dinner plates.  “Holy…” His lips part in bewilderment, bushy eyebrows knitting together as he stares down at the gem in his hand and then up at them.  

Emma tenses and sits forward in her seat.  “Do you think it’s real?” she asks.

The old man holds the jewel so close to his nose that his eyes nearly cross and turns it slowly around, examining it from every angle.  “Very,” he mutters at length, nodding eagerly.  “Where did you get this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Killian can see Emma pale, and he takes her look of misgiving as a hint that he should avoid telling the tale of his battle with the sea hag.  He offers Hal an easy smile.  “It was in an underwater cave,” he replies lightly.

“Where?  Australia?”  Hal scoots his chair over to the device with dual eyepieces and presses a switch on one side.  A small but very intense light shines to life in the center of the machine, bathing a square black platform below in its glow.  The professor glances at Killian questioningly before setting the opal down on the platform and leaning forward to peer down through the lenses.

Killian turns his head to Emma, who manages a subtle nod.  “Uh, indeed.”

Hal adjusts a few knobs and whistles low.  “This is the most amazing opal I’ve ever seen in person,” he breathes.  “I can see why you’d think it might be synthetic, as big as it is,” he continues without lifting his gaze, “But this is most certainly the real thing.”  The corners of his eyes pinch with joy.  “Just gorgeous.  Look at this play of color…  And the brilliance…  Lovely floral pattern…”  He sighs elatedly.  “I need a few more minutes to be sure, but there don’t even appear to be any faults in it.”

“Faults?” Emma echoes.

“Em, imperfections,” he clarifies, shifting the stone slightly on the platform to examine another section.  “Cracks, patches where the color is missing, gray or brown lines running across the surface, that sort of thing.”

Killian leans forward. “It can crack?” he asks, his face growing intent.

“Oh, yes.”  Hal’s head bobs.  “Opals are more fragile than most gemstones,” he explains, shifting the jewel again.  “They have about the same hardness as glass.  It doesn’t take much to scratch or damage them.  You have to take some care.”  He pauses his evaluation long enough to fix them with a stern look.  “You must avoid abrasive cleaners or chemicals.  And you must never, ever put this in one of those ultrasonic jewelry cleaners.  A crack in a stone such as this wouldn’t just dramatically decrease its value, it’d be a travesty,” he shudders.  

Killian nods slowly, not understanding all of the words the man is using, but getting the general idea. He swallows, a wisp of hope rising within him.  The stone is prone to scratching and cracking, just like glass, and while scratching or cracking the stone is a far cry from destroying it, the news still bodes well.

“Now,” Hal says, pushing his chair back from the desk.  “I suppose we should get to the information you really want.”  He smiles knowingly and pulls the Sea Star out from his machine.  “Let’s figure out what this beauty is worth, shall we?”  He hefts it in his hand, his face shining with excitement.  “I wager this stone weighs…” his eyes narrow, “250 carats.  Give or take.”  He sets the Star atop a small machine with a round metallic surface and presses a button, crowing triumphantly as a number appears in a small window.  “257.8!  My stars!” The little man cackles with delight, reaching for a pen and scratching out a calculation on a piece of paper.

Killian forces a wooden smile. As a pirate, the monetary value of the stone would ordinarily be the only thing he’d care about.  But he already knows what the Sea Star is truly worth – thousands of innocent lives – and even he is willing to recognize that no amount of treasure is worth that cost.  

Hal completes his scribbles and taps the tip of his pen to the paper resolutely, his expression euphoric. He retrieves the opal from the scale and stares at it dreamily, a happy sigh escaping his lips as he holds the paper out to Killian between the fingers of his other hand.  “If you’re feeling generous, a piece like this really belongs in a museum.  You could consider loaning it out,” he tells them, climbing to his feet. “Allow me to take some pictures and type up the official appraisal, and you two will be ready to go.”

Killian voices his thanks as he grasps the slip.  Hal turns and gets to work while Emma leans over to get a look at the paper.  Killian can hear her sharp intake of air, and her wide green eyes stare in disbelief at the large figure underlined at the bottom.

$39,500

*                             *                             *

It’s real.  It’s really real.  Emma’s mouth goes dry when the gemologist proclaims Killian’s stone to be the genuine article.  Not since he produced the little satchel of gold last night has she felt so confused about who this man claims to be.  A handsome man with oddly detailed delusions and a pirate costume is one thing, but a man with those things who also rides a horse, fights like a bar room brawler, and carries tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of gold and precious stones in his pockets?  Henry’s voice rings in her ears:

You know there’s something to this.  

As she and Killian ride the elevator back down to street level, Emma takes one last look at the official appraisal document before folding it up and stuffing it back into the envelope.

Killian eyes her with concern.  “Are you alright, love?  You seem vexed.”

“Hmm?”  She does her best to wipe the dazed look off her face. “Oh.  No.  I’m fine.” She hopes the small smile she offers him is convincing.  She can tell by the doubt in his eyes that it’s not, but he doesn’t press her.

For once, she’s relieved when her cell phone rings, though her stomach drops when she sees Walsh’s name on the display.  The elevator doors part, and she leads the way through the lobby toward the main entrance, trying to camouflage her impatience as she puts the phone to her ear.  “Hi.”

“Hi, honey.  I’m glad I caught you.  Is this a bad time?”

As stressed out as she is, she manages a tiny smile for Killian when he strides ahead to pull the door open for her.  “No, it’s fine.  What’s up?”

“Okay, so, I’m an idiot, and I locked my keys in the car,” Walsh says, sounding chagrined.  “You’re, um, you’re good with locks, and I thought you might know what to do.”

Emma’s heart stutters. Walsh knows she can pick locks, but she’s successfully kept her ability to break into cars (and her history of stealing a certain yellow bug way back when) under wraps.  “Uh…”  Her face contorts into a conflicted mask and she winces, biting the bullet as she and Killian cross the street to the parking garage where they left her car this morning. “Yeah.  Yeah, I can get it open for you.”

“You can?  You’re the best.”  Her boyfriend’s voice rings with relief.  “Sorry.  I would call Triple A, but I don’t know how long they’d keep me waiting, and I left a catalog in the back seat that I really need for a client meeting at four-thirty.”

“No, no,” she says, frowning as she dismisses his apology, “Um, it’s fine.”  She glances with uncertainty at Killian, chewing on her lip at the prospect of another possible Killian/Walsh encounter before pulling the phone away from her ear for a split second to check the time on the screen. “Is half an hour okay?  We’re just finishing up downtown.”

“We?”

Emma mentally recoils. “Uh, yeah,” she replies, doing her best to affect nonchalance.  “I had to look into something for Killian, so we’re in Midtown.”

“Oh.”  He sounds slightly put-out.  “Well, yeah, half an hour is fine.  I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Sure.  Bye.”

“Bye.”

Emma disconnects and stares at her phone with a huff. “Guess we’re making a detour,” she mutters.

“What’s the trouble?” Killian asks, reading her reluctance.  He reaches toward the call buttons for the parking garage elevator with his outstretched index finger and looks to her for confirmation before jabbing the “up” arrow and grinning at the way it lights.  The weight of Emma’s anxiety momentarily lifts as she tries to suppress an entertained smile.  The man talks about hunting demons and has a hook for a hand, but he gets the same amount of enjoyment from pressing an elevator button as a three year-old.

Her reaction only causes his grin to widen, and it’s obvious he knows how charming he is as he stands there and beams, looking proud of himself for having made her smile.  Emma feels a flush rising in her cheeks, and she ducks her head hurriedly to try to hide the beginnings of a dopey grin.  “Um, Walsh accidentally locked himself out of his car, and he needs help getting the door open.”  

The elevator arrives with a ding, and he motions for her to go first, as always.  “You keep a key to his car?”

She trods inside and turns around, thrusting her hands into her pockets while he moves to stand beside her. “Not exactly.”  

Killian indicates the correct floor button with a questioning glance, and she nods and watches him press it with a flourish, his look of satisfaction only slightly more restrained this time.  The elevator whirs into action, and he turns to her, awaiting further explanation.  

“I’m… good with locks,” she admits.  

A scandalous smile spreads across his face, and she forces herself to look away before she mirrors his expression or begins to contemplate how well he pulls off the sexy bad-boy vibe.

“I knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan,” he announces proudly.

She chuffs, gaze falling to the toes of her boots while she tries to ignore the entirely inappropriate flutter of pride in her chest.  “Yeah, well, seeing as how breaking into places is generally frowned upon by the authorities, it’s not something I like to advertise,” she says, “even if it does come in handy for work sometimes.”  

He chuckles knowingly, and she doesn’t miss the admiration in his eye as she exits the elevator and hastens toward the Bug.  

Emma gives an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes, the side of her mouth twitching.  “Come on.”

*                             *                             *

Emma’s beau, it turns out, owns a furniture store.  Killian is unsure whether to be amused or disgusted that such an exciting woman is paired with a man with such a mundane livelihood.

Emma guides the Bug into a parking lot at the rear of the shop and pulls into an empty space.  She gives him the side-eye as she cuts the engine. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here while I take care of this, can I?”

“And miss the chance to watch you work, Swan?” he scoffs, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.  “Never. Besides, I should think that our little adventure this morning would have earned me some credit.”

She huffs.  “Fine.  Just… behave.”

They climb out of the Bug, and Killian throws her a wink over the top of the car.  “No need to worry about me.  I’m always a gentleman.”  

“Except for the whole pirate thing.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive, darling.”

He waggles his eyebrows and grins at the little chuckle that escapes her as she slips around to the front of her vehicle and pops open the boot.  Instead of her first aid kid, this time she retrieves a long flat strip of metal with two small cutouts on one end that make it bear some resemblance to a key.

Killian cranes his neck to get a better look.  “What’s that then?”

“A tool of the trade,” she answers, her eyes flashing cool admonishment in a way he shouldn’t find beguiling, but does.  “Don’t get any ideas.”  

Emma marches over to a dark green car parked in a spot labeled “Employees Only” and, using both hands, guides the metal down along the driver’s window and into the door. Her brow furrows in concentration, and he watches, fascinated, as she positions her tool by feel.  A few seconds later, she jerks up on it with a satisfied grunt, and the metal pulls free.  The car door opens easily when she tugs on the handle, and Killian chuckles.  

“Brilliant,” he declares with approval.

Despite Emma’s clear effort to ignore his compliment, he catches the subtle look of gratification that ghosts across her face while she runs her tool back over to the Bug.  When she returns, she braces one knee on Walsh’s driver’s seat and ducks into the car with a little sigh in order to fish out a set of keys laying haphazardly on the passenger side.  The move leaves him blinking rapidly at her shapely backside for a second, and as impure thoughts of Emma Swan being bent over for other reasons flare to life in his imagination, Killian chastises himself by clenching his fist until his wound screams in protest.

Thankfully, Emma appears oblivious to his torment as she withdraws from the car and pushes a button on the inside of the driver’s door.  The whole vehicle resonates with a dull mechanical click, and she hauls open the door to the back seat to pull out a thick book with the picture of a sitting room on the cover.  “Mission accomplished,” she sighs, giving it a little wave.  

Like its owner, the inside of the store is completely agreeable, with furniture pieces arranged in tidy vignettes throughout.  Soft instrumental music plays from somewhere overhead to help create a tranquil ambience that Killian supposes must put customers in the mood to buy beds and sofas and other creature comforts.  It strikes him as a terribly dull vocation, working in a place like this, but he supposes that regardless of his thoughts on the matter, if Emma really wants someone who embodies the quiet, stable life, she’s hit the nail on the head with Oscar Walsh.

“Emma!”

They look up to see the man himself coming toward them and grinning ear to ear.  Emma smiles and holds the book out to him, her eyes widening a bit with surprise when he pulls her close and steals a quick kiss.

Walsh beams.  “You’re a life-saver.”

Killian glances away, trying to ignore the way his gut twists at the sight of Emma kissing her boyfriend and inwardly snorting at the idea that this bloody amazing woman who spent her morning capturing a dangerous criminal instead finds praise for her ability to retrieve a furniture catalog.  

Emma chuffs.  “It’s nothing,” she says, handing over the car keys.

Walsh glances over at Killian and does a double-take, his mouth falling open and his eyes lingering on the hook.  “Wow. That’s quite the, um…” he gestures up and down, “outfit.”  

Killian straightens and cocks his head back, hand on his belt while he considers whether to take offense.  His thoughts are interrupted by a female voice that comes from behind him.

“Ozzie?  There’s a call for you from the warehouse.  They need clarification on tomorrow’s shipment.”

Killian and Emma turn to see a pretty woman with blonde hair pinned elegantly atop her head and a sweet smile gracefully threading a path through a cluster of settees as she hastens toward them in a sleek white dress.  Killian blinks.  Though she carries herself with a very different air – demure and understated where Emma is straightforward and biting – the physical resemblance between the two women is striking.

Walsh flashes the woman a warm smile.  “Okay.” He looks between the woman and Emma and gives a small start, as if remembering his manners.  “Oh, Linda, this is Emma.  Emma, this is Linda, my assistant manager.”

Linda’s dark blue eyes light with recognition.  “Oh, you’re Emma!”  She shifts the clipboard she carries to her left hand and reaches forward to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Emma returns her smile, looking slightly embarrassed.  “You too.”

“I’ve got to take this,” Walsh says apologetically, giving Emma’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he heads off.  “Back in a sec.”

Linda turns her attention to Killian, sizing him up with great interest.  “Hi.”

He grins back. “Hello, lass.”

Emma clears her throat. “This is Killian,” she says hastily. “He’s a friend.”

“On your way to a Halloween party?”  Linda studies his black leather enthusiastically.  “You make an amazing pirate.”

Killian executes a courtly bow at the waist.  “Why thank you,” he chuckles, meeting Emma’s slightly strained expression with a wink. “I do try.”

Linda turns to Emma. “I hear Ozzie talked you into the costume ball tomorrow.”

Killian’s ears perk up, and he tilts his head, one eyebrow inching upward as Emma buries her hands into her back pockets and gives a polite little laugh.  

“Uh, yeah.”

“Are you going?” Linda asks Killian.

“I must admit this is the first I’ve heard of it, lass,” he says modestly.

She hugs her clipboard to her chest.  “Oh, it’s really lovely.  It’s the Storybook Costume Ball down at the Woolworth Building.  All the proceeds go to a charity that buys books for hospitalized kids,” she gushes.  “Do you dance?”

Killian chuckles modestly and scratches the back of his head.  “On rare occasion.”  He shrugs lightly at Emma in response to the way she narrows one eye at him in surprise.

“Would you care to go with me?”  Linda’s eyebrows angle upward.  “I mean, not to be forward or anything.  Just as dance partners.  I was supposed to go with a friend, but he’s come down with the flu and can’t now, and I’ve been looking forward to it all year, and you,” she waves her hand in his direction appreciatively, “you’ve already got the perfect costume and everything.”

Killian hesitates. The thought of spending an evening watching Emma and Walsh arm-in-arm at a ball makes his insides churn, but Linda’s lovely face begins to falter at his lack of an immediate answer, and he finds he hasn’t the heart to say no.  Liam always did tease him about having a soft spot for damsels in distress.  He gives her a reassuring nod and a gentlemanly smile. “I would be happy to.”

Her face brightens immediately.  “Really? Oh that’s wonderful!”  She turns to Emma.  “Perhaps the four of us could go together.”

“Uh…”  The grin on Emma’s face is at odds with the tension Killian sees in her shoulders.  “Sure.”

Walsh returns, striding up to Emma’s side and wrapping an arm around her waist.  “Sorry about that,” he says breathlessly.  “What’d I miss?”

“Killian’s agreed to stand in as my date for the ball,” Linda reports excitedly.  “And we were thinking perhaps the four of us could ride together.”

“Oh!”  Walsh’s expression is momentarily unreadable. “Um, that’d be fine, honey, right?” He glances at Killian before gazing down at Emma.

“Yeah.”  Emma flashes her boyfriend a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes but which seems to placate him nonetheless.  “Sounds good.”

*                             *                             *

The car doors slam in quick succession as Emma and Killian settle themselves back in the Bug, and she heaves a small sigh, inserting the key into the ignition and turning over the engine.

“Swan?”  Killian eyes her from the passenger seat.  “Are you alright?”

She preoccupies herself with backing the Bug out of the space, craning her head over her shoulder. “Sure.  Fine,” she replies brusquely.

A line appears across his forehead.  “Should I not have said yes?” he asks, peering at her curiously.  “Do you not want me to attend?”

“No!  No.”  She shakes her head, desperately wishing the brew of unidentified emotions roiling inside her would disappear so she would know she was telling the truth.  She makes a show of checking her surroundings while putting the Bug through a three-point turn, twisting in her seat to avoid the intensity of his gaze.  “It’s fine. It was nice of you to agree to go with her.”  

She can see him nod slowly in the corner of her eye as she pulls up to the street and checks for oncoming traffic.  

“Do you not want to go?” he guesses.

“I…” she merges on to the street and points them toward home, “I just don’t understand the big deal with these things,” she says.  It feels like a safe confession.  “I mean, I know it’s supposed to be fun and romantic and whatever, but it’s just a night out in a poofy, ridiculous dress and shoes that are going to kill my feet while I try not to step on Walsh’s toes.”

Killian chuckles as she slows to a stop at a red light.  “That’s one way of looking at it,” he concedes.  “Why agree to it in the first place then?”

Emma tips her head back a bit against her headrest and sighs.  “Walsh thought it sounded like fun, and I felt guilty about saying no,” she explains wearily, giving him a rueful sideways glance.  “He shouldn’t have to miss out just because I’m not into romance.”

Killian hums, and she tries to ignore the slight tingle the sound sends down her spine.  “Or maybe you just haven’t figured out what you find romantic,” he muses.  “Romance isn’t about fancy balls and pretty gowns, Swan.”

Her brow wrinkles as she shoots him a dubious look.  “First the true love thing, and now you’re schooling me on romance?” she observes wryly.

He shrugs, dimples showing.

The light turns green, and she focuses back on the road, lip between her teeth.  “Fine,” she says at last, the word wrenching free from her. “I’ll bite.  What’s it about?” 

She hears him take a deep breath.  “I think,” he says slowly, “it’s about feeling special.”  His tone turns almost shy.  “It’s about letting someone convince you that your happiness matters.”

Emma tries to tamp down the warm flush that blooms in her cheeks while his words sink in.  “That’s all?”

“That can be everything,” he murmurs.  He shifts a little in his seat and clears his throat, his tone normalizing.  “Don’t aspire to be like every other woman in the room, Swan.  The things that make you different,” he says, turning his head away to stare out the passenger window, “are the things that make you exceptional.”

Emma glances over at him with wide eyes and looks back at the road ahead of her, glad that he doesn’t see how she swallows her heart back down and hastily blinks away her reaction to his sentiment.

Henry is camped out on the sofa playing video games when they arrive home.  He perks up at the sound of the door and whips his head around, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader freezing mid-battle on the TV.  “Hi!  Where’d you go?”

“To catch a villain, lad,” Killian calls cheerfully, following Emma over the threshold and pressing the door shut behind them.  He holds his hook aloft to her.  “Shall I take this downstairs?”

She pauses as she shrugs out of her jacket, her gaze flitting between the steel and his face. There’s almost no contemplation before she rolls her eyes. “No, I guess it’s fine.”  She finishes tugging her arm out of the sleeve and thrusts her jacket over a coat hook, trying to ignore the way a genuine smile brightens his face.  Emma hastily dips her head and hides the tiny grin tugging at her lips behind the veil of her hair as she leans forward to draw her gun from her waistband and goes to secure it in the safe.  “Just try not to scratch the furniture, okay?”

“Did you get the bad guy?” Henry asks eagerly.

“Indeed we did.”  Killian comes over and settles himself on the sofa with a satisfied sigh.  He gestures toward the frozen image on the flat screen.  “What are you doing?”

Henry unpauses the game and resumes his fight to the death.  “Getting the bad guy,” he smirks.

Killian stares, fascinated by the animated carnage as the two characters on screen slash and parry with their brightly colored weapons.

“It’s a game,” Henry elaborates, his eyes fixed and hands jerking the controller back and forth.

Killian arches an eyebrow and as he watches Henry’s fingers unleash an onslaught on the little plastic buttons.  “You call this swordplay?” he asks, nodding toward the controller.

“Not swords.  Light sabers,” Henry corrects.  “But basically the same thing.”

Killian shakes his head, bemused.  “You do realize real sword fighting requires actual skills, don’t you?”

Emma swings the picture back over the safe and turns to see Henry finally triumph over the Dark Side with a little whoop.  He sets the controller next to him and turns to Killian.  “Hey, it took me two weeks to beat that level,” he points out with a sniff.  “Trust me, there were serious skills involved.”  He ignores Killian’s snort and cranes his neck toward Emma.  “Can we go now?”

Furrows crease Emma’s forehead.  “Go where?”

“Uh, pizza at Marco’s? It’s Friday?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows and clearly indulging her lapse in memory.

“Oh.” Emma feels sheepish at having completely forgotten.  “Right.”

Friday nights out at the neighborhood pizzeria have become a thing for them over the last year, a kind of mother-son date night.  Henry loves the chance to stuff himself with a quality Brooklyn pie and play the “super retro” arcade-style games Marco keeps in the back, and Emma likes the idea of carving out some time each week to make sure she’s staying in tune with her kid as he plunges headfirst into adolescence.

Henry saves his game, switches off the TV, and hops up from the sofa.  “Great.  Come on, Killian.”

Killian straightens in his seat and throws a questioning look first at Henry and then at Emma.

Emma briefly considers the alternatives – canceling Friday pizza or leaving a hungry Killian to his own devices in her kitchen – before sighing and consenting with a weak smile and a tip of her head toward the door.  “Wanna go?”

He beams and climbs to his feet.  “Indeed. I go where you lead, Swan,” he says amiably, his smile growing brighter when she colors a little.  “Just one thing.  What’s pizza?”

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