#ooof sorry this was way longer than i expected

[jeongharine]

syntax ERROR: the right formula

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, smut

⚝ notes: you and wonwoo decide to take the thing between you on level two. but no one has to know about it. you would rather die than to have someone figure out about your sexual escapades with the local nerdy fuckboy. it is an ego thing. (part i)

(thanks to everyone who read and liked part one, i’ve never received such an amount of likes for something that i posted <3 i hope you will like this part as well, it is a bit longer but i had a little fun in writing some teasing ooof enjoy it, have a good early summer period and stay safe x)

“can you actually believe that, y/n? he ghosted me for i don’t know three weeks, and then he had the nerve to ask for a tit pic,” nabi sighs, taking a sip from her blue-ish drink.

“you know what? i’m so done with men. all of them. we really ar- are you even listening to me?” 

you are caught off guard by the clicking of her fingers in front of your eyes. truth is, you are only half present, the other half of you is scanning the whole floor, trying to see if there’s a certain someone amongst the agglomeration of bodies. 

“yeah, sure, sorry,” you apologize, leaning your side against the wall. “i was somewhere else for a second. you were saying that he ghosted you?”

“i’m never talking to him again. or any man.” “hm,” you hum, crossing your arms. you actaully don’t know who she is trying to convince at this point, because that must’ve been the fifth time you heard your friend giving you that speech (during that semester alone). 

“really, i don’t know why those guys haven’t been thrown out of the campus yet. they’re a hazard, including your brother from what i’ve heard. sorry. but yeah, they’re a threat to public health,”

you shrug, because honestly you don’t care that much about their business. and that is important to keep it low.

“could be worse, though, i could be one of the poor girls getting fucked by one of them in their spare time,” 

oh. 

you giggle, a little nervous. “yeah, yeah,” you agree, looking back at the mass of students. “yeah, that’d be totally awful.” 

“i couldn’t even count on my fingers the amount of girls that had one night stands with one of them, and somehow proceeded in becoming completely whipped and infatuated, only to be told that they don’t ‘fuck the same person twice’. like… what the fuck is that? who do they think they are? sorry that your brother is involved in this discourse, but he’s kind of a prick,”  

you laugh, noticing the tinge of red that covers her cheeks. “you sound really drunk,” 

“i’m not bullshitting you. they’re pricks and that’s on period,” 

she raises her cup in a silent cheer, and took another sip. “i know you’re not involved in the fuckboy thing that plagues this campus and, honestly, you’re better off that way. but trust me when i say that they aren’t worth the headache,” 

with an inattentive nod, you take another peek at the strangers filling the space near you. “i believe you, don’t worry. i know my thing or two,” 

the worst part? you do. 

and the even worse bit? there are two things wrong with what she has just told you. 

number one: yes, they could be kind of jerks sometimes. but they aren’t completely soulless, at least some of them. they are fun to be around, actually, when picked alone and not in group, or when they are not trying to impress someone into sleeping with them.

number two: they fuck the same person twice, if feeling like it. at least wonwoo. and you know that because you’ve been fucking him on and off for the past five months or so. 

when you first met him, you weren’t exactly after a “secret friends with benefits” relationship. you just needed a math tutor. but long story short, you didn’t expect to fall victim to his charms, melting under his tender kisses, moaning his name as he rolled his hips against you, edging your orgasm for longer than you can hold it. and you surely didn’t expect to like it as much as you do. 

truth is: jeon wonwoo is everything, but he isn’t dumb. he knows that he is attractive and smart as hell - he knows that with his voice so silky and deep just saying the right words is enough to have you in bed with him, and he knows how to use the two things very well. 

apart from also corrupting you in games hours.

also, you are human, alright? and there is something extremely tempting about sleeping with your brother best friend, especially when he keeps coming back to you. it’s only nature to want to feel special every once in a while. 

again: it is an ego thing. 

plus no one ever caught you. not nabi or any of your other friends. as far as you are aware, wonwoo’s group doesn’t know a thing either, which makes you appreciate him even more because you don’t know how hoshi could take this.  

so yeah, he isn’t a total douchebag. he has the most basic sense of loyalty. 

x

with a sigh, you push your body away from the wall, fumbling with your purse. you are praying that- oh there he fucking is. 

the moment that you see wonwoo, sitting on the couch across from you, you forget how to breathe for a moment. 

he looks better than you had anticipated: dressed in all black, with his thighs spread across the seat, ready to be fucked right then and there. his dark long hair is parted in the middle, with a few stubborn strands falling over his angelic features, as his gaze navigates around the room, staring at nothing in particular.

next to him, there is another one of his friends, seokmin, talking about something animatedly but wonwoo is paying no attention. 

his expression is one of irritation, you notice, with his thick eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenching. but when his gaze falls on you, however, wonwoo’s perceived annoyance instantly dissipates. 

you watch as his eyes meet your own, then he trails down your body with desire, stopping around the level of your thighs for a bit longer than you have predicted. 

you know that stare awfully well: it is the same one that he gives you when he sees you around campus, or in the pc-bang when you’re winning or when you actually understand the concepts that he’s teaching you. the silent provocation that tells you, and only you, that he really wants to have some alone time right now. 

a tricky smirk sprouts at the corner of his lips, and he leans back against the couch. you follow his movements as he reaches towards his pocket and extracts his phone, staring at you as he does so. he unlocks it, taking a final glance at your expectant features before he starts to type something.

[00:23] wonu: so glad to see that you came  

[00:23] wonu: will you do me a favour and meet me in the bathroom upstairs? second door to the right ;) 

and what can you do when he’s asking it like this? you take the stairs and you wonder, as you open your way through the crowd of sweaty bodies and spilling drinks, if you aren’t trying too hard to rationalize and catastrophize something that is actually very simple. 

a story with a beginning, a middle part, and a satisfying ending: you two want to fuck each other, you do, then you move right forward. no hidden feelings, no strings attached. that’s it. couldn’t get any better than that. 

but maybe, it isn’t everything about that, and you know it. it is also about overhearing the other girls talking as you make your way upstairs, complaining about how ridiculously hot and pretty he is. it is about having that steamy, trembling secret between the two of you. it is about knowing that yeah, wonwoo is crazy hot and smart and funny and you can have that whenever you want.

x

just like the calm before the storm, there is a moment of quietness and stillness between the instant of when you lock the door, and the one when you see him. 

as you turn around, dwelling in his proximity, you think about a million things at the same time: about teasing him for his location choice, or maybe about how he must’ve been going through a drought, if he has to count on his covert booty call to get laid at a party. 

before you can say anything, wonwoo’s lips are on yours, attacking your mouth in a fervorous kiss. you whimper in surprise as he pushes you against the closed bathroom door, his hands circling your waist as he squeezes your body against his. your purse falls on the ground with a muffled sound, but you barely even notice it. 

it is something else, really. tonight, he’s kissing you as if he physically can’t contain himself long enough to do anything else - as if all that he can think of doing is to feel the heavenly contact of your mouth against his, while your fingers pull strands of his hair.

as he invites his tongue inside your mouth, wonwoo groanes and lowers his hands, squeezing your ass like he is about to lose every last ounce of sanity he has left in him. you sigh as he moves his focus onto your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. 

“someone’s excited,” you comment, slightly breathless. the only response you get is another groan, and the rolling of his hips against your inner thigh where you can feel his dick, already semi-hard, pressing. 

“couldn’t even bother to take me somewhere else,” 

“i just needed to have you now. have you seen how hot you are?” his voice comes out muffled against your skin, the reverberations of his timbre propagating directly towards your core. 

“i see you’re starting to get more adventurous with this,” you bite down on your lower lip and he sucks your flesh, groping your ass once again. “parties and nights out used to be so off limits to you.” 

wonwoo chuckles against your neck, moving back towards your mouth. he starts making out with you again, his breath hot and heavy against your face, and you start to think how you could very well pass out seen the level of craving building inside of you. 

“i changed my mind.” he speaks as he leans back. 

you smirk at his attitude. “we’ll end up getting caught,” 

“aw, baby,” he pouts, looking at you with artificial pity. “are you afraid your brother is going to find out?”

okay, he can be kind of a prick sometimes. 

“so i can leave, then?” you raise one eyebrow, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

“you can, the door is right behind you. you know i’m not one to insist,” wonwoo tells you, quickly losing interest in this part of the conversation. “but something tells me you won’t.” 

you don’t even try to respond, because there is nothing to be said: both of you know what you are doing there, and the idea of walking out is just too ridiculous to consider. 

with a suspire, you watch as wonwoo moves his lips down your chest, stopping at the fabric of your blouse. 

“what if someone hears us?” you suddenly remember, heartbeat quickening at the thought. 

“what is it?” he asks as his fingers work on your buttons, exposing more of your chest. the slow pace of his is going to kill you one of these days. 

“you’re worried that people are going to find out about this? about us? when you’re always begging to be fucked in the room next to your brother’s one or when there’s someone at my dorm?” 

you open your mouth to respond but his chuckle, so deep and melodious, catches you off guard. 

“how scandalous, right? you are not the pure little thing you make yourself to be,” wonwoo continues, finally opening your blouse and fully exposing your bra to him. he hums with delight. “red lace? you really want to tease me,” 

you swallow dry as he takes the blouse off your shoulders and gently places it beside the sink, above a towel. he can be so thoughtful and gentle. 

“wonu, i-�� “you’re such a little brat sometimes, you know that?” he interrupts, eyes following his own movements as his hands circle your body, moving to unclasp your bra. and of course he gets it right on the first try. 

“you came all the way up here just to get fucked, and now you’re worried that people are going to know about it,” you stare him down, a smirk already creeping up in the corner of your lips. 

“how does that make me a brat?” 

he smiles. “don’t try to to play the naive card on me,” another agile movement of his fingers and your bra joins your blouse besides the sink. 

wonwoo sighs deeply at your exposed breasts, trying to imprint that sight into the back of his mind. “pretending as if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. you can drop the act now, y/n,” “i don’t-“ his mouth attacking you is all that you needed to shut up and let him do what he wants really.

overwhelmed by the sensation, you let out a gasp as his hand squeezes you, playing with you as he moans against your skin. 

“i love it so much,” he hums, moaning at the marvelous sensation of your warm skin against his tongue. you were almost forgetting how much wonwoo aches to play with your tits - not that you are complaining. 

“and i love that it’s all for me,” he breathes out before placing kisses again.

you whimper at the contact, arching your back in a failed attempt to get closer to him. as much as you know he is most likely to just say whatever he thinks would turn you on, wonwoo’s words expand inside your chest, building a heat that seems to suffocate you. even if you know it is bullshit, maybe not all of it, you like to be called his. ego strokes and all of that. 

“wonu…” there is only a thin wooden door separating you two from the outside world, and at the moment you can���t care less if they hear you calling out his name. the guy really does wonders to your anxiety. 

but he also likes to tease you. 

he moves away from your breasts and you almost, almost, cry out in frustration. but wonwoo starts to trace kisses back to your neck, then to your jawline. and you feel like you’re going crazy with all that back and forth.

“i’m not gonna lie, i understand where you’re coming from,” he says. “i like to keep this as a secret too. it’s so hot.” 

you almost forget how to inhale when he aligns his face with yours, placing a peck on your swollen lips. “yeah?” you ask, sounding as if you are in a daydream. 

“yeah,” he agrees, breathless. 

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he

even if wonwoo tries his best to look as if he’s under total control, you know that he can’t keep that front for too long. he is clearly turned on, and the hardness pressing against your thigh is all of the proof that you need. he’s close to get too worked up.

“it’s so great to know that i have one of the sexiest nerdy girls on campus just for myself…” his hand trails up your thighs, adventuring in the lands beneath your skirt. “and no one knows.”

you bite your lower lip, anticipating the contact of his hand against your core. “what’s so tempting about it?” you ask. 

he smiles. “ah… many things,”

your stare doesn’t vacillate. “i’d like an example,” 

instead of answering you straight away, wonwoo decides to take his sweet time. he leans his head to the side and kisses you feverishly, growing satisfied with the the small whimpers and breaths that echoes in between your mouths. his hands are all over you: on your ass, your waist, down your thighs and up your hips, where his eyes can not see. you only have your skirt and your panties on, and it is so frustrating to still feel him fully dressed against you. 

at last, he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours. as he speaks, you feel the tingle of his hands as they move towards the hem of your panties. 

“i like seeing you walk around campus, knowing that you’re sore from the night before,” he speaks slowly, his voice in a low vibration against your mouth. “and i know you don’t tell any of your friends about it. about how i fucked you so good that you almost cried,” 

you hum, closing your eyes. “what else?”

much to your dismay, his hands leave your underwear again, coming out to pull you closer. “when you send me those audios late at night,” he’s breathing out hard then, drowning in those lewd memories. “crying out my name… ” he stops and takes a big breath. “how am i supposed to say no to that? so there i go, out the door, telling your brother that i’m going to the library to study, instead of saying that i’m going to see his crazy hot sister and that i’m going to fuck her…” he hesitates. “and i just get this… adrenaline rush because he and my other friends don’t know it’s you.” 

“and how do you know that i like any of it?” you tease. 

wonwoo snickers at your question. both of you know that it is plastered all over your face, but he can keep up with that little teasing if you want to. 

“two reasons,” he says. “first: you do the same to me, or don’t you?” 

“i don’t recall,” you respond, forging innocence. okay, maybe you do like to play the naive part. 

“oh no? what a terrible memory you have, i see why you do badly in exams when you don’t study with me. now, let me remind you,” he places a strand of your hair behind your ear, his words hitting your skin in heated, libidinous waves. wonwoo is so close that you can count his eyelashes if you want to, his torso squeezed so tight against yours that you wonder how you even manage to breathe in this position. 

“it was just last week, babe. you called me to your flat after your roommate had left,” one of his hands goes back to play with the hem of your underwear, fingertips feeling like sparks against your skin. 

“you got so horny with just the thought of having me, isn’t that right?” much to your surprise, your voice comes out a lot more steady than you have expected. “don’t flatter yourself, you don’t know that.”

wonwoo laughs, placing his warm, swollen lips against the skin of your neck. “i don’t,” he agrees, digits pressing against your clothed area. 

you know he feels how wet your panties have become, so there’s no reason to keep that up. regardless, you kind of like it. 

“but i do remember how much you wanted me that night. how many times did i fuck you that night? and you just had to keep quiet, because your neighbours could have been catching something. that was so cute,” 

you sigh, your insides in knots over the tension you are sustaining. you hate him sometimes. hate how good he is. “i wasn’t counting.” 

“i know,” he swiftly pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side. 

“and this right here, this is the second reason. look at this,” his digits move, teasing you and you have to suppress a moan. “you’re always ready. i love that. you’re so good to me.” 

god, you are so close to lose it.

“so quiet all of a sudden,” his nose delicately trails up your neck, his mouth meeting the angle of your jaw in open kisses. in an attempt to ground yourself, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging through his t-shirt. you can still feel wonwoo’s fingers playing. you hate him. or not. you don’t know. 

“i know i leave you speechless, sometimes, but i wan to hear you too,” 

strong and steady, his other hand meets the curvature of your waist, pressing your body against his.

“nothing? y/n, you’re especially irresistible tonight,” his eyes are somewhat dazed, unfocused and hooded. he appears as if he’s two seconds away from fucking you raw against the wall, and you seriously wouldn’t mind at this point. 

“you know why i called you here?” “because you want to fuck me,” you respond without missing a beat. 

“i do, of course,” he places his forehead against yours, and you whimper. 

“and the best part is that no one will even know it,” he continues. against your best judgement, your knees are getting weaker by the minute, the knot in your abdomen about to untie.

“just you and i. just the two of us will know how much you begged.” 

“wonu,” you call out, hands tangling themselves in the roots of his silky hair. you whisper out his name again, your voice coming out in such a promiscuous tone. 

god, wonwoo loves hearing the effect he has on you. 

x

maybe jeon wonwoo does also have a golden dick. 

above you, he smirks at the sensation of your mouth around his thumb, his other hand coming to place small caresses on your hair. after he removes his thumb from your mouth, you get back to your feet. it swiftly crosses your mind that your legs might give out eventually but, thankfully, they seem a bit more firm than what you have anticipated. 

“better?” you ask. 

“perfect.” wonwoo kisses you, sighing against your mouth. he pulls away gradually, his body still moving a bit slow.

“you always are.” 

“aw, how nice of you,” you smile at his compliment, walking towards your pile of clothes. “always with the compliments.” 

he hums in agreement, watching your naked body - your fingers holding that red bra he adores so much. “do we have any lesson programmed this week?” 

an incredulous laugh ruptures your lips as you clasp your bra behind your back. 

“we just had sex, and you’re already thinking about studying time?” 

he shruggs. “i like to have a schedule,” 

“i don’t actually remember, but we can game at mine wednesday,” your skirt moves up your legs, all the way up to your waistline. from the corner of your eyes, you can see wonwoo fumbling with his own jeans, which he now curses for being inside out. 

“can you pass me some toilet paper?” you ask him, eager to clean the mess between your legs. there’s no way you are going to put your panties back on, even if the thought of going commando isn’t exactly the most welcoming either. 

wonwoo is sitting on the toilet lid, putting his jeans back, and simply nods in agreement before doing so. “i’d like to know, though,” he insists.

you smile, taking a cheeky glance at him. “oh, so you are needy. since when you’re so needy?” 

he groans. “i’m not needy, shut up.” the sound of his zipper closing echoes inside the cubicle. 

“well, you can have this as a memory, if you’d like.” 

you throw your red panties at him, watching as his face grows interested at the piece of cloth in his hands. wonwoo sighs, tugging his t-shirt back inside his pants. 

“you’re killing me,” he complains. “good.” you smile, turning back at him. “how do i look? presentable?” 

he examins you for an instant, taking in the details of your form. “it doesn’t look like you just got fucked, if that’s what you’re asking,” 

“great!” you swirl around, “have a nice night, wonu. and don’t get too excited with the panties,” 

wonwoo gets up and walks closer to you, your underwear safely guarded in his hands. you are positive he’s going to have fun with it later. “you’re going home already?” he asks. 

“yeah, you did a good job at making me tired,” the clicking of the lock is a pleasant reminder that no one tried to open the door during your alone time.

wonwoo chuckles, leaning closer to you and he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“good night, then. thanks for the panties,” you laugh. “you’re welcome.” 

x

the building is glowing in the most diverse colours from the outside, and the sound of the music is like a distant pulse.

you watch, heart clenching inside of your chest, as wonwoo steps out of the front door with hoshi and seokmin - his head hanging low and a smile at the corner of his lips. 

there is a volume in his front pocket, where you are sure he has tugged in your panties.

“i think that we should go home and sleep. but let’s keep this conversation on hold,” wonwoo cuts off the conversation. seokmin, however, isn’t satisfied. 

“you know that i’ll find out eventually,” he says, trying not to trip while walking. 

“i always do. and hoshi knows it well.” 

hoshi laughs, meeting wonwoo’s eyes. on the other side of the street, you and nabi take the opposite direction, having wonwoo to turn his head quickly at you. 

“wonu-yah, i think you should give those lacy panties hanging off your pocket back to my sister tomorrow,”

“what-” “oh fuck!” a tomato red face wonwoo grabs them, while seokmin trips and nearly cries out loud in the middle of the street.

[kzele]

Crossing Your Path

Peter meets a certain feline-themed burglar much earlier than canon and everything changes.

Peter was focused as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag. The last time he forgot to check that, it almost ended in his library books in the dumpster. Seeing as Harry was in Europe with his dad (which sounded amazing until the fact that's it's with Norman hit) and Gwen was off at science camp (which he could no longer afford to go to after the funeral expenses were paid), Peter needed all the forms of entertainment he could get. Specifically, cheap entertainment.

Thankfully, since it was summer, Aunt May didn't protest him going out all the time. She seemed to think it was good for both of them to find things to keep their minds off of. . .current events. Peter shook his head and stepped onto the ledge as the wind ruffled his t-shirt and jeans. If this wasn't in the evening, he wouldn't be taking this risk but his costume needed the wash. He had been using it so much it may as well start web-slinging on it's own. Not that he'd be doing that without his costume. Too risky even for him. A little light parkour from building to building should release some of the endless energy that the spider bite gave him.

He felt the air brush his face as he leapt off the side of one building and flipped gracefully to the next one. Building after building, his adrenaline began to pump as his mind entered a state of focused zen. As Peter landed on the next roof, he heard. . .clapping?

A low, but feminine voice rang out, "Well, someone is certainly light on their feet."

Peter whirled around to find. . .whoa. A very attractive girl was watching him with interested green eyes. She looked to be around his age, maybe a bit older, and with hair so blond it was white.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She asked, regarding him with an amused look.

Realizing how rude it was to keep staring at someone, no matter their looks, Peter answered, "Ah, sorry! I just. . .didn't expect someone to be up here. Rooftops don't seem to be the 'in' place to be right now for most people."

She hummed at that, "Too true. But who says that most people know how to have fun? That is why you're up here, right? To have fun?"

"Uh, yeah, pretty much. All my close friends from school are out of town right now. One's in Europe and the other is in a science camp upstate. The only one that I think is still here in the city just graduated and is busy with college prep," he said, feeling a little more at ease.

The girl wrinkled her nose at that, "Ooof. So, you're roughing it alone for the entire summer from the sound of it. Sounds like dullsville to me. No wonder you're out here hopping rooftops. How long have you been doing this?"

"Since about May-June timeframe," he answered truthfully.

She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, "Of this year? Get out. You must be spending ages up here to move like that already."

Peter nervously laughed, "Yeah, well, like I said, I've been stir-crazy all summer."

"Hmm. I do know a surefire way to alleviate boredom," she said stepping into his personal space, "Wanna hear it?"

He gulped, "Uhhhh, I'm guessing it's not Monopoly, is it?"

The girl laughed a little and shook her head, "A race, silly. See that building over there?"

He looked towards a distant flat-topped roof.

She smirked, "Winner picks the food and the loser buys. Sound fair?"

Peter's heart leapt a little. Was she asking him out? No, this is probably just a friendly outing since they just met. Either way, his stomach was already aching just at the mere thought of food due to his heightened metabolism. A determined grin began to work itself across his face.

"You're on! Hey-"

"You snooze, you lose!"

His new rival was already leaping onto the next building and Peter had to let out a small burst of speed to catch up. No need to overdo it yet.

Whoever she was, she was definitely in shape. Everything on the rooftops were avoided or leveraged with ease. Peter could win this, but he had to be careful not to look unnatural. Since she got a headstart, he can't look too good just yet. He already slipped up with being overly truthful once.

An idea came to him.

Peter removed the bag that was still around his shoulders as he finally allowed himself to make it to her position. He had to be careful to time this right or else risk the possibility of her tripping off of the roof. That'd be real responsible.

He slid the bag towards her feet as she began to reach the middle of the roof and watched as she tripped with a slight yelp. She glared as Peter ran past her and jumped onto the building being used as a finish line.

He turned towards her and grinned, "So, I'm game for either pizza or Chinese. That sound good to you?"

She huffed, obviously a little annoyed, "You really do learn fast, don't you?"

"Well, you do know how to push a guy past his limits. Seriously, though, that was fun. The most fun I've had in ages. Really."

He held out a hand towards her and sheepishly rubbed his neck.

"Sorry if you got hurt by my move earlier. Since we didn't bother introductions earlier, I'm Peter. What's your name?"

The girl arched a brow but eventually shook the hand offered.

". . .Felicia. And I don't suppose you'll decide to pay for the food this time anyways to make up for it?"

Peter smiled apologetically, "Oh, I'll be sure to do that next time. See, I kinda don't have money on me right now. Didn't think I'd need any up here."

"Wonderful," Felicia sighed though her glare lessened a little, "Well, Peter, it just so happens you're in luck. I happen to have quite a bit of cash on me right now. Enough for two and then some. But don't think you're getting out of a rematch of our race. Same place, same time next week."

"Yes, ma'am," Peter saluted her playfully, "Private Peter will arrive as scheduled."

She snorted as they began to make their way to ground level, "Anyone ever tell you how corny you are?"

Somehow, it didn't sound as biting as it could have been. That was a first.

"All the time."

(It was only after Peter was halfway home that night that he remembered that his bag was still back on that roof.)

[deancaspinefest]

Whisper My Name

Author: PetraAmia | Artist: Solstheim Posting on Friday March 24

Castiel Novak was an alpha with a few secrets up his sleeve, and had distanced himself from his family in New York City. Of course this was the family line, and they stuck to it, Castiel was better off in the West than he was in the City, and they weren't wrong. When Castiel first roamed he made a name for himself in the trick pony shows of the time and finally settled down in a small town called Angel, Wyoming. Here, he gave into some of his Alpha instincts by taking care of the townsfolk as sheriff, but that wasn't to say that he was not a dutiful son. Twice his family back home had sent him an Omega to keep the families honor and both times, the Omega in question had not survived the sometimes harsh climate his new home provided. When a letter came from his eldest brother Michael to alert him to yet a third Omega coming to meet him from New York, he expected nothing but more of the same. He was totally unprepared for the Omega who came with his favorite brother Gabriel, and the new pup he was to take into his life. However, the events of the town have kept them apart, his duties to the town came before his new mate, his true mate, and their relationship suffers. Can they recover, and be what they were always meant to be, or will they continue to dance around each other until they wither? 

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

"My, my Clarence. The temper on you, what's got your britches in a twist?" The voice of one of his dearest friends, Lady Masters, came from the open doorway where she stood. His eyes narrowed at her heeled boots and wondered just how she had snuck up in here on him. His anger, he supposed, had made him a bit blind. She was waiting for an answer so he rumbled out his reply. "My family is meddling.... again." Castiel glared at the paper in front of him and tossed it across his desk so she could read it. The woman was noisier than anyone in town would give her credit for, but she knew how and when to keep secrets. As her eyes roamed the page Castiel leaned back in his sturdy wooden chair and tried to count backwards from fifty. Meg chuffed and waved the letter, "because that worked out so well last time. Amelia wilted in the sun out here, and April? She wanted to kill you. What kind of Omega are they sending this time?” Eyes darting back to the paper she suddenly had an afterthought, “does she know about your... preferences?" Of course there was that question, the one that made him wince. "Probably not, my family likes to shame me for those, remember?" Castiel looked longingly at the bottle of whiskey but decided against it, he was on the job. "Sheriff! There was another- ooof," the young boy Alfie, who helped out around town doing odd jobs, tripped into the office, " sorry sir, there was another letter. Was a bit sticky, so it got stuck to Lady Bradburry's package." Castiel grumbled but took the letter as Alfie straightened himself out. It was from his brother Gabriel, he read it at a glance and his ire settled a hair. "Dearest Brother, Do not be alarmed at Michael's letter. Many things have happened back home since you've gone, and you will be happy to note our Dear brother is no longer squatting on a stick. Though that is not a story for a letter, it is best told in person. I will be accompanying your new Omega, worry not. With Ruthie at my side we will wrangle the stage coaches all the way to the middle of nowhere, where you reside. It is about time I have visited the plains that you call home. We will be following the postal route and should reach our mid way point a few weeks after this letter finds you. There is a Man there named Balthazar, a friend, we will be visiting for a day or two on the journey. I would request you at least send some sort of letter there so that your new Omega can learn something of you? As I said I will have more news to share when we reach your neck of the woods, so this letter will be a touch short. Stop frowning Cassie, it is not as bad as all that. I actually approve of this one. See you soon… well you know. Your favorite brother, Gabriel"

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Friday March 24]

[shijiujun]

under the light of the moon - part 2

Lu Yao is prepared to let Chusheng go if he asks, but Chusheng is having none of that.

☞ part 1

--

It’s nice to see that some things remained the same after three years — Yao Qin is still working at Xiang Man Lou and Sha Sha is here. All his brothers too, familiar faces to him and Chusheng rests a little easier knowing that in the past three years, he hasn’t lost any of them.

Sha Sha in particular stayed out on the streets with him when they first came to Shanghai. They were much, much younger, and seeing her every time reminds him of the hardship they went through together on the streets before he was taken in by Boss Bai, and her by another woman working at Bai Le Men almost a decade and a half ago, her mentor.

Only for a few minutes, he thought as he removed his ring earlier, entering the doors of Bai Le Men without thinking too hard about it. He doesn’t want to bring something sacred like his… relationship with Lu Yao into a place like this.

Of course the action makes him feel strangely like the biggest asshole on this side of Shanghai, but Chusheng decides that he’ll get the information he needs quickly and get out.

When Youning’s distinctive voice rings out halfway through his conversation with Sha Sha later, calling for Lu Yao, Chusheng stills, and a sense of foreboding washes over him. Turning to look at her, he says, “I’m sorry, I have to…”

“Go, Chusheng-ge, don’t worry about me,” Sha Sha nods.

He excuses himself quickly, hurrying out of Bai Le Men’s doors and right outside a few feet away, Youning is yelling for a Lu Yao who’s no longer in sight.

Lu Yao and Youning were probably here to find him and saw him talking to Sha Sha earlier. Chusheng brings his hand up, and damn it. He promised, just a few minutes, and it just had to be during this few minutes that Lu Yao and Youning saw him.

It’s a really inopportune time for Ah Dou’s voice to sound in his head right now.

Whatever you do, don’t take off the ring.

Ge, I think you’ll regret it if you do.

Hurriedly, he puts it on again, and the ring fits snugly where it belongs on his finger.

“Chusheng-ge! What were you even thinking?”

He hears Youning’s voice before his sister marches up to him, absolutely livid.

“Lu Yao came here with you?” Chusheng asks.

“Of course he came here with me, I- who’s that woman? You weren’t even wearing your ring, and San Tu saw you flirting with her. Even if you don’t love San Tu, even if you don’t like him, you shouldn’t do this to him. He’s been trying so hard, and you’ve been turning him away at every attempt. If you don’t want him, you need to tell him. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him away from you!”

Chusheng stares hard at Youning at her outburst.

“… I don’t want to make him sad,” comes Chusheng’s quiet reply then, exhaling deeply. “I can’t promise him that I’ll remember, Youning. And I’m afraid he’ll keep on hoping, only to be disappointed every time. Do you know how it feels whenever I look at him, and he's looking at me for something, someone that it isn't there?”

It’s the most Chusheng has said about Lu Yao to her since he was discharged from the hospital, and the novelty of it all stuns her into silence, but only for a short moment.

“Ge, if you keep pushing him away, you’re going to lose him,” she says, sniffling, “You’re really going to lose him. I don’t know how long more he can take this. Do you want him or not?”

Chusheng looks down at his ring again. He can’t deny that the ring sits just right, and while he’s not sure what to think about Lu Yao, the thought of not having Lu Yao in the same house, puttering about the kitchen, singing in the shower, reading lazily on the couch, getting all dramatic when he’s hungry, and the thought of having to live alone without Lu Yao by his side is terrifying, and he doesn’t know why.

He looks up. “Where did he go?”

“Probably home, he’s not thinking very clearly,” Youning says. “Ge. Please, don’t… don’t hurt him anymore. I know it’s not your fault but… could you at least talk to him?”

“Hnn,” Chusheng nods. “Thanks, Youning. You can get home by yourself?”

“Go!” Youning urges, waving him off.

Chusheng gets onto his bike that is parked right outside Bai Le Men, and takes off. Youning sniffs again, pressing at her eyes with the back of her hands as she watches her brother chase after Lu Yao.

===

Lu Yao had a head start, but Chusheng is on his bike and he catches up with Lu Yao soon enough, just two minutes behind him. He sees Lu Yao disappear into their apartment building and quickly parks his bike on the road without even taking out the keys.

When Chusheng enters the doors to their home, he hears it — Lu Yao’s sobs from the other side of the bathroom door. He cries so hard that he’s coughing halfway through, as if he’s painfully mourning for the death of a loved one. Guilt hits him like a freight train, and Chusheng’s feet brings him to the bathroom door.

Sliding down to the floor silently, Chushung leans back and sighs.

The Chusheng that was with Lu Yao would probably beat him to death for hurting Lu Yao like this, he thinks.

Of course he knows Lu Yao is trying. Chusheng isn’t the kind to run away from a tough situation, and yet that’s all he has been doing these two months. It’s not the right thing to do, but It’s hard to look at Lu Yao and know that he’s the source of all the man’s pain.

At first, it took him a week to wrap his mind around the fact that he is in an open relationship with a man, who is nothing like the kind of women he prefers. Lu Yao is handsome, no doubt, but knowing that this man is someone he loved, someone he shared a bed with, someone he obviously trusted with no exceptions is a little hard to swallow.

Chusheng might have known him for just a few short weeks, but he thinks he might know just why he fell for Lu Yao. Maybe he should have known when Lu Yao snapped at him in the hospital, because right at that moment, Chusheng was both stunned and offended. Who would dare to speak to him like this?

Only Lu Yao, it seems, and that possibly made all the difference for him before he lost his memories. Someone who isn’t afraid of him, who doesn’t hide his intentions from him. From the days he has spent with Lu Yao, Lu Yao is childish, but never malicious. Demanding, but only when he knows he can get away with it. He has a sharp tongue, but Lu Yao is never unkind.

And when Lu Yao is with him, it’s difficult to be blind to just how much Lu Yao thinks about him. Bringing him food when he’s working late at the station, working out the knots in his shoulders and neck before Chusheng even registers the ache, and the first time he was hurt since the accident, Chusheng was taken aback at how panicked Lu Yao was for him.

The Chusheng that he is now cannot remember the last time anyone cared this much for him.

He wants to be the Chusheng that loves Lu Yao, he really does, but Chusheng doesn’t know how. That is the only reason why he’s been keeping Lu Yao at arm’s length. Chusheng wants to remember more than anything else, but his memories are still blank after two months, and what if he never remembers?

The thought of that and what it would probably do to Lu Yao makes something twist in his chest. All he wanted was to have a bit more time to think of a solution, but his hesitance, his seeming nonchalance and the lack of the slightest bit of reciprocation for Lu Yao’s efforts have culminated in this moment today, the both of them separated by a bathroom door.

Do you want him around or not?

Chusheng is absolutely certain that he doesn’t want Lu Yao to leave, even if he’s unsure about everything else. It’s a visceral, deep-seated emotion, the want to have Lu Yao near him.

His brain might not be working right, but his heart remembers.

Stupid, Chusheng knocks at his own head once, regretting everything he’s done to Lu Yao, you knock your head once and you turn stupid.

“Lu Yao,” Chusheng gets to his feet suddenly, his mind clearer than before as he knocks on the door, “Lu Yao, come out. Please? Let me explain.”

It’s too quiet on the other side of the door, and after repeated knocks, Chusheng starts to worry, various scenarios of what could have happened to Lu Yao coming to his mind suddenly, and then the worry morphs into panic.

It takes Chusheng one good slam of his shoulder into the door for the latch to come loose, and the door hits something as he tries to open it.

It’s Lu Yao, passed out cold on the floor of the bathroom.

His face is still wet with snot and tears, and it’s a testament to how the past few weeks and today have wrung Lu Yao dry, because the germaphobe in him actually laid down on the floor, uncaring of how unhygienic it might be.

Chusheng picks Lu Yao up easily, and brings him to bed.

Their bed.

It takes a few minutes to get Lu Yao changed out of his clothes and into his pyjamas and bedrobe, then Chusheng is bringing a damp cloth over, sitting down right next to Lu Yao before he starts to clean Lu Yao’s face with gentle hands. Over his eyes, his nose, his lips, his cheeks.

Looking at him up close, Chusheng sees the eye bags, and notices that Lu Yao is a little skinnier than before. The man is already skinny enough.

Did you lose sleep over me, he wonders, did you lose your appetite because of me?

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking over Lu Yao’s cheekbone. “For me, these few weeks must have been hell for you.”

Lu Yao shifts then, turning his head into the pillows with his brows drawn together in the beginnings of a frown. Chusheng cannot help but smooth both his thumbs over the tensed spot, until Lu Yao eases back into sleep proper again.

He’s going to have to find a way to fix this, Chusheng decides.

===

As luck would have it, when Lu Yao wakes up the next morning, he’s running a fever and aching all over his body. He barely has any strength to wonder why Chusheng is sitting in bed next to him, and for a moment, Lu Yao smiles, “Lao Qiao…”

When the indulgent, doting smile he’s expecting does not come, that’s when Lu Yao remembers.

With wide eyes, Lu Yao scrambles to sit up, because this is their room, and what the hell is Chusheng doing here?

“Don’t move,” Chusheng says, pressing a firm hand to his shoulder.

“No,” Lu Yao shakes his head, “I don’t want to be here-“

Chusheng glares at him, and the expression is so familiar that Lu Yao actually stops moving. “You’re running a mild fever, and we ran out of medication in the house, so Youning will be coming over later. Drink. Don’t you dare move.”

A glass of water is pressed into his hand. Lu Yao brings the glass to his lips and drinks, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of what happened yesterday, or because his throat hurts so much, or because Chusheng just glared at him after the hellish two months he’s had, but tears come to his eyes again.

“You-“ Chusheng blinks, and seeing Lu Yao’s eyes well up, he panics, “You- are you in a lot of pain? Don’t cry, Youning will be here soon, and- never mind, I’ll call the doctor-“

“Who asked you to glare at me,” Lu Yao sniffs, pushing the glass of water back to Chusheng and turning around, not wanting to look at him. “Who asked you to go flirt with pretty girls at the club? And you’re still so fierce to me, I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to leave this place tomorrow. You can have the house and all the pretty girls you want.”

“I didn’t take off the ring because I wanted to flirt with the women there-“

A pillow goes flying at his face at the mention of the ring, and Chusheng catches it deftly, taking the warning as it is. With a sigh, he inches closer to Lu Yao on the bed, and says, “Lu Yao, I shouldn’t have taken it off. I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me, okay? I- I’m not interested in any of the girls there, I promise.”

“I don’t care,” comes the muffled reply from the lump under the covers. “You can go and have any other person you like.”

“… Yao Yao,” Chusheng tries, as gently as he can. “I’m at fault, it was my mistake. Don’t be angry at me anymore. I won’t go there without you again, how about that?”

It takes a long while for Lu Yao to respond, and the silence stretches on for so long that Chusheng is about to give up, when the covers are pulled down a little so he can at least see Lu Yao’s eyes.

“You don’t have to force yourself. I can take a hint,” Lu Yao replies, and he sounds so serious, so unlike the Lu Yao he knows. “You’re not my Lao Qiao, and… it’s not right to force you to be him. I’ll move out tomorrow.”

Lu Yao keeps threatening to move out, and the last of Chusheng’s patience runs out.

“Request denied!” he scowls, “No one is moving anywhere.”

“Who are you to deny me? And who said it was a request?! I don’t want you anymore, so I’m going to leave-“

Lu Yao gets to his knees on the bed with the blanket wrapped him as he glares right back at Chusheng, ready to keep on arguing with the man when Chusheng’s hand grabs for him quickly, pulling him against him.

Trying to wriggle his way out of Chusheng’s hold, Lu Yao’s choice to wrap himself with the blanket is backfiring on him, because he can’t get free. The cage that is Chusheng's arms tighten around him, blanket and all, until he stops squirming.

“Let me go!” Lu Yao bites, trying one last kick, but Chusheng ignores him.

“Lu Yao, I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I ignored you when you were trying so hard. I was trying to figure things out, because I know when you look at me, you’re looking for the Qiao Chusheng that you know, but I’m..”

“But I’m not him.”

At the mention of that, all the fight in Lu Yao goes out of him, leaving him as deadweight in Chusheng’s arms.

He knows. Of course he does. Lu Yao’s been thinking so much these days, about what he would do if Chusheng never remembers him, if Chusheng falls in love with someone else?

Qiao Chusheng is it for Lu Yao. He’s not going to love another person for as long as he still breathes, even if this Chusheng isn’t his. Lu Yao doesn’t need him to say it out loud. Even if it kills him, he-

-he will let Chusheng go.

As if knowing what Lu Yao’s next thought might be, Chusheng’s squeezes the man in his arms.

“I don’t know if I can ever be him again. But I want to be, do you understand? So I’m asking you to give me a bit more time,” he asks, begs.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Lu Yao falls silent for a long moment. Seeing that Lu Yao is unlikely to run off if he lets him go, Chusheng’s hold loosen a little and Lu Yao sits down properly, his thigh pressed to Chusheng’s.

“If this is you feeling bad, you don’t have to-“

Chusheng lifts up his hand, interjecting, “He loves you enough to give you everything, and that person is me even if I don’t remember any of it. You can’t… Lu Yao, you can’t give up on him, on me.”

Lu Yao looks at the ring on Chusheng’s finger, then the matching one on his own. It wasn’t that long ago that Chusheng bought them. He didn’t get down on one knee either, now that Lu Yao thinks about it. No fancy, candlelight dinner, no violinist serenading them, no grand gestures — Lu Yao recalls waking up late in bed, warm and cozy under the sheets and seeing Chusheng seated next to him without making a single noise. Before he could even ask his boyfriend what he was doing, Chusheng set down a few sheets of paper on the bed between them, and a ring box.

It was not that difficult to guess what the papers were, and then the ring box sank in.

“Qiao Chusheng, you-“

“Lu Yao,” Chusheng said then, oddly somber and tender as he smiled, “I don’t have much, you know that. I don’t have much to give you either, but all I have, you can have them. The houses that Boss Bai gave me, the cars, the bike, the bank account. Just… I know we can’t get married, but… let’s get married.”

Putting his hand in Chusheng’s now, Lu Yao stares at the two gleaming rings in the light.

He said yes then, so many months ago.

And who is he kidding? If Chusheng asks, if Chusheng doesn’t push him away, nothing will make Lu Yao leave.

Their fingers intertwine, and Lu Yao finally, finally feels settled for the first time since Chusheng woke in the hospital.

“Hnn,” he nods. “But I’m telling you first, I’m giving you a year. If you don’t- if you don’t remember by then, if you want to go, you have to-“

“I won’t,” Chusheng returns simply, no hesitation whatsoever. He chuckles, “You have to promise not to run off every time I make you angry. There’re a lot of things I don’t know, and I’m counting on you to tell me.”

Lu Yao nods again, looking like a pitiful child who’s just been bullied and the image tugs at his heartstrings. Remembering that Lu Yao is still ill, Chusheng manoeuvres his boyfriend until he’s lying down flat and comfortable again.

“I’m hungry,” Lu Yao sulks, his eyes darting between Chusheng and the blanket just as the man is about to stand up and go get him another glass of water, as if testing out whether this is okay, if Chusheng will humour him.

Chusheng laughs, feeling lighter than he has since waking up without his memories faced with this Lu Yao, whining and pouting.

He guesses that he must have fell for Lu Yao like this, having no immunity against the man’s requests and probably loving how much Lu Yao relies on and trusts him, and only him.

“Okay, I’ll make some porridge,” he says.

===

Lu Yao continues to stay in their bed until he’s all recovered, and he doesn’t leave for his mattress in the study again.

They don’t touch, sleeping with each other in the same bed, but just knowing that the other is there is good enough.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in months.

===

So Chusheng starts to ask. Asks Lu Yao what he likes to eat, where he likes to go, which types of cars he likes, what they usually do on their days off and asks about Lu Yao’s family.

Lu Yao seems surprised by the questions at first, but he figures that this is how Chusheng is trying, and it constantly reminds Lu Yao to stop looking at Chusheng and expecting someone else.

As the days pass, even when Lu Yao hasn’t told Chusheng something about them yet, like how Chusheng would fetch him from wherever Lu Yao ends for the day if he’s free, Lu Yao finds Chusheng waiting for him patiently in his car no matter how late it gets, so reminiscent of their days before. While speaking to a suspect, they pass by an ice-cream store, and Chusheng goes over to get two bars of milk ice cream, passing one to Lu Yao as he bites a huge chunk off of his.

The next time they go to a couple’s restaurant, Chusheng orders the violinist again and they both chuckle under their breath as everyone turns to look at them. None of them particularly like having the violinist around, but Lu Yao appreciates the gesture.

It’s the small little things — when Chusheng hands him his wallet without a thought when they’re buying baguettes before Lu Yao has to ask for it, or when Chusheng knows just where to find him when Lu Yao runs off to hide when they're faced with a threat, or the way Chusheng shields Lu Yao with his own body when Youning approaches with a cushion, intent on beating Lu Yao for something insensitive he said.

Winter falls upon Shanghai and it’s ridiculously cold this year. The good thing is that even criminals find the weather cumbersome for crimes, which means Lu Yao more or less snuggles in under the covers at home for the season without any work, but Chusheng still has to head into the station to clear paperwork and train his men. Afraid that he would catch a cold, Lu Yao brings Chusheng’s thickest coat with him when he leaves the house and visits his boyfriend at work.

In the end, Lu Yao is frozen right to his toes with the walk to the station. Standing at the doors to Chusheng’s office shivering and sniffling, Lu Yao ends up curled on the couch with the coat he brought for Chusheng wrapped snugly around him as the inspector turns on the electrical furnace up on high, shifting the new imported appliance closer to Lu Yao.

“Why did you come over?” Chusheng asks, sitting down on the couch, both fond and exasperated. “Your skin is cold to the touch. You should have stayed home.”

“Well I thought you’d be cold, and you’re running around on some cases too, so I brought you your fur coat,” Lu Yao says. “I didn’t know it was so cold today.”

The gesture and this outcome is so Lu Yao that Chusheng can’t help but snort. The warmth that curls in his chest has nothing to do with the furnace, and without another word, Chusheng leans forward and kisses Lu Yao, brushing his lips gently across his.

Lu Yao’s entire body stiffens up at the kiss.

It’s been three months since Chusheng lost his memories, and even though they live like lovers do, sleeping in the same bed, going on dates and holding hands, they haven’t done anything other than that. No kisses even.

This is the first time Chusheng is kissing him.

A pang of longing and yearning hits Lu Yao like a bucket of cold water and he deepens the kiss, breathless. It’s been so long, so long since he could have this. He has been waiting so patiently, being so good, and tasting his reward right now makes the heartache and anguish of the first few weeks go away.

“If you continue,” Chusheng remarks as he pulls away slightly, his voice low, “You’re going to get into trouble. Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with fire?”

Lu Yao kisses him again and pushes against Chusheng, almost as if wanting to devour him in full, which is answer enough. The both of them fall back onto the couch, Chusheng’s bulk and weight over him a familiar sensation, a warmth Lu Yao has missed so much. Hands that have only held onto his own in the past few months are now trailing over his face, his jaw, his neck, the skin under shirt, and Lu Yao gasps into Chusheng’s mouth as the hands he loves slides past the waistband of his pants and inside.

He hopes that no one walks in through the unlocked doors.

That cold afternoon, no one dares to stay near Inspector Qiao’s office doors lest they disturb the two lovebirds inside.

Ah Dou and Salim, guarding the stairs leading up to the office instead, exchange thumbs ups at each other. The past three months haven’t been easy on them either, but all is good if their Si-ge and sao-zi have made up.

===

Lu Yao is content to go on like this, grateful enough that he gets to keep Chusheng, even if the man has a three-year gap in his memories. Aside from the first two months, every other day has been a gift, because who else can get to know their boyfriend all over again like this?

Things aren’t quite the same, but it is something Lu Yao and Chusheng will get through together.

Seven months after Chusheng loses his memories, a little after Lu Yao finally accepts that it’s okay for Chusheng to never remember, Lu Yao groggily wakes up in bed to shaking hands cradling his face, someone leaning over him.

“San Tu,” the voice calls, urgently, “San Tu.”

Something is wrong in Chusheng’s voice and Lu Yao snaps out of sleep immediately, sitting up. The room is dark and he can’t quite see Chusheng clearly, so he leans over and switches the lamp on.

Chusheng’s eyes are bright with tears.

Alarm fills Lu Yao as his own hands come up to hold Chusheng’s, “Why? Lao Qiao, why are you- what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, why are you crying-”

Chusheng presses his forehead against Lu Yao’s.

“San Tu,” he murmurs, almost reverently. “San Tu. San Tu.”

It doesn’t quite dawn on him for a bit, too panicked over Chusheng possibly being hurt or them being in danger for his mind to catch up, but when it finally does, all the breath leaves Lu Yao. His eyes flick upwards to Chusheng, his heart beating hard against the inside of his ribcage, because could it be-

“You haven’t called me San Tu since…” he murmurs dumbly, eyes wide.

Nowadays, it’s mostly Lu Yao and Yao Yao sometimes, when they’re in bed or when Chusheng wants to tease him. Never San Tu.

“I’m sorry,” Chusheng says so quietly that Lu Yao almost misses it. “San Tu, I’m so sorry-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Lu Yao’s lips smashes against his as they kiss desperately for the time they lost, for everything they went through together, for all that they thought was lost but have now regained.

Lu Yao laughs into the kiss a little, almost hysterical, and he knows why Chusheng is crying, because it’s all so much-

“I’m so sorry, San Tu,” Chusheng apologizes again when Lu Yao moves for a hug, squeezing the man tight against him with his head burrowed in his neck, “San Tu, you must have hurt so much, it’s all my fault-“

Shaking his head and resolutely not looking up, half afraid that this is a dream, Lu Yao breathes, “We made it. Lao Qiao, it’s okay. I love you. You know how much I love you, right?”

“Me too,” Chusheng whispers, both old and new memories melding together in his head, a little messed up, but he and Lu Yao can figure that out tomorrow. “San Tu, thank you for waiting for me.”

Lu Yao, you can’t give up on him, on me.

Chusheng’s words from a while back ring in the back of Lu Yao’s mind, at a time when Lu Yao was ready to give them up. Slowly, he interlaces his hand with Chusheng’s, the weight of their rings familiar.

Thank you for coming back to me, Qiao Chusheng.

Lu Yao shakes his head again, before pulling back and smiling at Chusheng through his tears.

“You’ll have to make it up to me, for as long as we’re alive,” he asks.

Chusheng laughs, and Lu Yao thinks, ah, here you are.

“Anything you want,” Chusheng promises.

--

[its-me-im-coraline]

Secrets and fights // Ethan Torchio

lWords // around 1k

Warnings // angst, angst as hell, much more angsty than I was planning

pairing // Ethan Torchio x Gender Neutral Reader

author's note // ooof I haven't written in a whiile and this felt so good to do it again omg. I hope the anon that requested it enjoys this as I hope everyone else will as well. send in your requests here and let me know what you think loveys. i wish it had gotten longer but having just gotten back doesn't help. anyways, still hope you will love

also let me know if you want to be tagged on my fics

request // yes, here it is

summary // Ethan is in a relationship with a member of the bands PR team, but for how long will this keep happening? Sometimes it get's a little too much until the two personalities clash.

Just as the band had gotten the world, Ethan had gotten me, by storm. It happened out of nowhere, it was not even supposed to happen. I wasn't suppose to have any intimate relationships with any of the four members of Måneskin, but it seems the beautiful Italian has put a spell on me and I could simply not resist him. Not that this was much different to him. He found something in me worth breaking the rules, but for how long?

This is actually so far from who he is. Ethan is a man of structure, even if that structure only superficial at times. He is so put together, always having a plan, always doing what he is told; when he has to, of course. It is so unlikely of him to do as much as give a look my way when he wasn't supposed, but here we are.

Me, on the other hand... Well, opposites seem to attract. I find peace in being open, daring; rebellious if you may. I can't hide, can't be controlled very easily, and maybe that was both the thing that brought us together but also the thing to drift us apart.

After their win in Eurovision, the band started touring around Europe, day in, day out, there was a different country we see, a different channel for them to be interviewed by; a different spot to hide under. But sometimes hiding away is simply not enough to keep a secret.

One of these days, in one of those countries, we finally found some time to be around each other, getting the chance to explore a different city, and just exist in the bliss of whatever we have together. Getting to be 'us' in the public eye has not been an option. Hell, anyone else knowing is not an option we have.

We were walking around the city that night, a safe distance between us, enough for us to feel comfortable but also enough to not cause any suspicion to anyone passing by. It went smooth for a while, until we found ourselves at the side of a bridge, sitting in the dark, and with my initiative, be close to each other. Big mistake. Big, big mistake. We spoke and spoke for a while, laughed a little, listened to music a little. And then I just couldn't wait, until we got back to the hotel, and I kissed him, there, in public. But it was dark, and empty, no one would know. Even bigger mistake.

The entire next morning is a fuzz. I can't remember how I was woken up, what time it was, how I even got to get ready, but I now found myself in Ethan's hotel room, fighting with him over some photos, of us kissing.

"Couldn't you be more careful, Y/N?! How many times? How many times did I tell you this was a bad idea?!" Hands are all over his hair, pulling it slightly, on occasion, a cigarette long forgotten on an ashtray by the night stand.

"Te l'avevo detto, cazzo! Shit, shit, shit!" (= I fucking told you!)

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Ethan! That I am sorry? I am your partner, I should not feel restricted to kiss you when we are alone!" Madness, this whole situation was madness. An angry boss, an angry boyfriend - all was too much too handle.

"It isn't that simple, amore and you know it," he almost whispered looking away, thinking, considering what should be said next.

"This was not supposed to happen, Y/N. Ever. This was a mistake."

"Oh, so was it so bad being with me? If you expect me to say I regret us, then you are fooled, amore." Venom dripping from my tongue. How could he say that? How could he even think about that?

"Well, maybe I do."

Silence. All that was heard was the ringing in my ears; the only thing I felt was the burning in my face. That is the moment we see how different we are. Ethan Torchio, a man that follows the rules, avoids trouble, and Y/N Y/L/N, someone that simply can not control their feelings.

"This should have never happened. They warned both of us, Y/N, do you understand me? This is - was - wrong!" His hands were all over the place, by now, hair going every witch way because of going through it so much.

"Well, signore rockstar, it looks like you didn't learn how to live your life. If you want this to end, fine, let's end it. But don't lie to yourself and say that this relationship wasn't worth it! I am losing my job, might not find another for a while, but I don't regret a second I was with you, and I certainly don't regret kissing you under that bridge last night." I got out of breath, ranting, and getting it all out- the tears not helping my case- but I was done and so was this relationship.

He looks exhausted, I can tell, and pained. As hard as this is on me, it is on him. He doesn't only have the outside world to face right now, he also has his mind. He is conflicted. What shoud've been done, what could be different, how could he stop this, how could he have protected me. A million thoughts per second and his mouth couldn't utter one word.

Silence. That was all that is heard. That is all I need in the moment to walk away. Maybe Ethan and I are too different to be together.

masterpost

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey, sorry to bother you. Uni is not online this semester and it's already stressing me out. This back and forth makes me feel like a freshman with beginner's anxiety. Any advice on hiw to cope/ how to not feel likeeveryone is ahead of you no matter how hard you try to keep up? (On a lighter note: Being able to shoot you these messages again already makes me feel better! Thank you for all you have done and do on here and the fandoms, I don't think I'd be the same person without you.)

Hey Nonny! *HUGS*

Sorry for the delay on a reply to this... I hope that your year back in-class is going a bit better now.

That said... You're literally asking the wrong person, hahahha. I CONSTANTLY feel like I'm left behind, or not good enough, or just... poor self-esteem issues and all that. Honestly, the way I've always coped is to just keep trying my best, because that's all I can really do. Guaranteed you're not the only one feeling like that, and truly, no one can expect you to get right back into the swing of things after All This™. It's been hard for everyone. Heck, I go into a mild panic when I think about having to go back to the office eventually, and for no reason other than I just really like my "freedom" I have working at home... especially since I feel I'm a lot more productive because I'm surrounded by things that make me happy, and in turn, I am comfortable and able to focus on my work.

And really, maybe that's all it takes... bring something with you to school that brings you comfort, like music, or a book you can read, or some art stuff... I've found that things like that help me with my anxiety when I'm out and about. But it's different for everyone, so really it's just all about finding what can help you ease the anxiousness.

I hope you're doing alright Nonny, and again I am sorry I missed this. Ironically, I was anxious about answering this because I was worried my answer would be dumb and you would no longer want to send me stuff, LOL. Ooof.

If anyone has any advice for Nonny, please do offer it... it's been forever since I went to school hahah. <3

Love you Nonny! <3

[orsuliya]

... the evil cousin in the book tried to "seduce" Xiao Qi even before the arranged marriage in Hulan? What was exactly her plan? Did her and her evil mum really think Awu could accept this shit?

Anyway I'm happy that Awu here is more aware of her own insecurities. She already knows about her health problems and deals with it with her own terms. Qianer's affair made her more frustrated and conscious about her own position. She is really jealous but jealousy isn't the real problem here.....she knows her husband isn't interested at all about Qianer, she doesn't doubt on his fidelity but this doesn't change the reality. Xiao Qi can accept to have a wife who can't give him sons, but the society can't. Her enemies won't never stop to use this weakness to ruin their peace or to try to usurp her position, and she can't live like this.

It's not because she doesn't trust her husband, she knows his heart but her fears are still realistic.....She even feels guilty towards him because he's giving up to have precious heirs! And no other man would do the same. (She includes even Zitan, lolololol)

That's why she tried everything to get pregnant, not only because of maternal instincts *_*

(So sorry for the long post‼️)

Hey, that plan wasn't so bad! In fact, I propose it was far more sensible than their drama shenanigans, which had little rhyme or reason. But then, that's what you get when you accept drugs from Xie Wanru.

The book establishes two things. One, Awu's aunt has an axe to grind with the main branch of the Wang clan as Wang Kai, her sole biological child, died while Turnip Wang survived and thrived. This made her resent the main branch in general and Awu's other aunt in particular. And what an excellent revenge would it be to see her own Qian'er - a daughter from a concubine no less! - lord it over the oh so high and mighty Wang Xuan in her own house! Two, childless women are vulnerable. So much so that Awu's aunt sees nothing wrong with giving Pei'er, Qian'er's sickly elder half-sister, two maids with the express purpose for using them as breeders, should Pei'er have trouble with bearing children for her new husband. Huanmi, also not a shining example of health, came to her marriage accompanied by four concubines, although we don't know the exact reason for that.

What's more, there's nothing to suggest that book!Qian'er was the toast of Langya. In fact, the aunt's total lack of resistance to the idea of marrying Pei'er off to another province - which Awu notes as somewhat suspect - combined with her general behaviour and what she says about her hometown, makes me wonder how good their situation really was. They have their name and that name is exactly what nets Pei'er a marriage into one of Jiangnan's preeminent clans... But would she rate this match if it wasn't for the pressing need to patch up political relationships with Jiangnan aristocracy via a double marriage: Turnip to Shen Lin, Pei'er to Wu Jun. Why, Pei'er is furnished with the title of Xuanning Princess, which screams of a peace marriage. Unless another peace marriage comes along, what kind of match might Qian'er expect for herself?

Well, I can tell you what kind of match she wouldn't be expecting and that is one to a man of Xiao Qi's standing, at least not as his main wife. By the time this whole mess happens he's the single most powerful man in Cheng. A glaringly childless one with no women other than his main wife. No other women = no competition. By the local standards this is not something that happens very often: Turnip's concubine count is in double digits, Song Huaien takes some at the first opportunity, I mean, who doesn't have a few concubines in their family? Well, except imperial brothers-in-law whose previous ones died in exceptionally tragic circumstances.

Since there's no competition, the only thing that Qian'er would need to do is to get with child. She bears the heir, her status goes sky-high. Especially since it doesn't look like the main wife is going to procreate any time soon. In the book it's been years and years and still nothing. And really, why should Awu be against this whole enterprise? Better a Wang girl than a stranger, right?

That Xiao Qi is Xiao Qi is another matter altogether. By the way, while in the drama his insistence on monogamy seems motivated solely by his love for Awu, it is not the case in the book. Or rather it is, but not quite, see: his tragic backstory. His aversion to having children with anybody but his main wife dates from before their marriage and is motivated by his childhood. Seeing as his mother was from a disgraced family and didn't even rate the status of a concubine, which made Xiao Qi's birth something of a disgrace, and that he ran the moment his father breathed his last... Yeah, I suspect life in the Guangling Xiao clan wasn't exactly all rainbows for a boy of comparatively low rank. Our general is simply too smart to replicate a losing strategy!

And yes, Awu's fears are entirely too grounded in reality. Sure, she believes Xiao Qi won't be faithless and it's clear that in the absence of the Re-do Wedding he must have made some sort of announcement, otherwise how come the whole country knows that their Regent doesn't accept concubines? But still, he's not the one that will feel the societal pressure and not the one who faces the rather bleak prospect of becoming a childless widow. Awu is the one who will be branded a failure if this situation persists any longer. But you know what, there is every possibility Xiao Qi might have enough power to shut everybody's mouths. Except.

Except that in the book there is one other factor that makes having children a must. Xiao Qi has been gunning for that throne for years and he's just a few steps away from his goal. The problem is this: how does one establish a new dynasty with no heirs in sight? Childlessness rather invalidates this whole enterprise and Awu is just as invested as Xiao Qi; why, at one point he gives her an out and still she tells him to go for it. This whole desperate trying for children is less about maternal feelings and more about building legacy. Which, taking their imperial ambitions into account, rapidly becomes a matter of national stability. It's already a miracle that Xiao Qi got away with abolishing the imperial system of six palaces with only a single male heir; I suspect it was nowhere near painless nor widely accepted. Without that male heir? Ooof, it simply doesn't bear thinking about!

[heretherebedork]

Sorry for the long break, I’ve been trying to think of some good premises :’)

Premise: Laundromat setting where our introverted ML likes to relax at once every week late at night. He normally is there alone until someone starts showing up and seems very determined to annoy him as much as possible.

Oh, my apologies as well! Dark is not my talent and I'm still staring at the other one with a slack jawed expression of uselessness.

Okay, ML lives at home still. He's the middle child of five and all of them live at home, as well as his grandparents, one uncle and two aunts. He is constantly surrounded by people, always. There's nothing quiet at home. Ever.

So, almost every other day, he finds an excuse to go to the laundromat after dinner. There's enough people and enough laundry that all he has to do is volunteer and someone else will take him up on the offer. And then he gets quiet time because no one else is ever there right then, not that close to dinner and bed. It's quiet and stays quiet. He brings a book and his phone and he just... relaxs.

Until, one night, Wash shows up. Wash goes to the university as ML but they have different majors and really have only seen each other once or twice on campus. Wash is also a big sports star, one of the university moons and generally a well-liked and popular guy who shouldn't be at a laundromat during dinner.

But there he is.

And ML hates him instantly. Because Wash just wants to talk. The entire time. He wants to chat and converse and joke and nudge and ML just wants to be quiet and to be left alone.

It takes less than an hour before ML explodes at Wash to just leave him alone, to stop talking, to just get away.

And ML instantly feels bad because Wash is basically a scolded puppy. He folds up in on himself and nods and steps away, completely unexpectedly.

But a week later... Wash is back. And he instantly starts chatting with ML again, talking about nothing and everything and ML snaps again. But this time, Wash just pauses and then starts talking again.

Ml is pissed. He no longer feels bad.

Soon, this starts happening at the university as well. Wash pops up whereever ML is trying to be quiet and alone and starts talking. How does he find him? No idea. ML hates it so much. He's so stressed. He can't get any time by himself. He's losing his mind.

And the next time Wash shows up, ML explodes before he can get a word in edgewise. It's all about wanting to be alone, wanting some quiet time and why Wash is so determined not to let him have any and it's a real explosion, words and tears and anger and hurt.

Wash goes quiet before he explains that he thought ML was lonely. He knew that ML didn't have many friends, really any friends, and had seen him sitting alone all the time. After seeing him alone in that laundromat when he'd gone in to do an emergency load, Wash had decided to befriend ML to make sure he wasn't alone.

ML feels guilty and vindicated and annoyed and like a bad person. He sighs. Wash is still looking like a dejected puppy, squatting on the ground and pouting at ML.

This time, at least, ML agrees to talk. He sits down with Wash and tries to explain himself... but meets a wall. Wash is a huge extrovert who just cannot wrap his mind around the idea of not wanting a huge group of friends and, frankly, Wash is way more stubborn than ML.

So they make an agreement. ML will spend time with Wash's friends on campus but in the laundromat, they're quiet. No talking unless ML starts it. And no more following him around.

Thus begins a really awkward friendship. Wash introduces ML to dozens of people all across campus, multiple sports teams, huge social groups and ML... deals with it. He does make a few friends along the way, despite himself.

And Wash starts spending a few quiet hours in the laundromat with ML one or twice a week. ML would still rather be alone sometimes... but it's not so bad when all Wash is doing is playing on his phone or reading a book or napping.

Wash starts to get more possessive of ML when they're out with his friends. He's quicker to sit at his side, wrap his arm around him and monopolize ML's attentions. He's really like a puppy now, clinging and all over him. ML's pretty confused.

Until Lime, one of his new friends, points out that he's pretty sure Wash has a giant crush on him. ML had never considered that an option. But the more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems. And the more ML admits that Wash is pretty cute. And very kind. Even if he is a bit overwhelming.

The next time they're alone in the laundromat, ML finds himself watching Wash. Especially because Wash has figured out that ML won't stop him from sitting at his feet and leaning against him. So now they sit in the laundromat with Wash snuggled against ML's legs and typically napping.

And ML watches him sleep. He slowly reaches down, touching his cheek and his forehead and then, ever so gently, his lips. He's never felt like this before. Never. And he's also never felt the absolute panic before when Wash opens his eye and crosses them at the sight of ML's fingers on his lips.

Shared panic sends them apart at that and Wash is bright red and ML is still staring at him in return. Wash opens his mouth, remembers their agreement about the quiet laundromat and covers his mouth with both hands.

But ML knows they need to talk. So he sighs, groans and comes to sit down beside Wash for a real talk. It's awkward. It's painful. ML hates it and Wash keeps giggling and blushing and scooting closer.

But, in the end, there's an agreement in place. ML will try very casual dating and Wash gets his wish of being able to wrap his arms around ML and sit on him and just generally cuddle with him.

Yeah, the first fight is the next day when Wash bounces over, flops into ML's lap in front of the rest of the school and beams up at him. ML flushes, grumbles and a moment later he's lecturing Wash about appropriate boundaries and Wash is pouting, lip trembling, and everyone is staring.

This time, Wash runs off in tears. And ML watches him go, watches everyone turn to look at him disapprovingly and groans. He goes after Wash and finds him, eventually, in their laundromat.

Wash is hurt and sitting at the foot of the chair ML normally sits in and looks up at ML... and says he doesn't want to go out any more. Not if it means getting yelled at. Not if it means walking on eggshells.

ML accepts, as much as it hurts. Agrees to go back to being friends. Nods and exhales and steps back out in the world when Wash says he wants to be alone.

But ML doesn't expect how much it would hurt. And Wash withdraws more and more each day. And Wash looks sadder each day. He's a hurt puppy and ML hates seeing him like that.

Worst of all? Wash stops coming to the laundromat.

It only takes a few days before ML finally breaks down. He stops Wash, tugs him off away from the crowds and talks to him. Asks if he's okay. Asks how he feels and expects an honest answer.

He gets tears. Wash hates pulling away from ML. But he wants a relationship where he can be open and he doesn't want to see ML uncomfortable with that either. He wants them both to be happy, as hard as it is to say that while being friends.

ML stares at Wash. Then he asks why, exactly, Wash didn't say that when they talked about trying dating? Why he didn't say he wanted to be open and public?

And ML wraps Wash in his arms in a hug, pulling the soft jock into an embrace. He sighs, admitting that he had never thought about going public. Or what that could mean to Wash. He'd really only been thinking about himself in the relationship, not both of them.

So they sit down again. And they talk. Really talk. ML forces himself to listen and Wash has to be honest. And new ideas are laid out. Wash wants to be public. He doesn't care about much else, but he wants to be able to affectionate in public, wherever they are. ML just needs Wash to still respect his quiet times and to let him leave a group when he's tired. There's more, but those are what's truly important.

And then there's a little epilogue of a postgame party where Wash and ML come out to the team via Wash plopping down in ML's lap, kissing his cheek and looking at his teammates.

No one cares.

Ooof, this one just did not quite wanna come together. BUT THERE. I definitely picture Wash as looking like a jock but really just acting like a puppy. Sweet as sugar and soft as can be and nothing like what you'd think while ML is more petite but very quiet and very stiff.

Lime is a goofball when he's on screen and he has a bestfriend named Coconut who's the sweetest girl in the world who adores Wash but doesn't have a crush on him and is one of the ones who comforts him when he breaks up with ML.

[missfluffywriter]

Purple Irises I Mafia Park Jimin x Reader

Author’s note: Ooof it’s finally out. That took way longer than I expected!!!! I’ve been MIA for like almost two weeks now. I am so sorry this was lateeee!! And we’re almost as 100k!!! Ahhh I don’t want to dissapoint anyone! Sheesh anyway, that’s it for me. Happy readings!

Word count: 12.3k

Genre: Mafia AU, (slight) Doctor au, (slight) Florist au

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

(Series) Summary: You were supposed to be delivering flowers, how did you end up in an operation room digging out a bullet from a mafia boss’ shoulder?

Purple Irises: Royalty and wisdom

Warnings: Guns, language, discription of gore, minor character death,  inconsistant grammar lol

Yes I had make that a header, the gore is like pretty discriptive and I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. I have put markers where the discription starts and where it ends if you would like to skip the the gory bits look out for the markers and just skip that little bit, you won’t miss anything important I promise!

Previous chapter I Next chapter I Masterlist I Requests are open!

‘Tansies’

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Unease lacing Jimin’s voice as he shadowed your path.

‘No, never theorize before you have data,’ You reprimand yourself, recalling one of the many pieces of advice you had filed away for future use. For all, you knew Duri may have simply liked the vibrance of the golden blooms and added the sunny flower to accent the otherwise monochrome room with a pop of color.    

“(Y/n)?” Tenderly taking your hand into his Surprisingly larger ones. His attention wholly focused on your ever-changing expression.

“Oh, uh, flower一uh tansies一 where? Where is she?” Mind working faster than your mouth could articulate, you stumble on your words, (e/c) orbs searching for a certain peach-blonde female.  

“Where is who?” Jimin questions, his honey-brown orbs narrowing in confusion, your jumbled mess of a sentence further perplexing the silver-blonde.

“Soomin!” Your answer is immediate, almost urgent as your body makes a full ninety-degree turn, holding onto Jimin's comforting grasp, your eyes hunting for the peach haired woman in the space behind you.

“What?!” The woman in question squeaks, startled by your booming voice as she enters the room, having just returned from stationing her men to accommodate the situation. Preparing them to move out at a seconds notice though maintaining a certain level of organization.

“Flowers, did Ji-Eun like flowers? Or did she have an interest in them or anything?” You question the female eagerly, gesturing to the lavender vase as she fluidly makes her way towards the object of your concerns.

Her facial features fold into a frown at your question, looking at you as though you had just asked the most bizarre of questions. “Not that I know of,”

“Do you know who might have put those there?” You blurt, eyes actively scanning over the blonde girl's expression. The imperativeness in your voice may have come out more of as panic as Jimin’s hold around your hand tightens comfortingly, which does to some length relax your posture.

“Why the fuck would I know?” She glares, exaggeratedly dropping her hands to further display her incredulity.

‘Damn it,’ Your teeth grab onto your lower lips, softly nibbling on the soft muscle. The tightness of frustration seizes your chest. This did absolutely nothing to narrow down the variables and possibilities of what had really happened, and this largely widens the margin of error when making predictions or even planning your next move. There was nothing more aggravating than missing pieces of information, especially when lives were on the line.  

“But,” Soomin’s sharp voice breaks you from your train of thoughts. “I do know that Duri would never own something as hideous as that,” Emphasizing “that”, she gestures to the slender lavender vase that held the flowers.    

And she was right, although the vase in itself wasn’t all that awful. It was just that the lilac of the vase clashed with the golden petals of the tansies and the overall aesthetic of the room. But did that actually mean something?

The skin of your palms tingled as sweat accumulated on them from both excitement and fear. Your instincts scream at you in warning, there was more to these flowers. ‘No, that still doesn’t account for every variable. One of the maids could have put it there. Or maybe she just felt like having flowers in her room,’ But this was too perfect, flowers with a meaning of a declaration of a war placed at a kidnapping site of a possible ally. But then why bother leaving a declaration of war in the language of flowers? It would have been much easier to leave it in writing, would it not?

As a matter of fact, not leaving any sort of note or evidence of their presence would have given the kidnappers - or rather the Yeongs - a bigger advantage. So why go through the trouble of declaring war through flowers? And flowers of all things; if you hadn’t been there, the men and even Soomin together wouldn’t have caught it.

Your eyes widen at the thought; if you hadn’t been there no one would have noticed this message - if it was a message. And it clicked, this was a warning, a proclamation. And the reason behind the effort put into this covert notice. This message wasn’t just for anyone to find, this was a message for you to find and in translation for Bangtan. This was Yeong's declaration of war against Bangtan. But more than that, they were targeting you. They chose to relay their words through you.

In other words, this was a warning to you as much as it was for Bangtan. This was their way of letting you know they knew you existed and that they were preparing to deal with you as well. If they knew of your hand in the recent achievements then their mole must be much closer than you might have earlier anticipated.  

“Jimin,” You breath out, your grip on his hand tightening in distress.

“What is it?” Jimin soothingly rubs his thumb back and forth, trying to ease your hold and worry.

“Tansies,” You say. “Tansies mean hostility, “I declare war against you”,” Eyeing the male you guide his thoughts to where yours were. The whites of his eyes are a little more visible as his eyes spread a tad apart, understanding what you were insinuating to.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice breathy in the same disbelief you were in earlier. You reply with a tentative nod, his expression souring as he turns to the peach-blonde female leaning against the wooden desk. “And you’re positive it was the Yeongs that called for this attack?” He asks Soomin.

“Well, considering we have security footage of one of Yeong’s closest men calling the shots on the scene,” She scoffed at the male’s question. “So yes, I’m sure,”

“So does this mean what I think it means?” Taehyung quips from his seat on the sofa.

“This is Yeong’s move,” Jimin mutters, his honey-brown orbs narrowing as he moves towards Taehyung and Hoseok.

“So Yeong’s called a war against you, huh?” Soomin’s voice audibly drops an octave, her chocolate-colored orbs sharpening into a glare.

“We’ll have to be extra careful from here on out,” You state, singing as you rest your weight on the desk behind you.

“What a shit storm,” The chestnut-haired breaths out as he rests his head against the back of the sofa.

“I can’t exactly speak for Duri but,” Soomin pauses. “Know that you can expect my full support going on out,”

“Oh?” Taehyung eyes the female.

“Yes,” She affirms confidently. “Yeong dares to take one of my own, my mother, no less. The bastard isn’t gonna get away with this,” Growling as she spoke, anger burned in her chocolate irises.

“We appreciate your support,” Jimin replies formally. An action you wholeheartedly agree with. If Yeong was on the move then Bangtan had to begin preparations as well.

“Don’t worry we can go over those details some other time,” Soomin waves her hand dismissively, knowing you wouldn’t have been satisfied with just her vow.

“Thank you,” Your eyes fall to the floor, head tilting down in respect to the girl.

“And I guess I should thank you too, huh?” Looking to the ebony-haired male that had been standing silently to the side.

“Huh? Me?” Hyuk questions, his eyes blowing wide as he points a finger to himself.  

“Yes, you,” Chuckling, you nod. “If you hadn’t pointed out the flowers I would have totally missed it.”

“Oh, no!” Hyuk furiously shakes his head from one side to another. His cool disposition melting in a flustered mess. “I was just trying to make conversation, and those flowers were the first thing that caught my eye was all.”

“Well, I’m glad it did,” You smile at the slender man as he fakes a cough, gathering together his composure. “Thank you, Hyuk,” You softly express your gratitude, partly to further fluster the male.

“Uh, no probl一”

“We found her!” Namjoon charges into the room, cutting off the ebony-haired male. A cell-phone in hand, Namjoon power walks to Jimin. “Ji-Eun was there at the location,”

“She was?! Are you sure? Was she okay?” Soomin kicks herself off the desk as she practically rushes Namjoon.

“Yes,” Namjoon speaks. “The location you gave me led us to an abandoned building way far up in the mountains. I had operatives closest to the location scope it out and the building was guarded by Yeong’s men and she was there. Ji-Eun Duri was seen on the third floor of the building,” He narrated the situation.

‘This feels too easy,’ Your forehead knitted together as you listened to the male. Now that you knew of Yeong’s awareness of you, this was too easy, too simple, too straightforward. After everything that’s happened, it couldn’t be possible that straight forward. Almost as if someone had dictated the direction of the scene, like this was meant to happen.

Really thinking about the whole situation, this worked out too perfectly, considering a thousand variables that could have been in play. This scenario was far too ideal. If Duri’s captors had the time to place those flowers. ‘The footprints!’ Your head snaps to the floor as you examine muddy footprints left behind by the kidnappers.

And sure enough, none of the footprints led towards the vase, all of them stopped quite a distance from the desk. So unless they threw the vase onto the desk, someone else either planted the flowers late on or there was someone else with the kidnappers. But the question was who? And if all of this was scripted by the Yeongs then what was the real goal? What were they after?

‘Think, come on think. There must be something I’m missing! What could they gain by kidnapping Ji-Eun Duri? Why Ji-Eun Duri? And Why today? Why would they take her only to let us find her?’ Your breath caught in your throat as you realized you had just answered your own question. ‘So that’s what’s going on,’  

“Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?” Soomin’s booming voice startles you from your thoughts. “Let’s get going already!” She briskly stomps out of the room.

“Hyuk,” Jimin calls for the charcoal-haired male. “Follow her and make sure she doesn’t get herself killed,”

“Sir,” Hyuk salutes before hurting after the female that had stormed out the room. Though normally the peach-blonde was a rational woman, however, going by the way she charged away. Her sense of reason may not be at its peak at the moment.    

“Where is our team right now?” Shining, Jimin asks Namjoon.

“I told everyone to be on standby a good distance from the actual building. Which was made easy thanks to the place being surrounded by a forest,” The syrup-brown haired man reports.  

“Good, tell them to stay there until we get there,” The silver-blond nods approvingly, making his way toward the exit before noticing your lack of presence.

“(Y/n)?” Calling for your name, the don pivots on his foot to meet your rattled expression as you stiffly stood by the desk.

“Where are Jiyoung and his family being kept?” You ask the two men.

“At one of our safehouses farther away from the city… Why?” Namjoon answers his calm features hardening into a serious expression.  

“Jimin, Namjoon before we leave, can you do something for me?” You request.

“What do you want me to do?” The taller of the pair inquires, looking down at his boss questioningly.

“Man, they really dragged us out, huh?” Taehyung yawned, stepping out of the luxurious short limousine, he stretched his limbs.

“Where is Duri?” Soomin demands the minute she steps out of her sleek black SUV.

“Over there,” One of the many well-dressed men points to a cloud-grey, four-story building situated a distance away, and the more you examined it, the more it looked like a school. “She is being held in one of the rooms on the third floor.”

“How many of them are there?” Jimin comes to stand beside the peach-blonde as he questions the man standing before them.

“Not many,” The male answers. “Ten or fifteen at most,”

“That’s it?” Soomin blanches at the man’s reply.

“Yes, ma’am,” He respectfully responds.

“Report,” Jimin commands as the other man bows before beginning.

“The main and back entrances are each guarded by two guys. From what we could see there are men on each floor stationed around the stairs or hidden in rooms. The first floor has the most men, the second floor has fewer men, but the third floor is the least guarded,” He gives a detailed report of the situation.

“Do they have a sniper?” Namjoon asks.

“Not that we’ve seen,” A diplomatic answer if you’d ever heard one. The hickory-brown haired male that had been explaining the situation cleanly offered his findings without promising or assuring you of anything. You would have to remember to bring him up at the meeting, he could prove useful in a higher position, but at the same time, he could also become a threat. ‘No, stay focused,’ Shaking your head you refocus yourself on the task at hand.

“Send out the snipers, we’re going with the usual,” Jimin directs both the man standing before and Namjoon, who acknowledged the command with a nod, walking towards the group that had been gathered.

“The usual?” You question the silver-blonde.

“We attack with all our forces while our snipers provide support from a distance,”

“So basically you’re gonna rush ‘em,” You retold what you had taken away from the mafia don’s plan.

“Pretty much yeah,” Taehyung chirps in, hands behind his head, he strolls over to where you stood.

“What if they use Ji-Eun as a hostage and threaten to kill her?” A questioning brow lifts on your face as you ask the group of three men and a woman.

“I… didn’t think that far,” Taehyung pauses, surprised, his eyelids fluttering as his hands drop to his sides and into his pant pockets.

“Right,” You huff a breath as your brain moves to formulate a plan that would give you a better chance of getting Duri out of her captors hold, safely and quickly. Eyebrows furrowing together, your forefinger moves up to rub the skin underneath your lower lip.

Duri’s safety was the top priority, you needed a plan that ensured Duri’s well being while effectively dealing with the armed men and minimize damage and loss for both Bangtan and Soomin.

“First things first, we need to take care of the men closest to Ji-Eun. Then we can deal with the others as they come,” Heaving a deep sigh, you decide to speak your thoughts aloud when your imagination begins running rampant and muddling any coherent plan that may have formed.

“Tell me,” You call for the attention of the three men standing before you, the same thoughtful expression present on each of their faces. “Can the snipers take out the people guarding Ji-Eun?” You ask.

“Uh. We’ll have to draw them to a place where the snipers have a clear shot,” Jimin answers.

“But that doesn’t mean we would get them all and I don’t think the guys from the first and second floors would do nothing when they hear gunshots firing,” Taehyung adds, waving his hand dismissively as if rejecting your idea.

“If we could somehow clear the first floor, lure the men from the second floor to the first and take care of them there while taking out the guys up top, then we’d be golden,” Stringing together the few intelligible thoughts that you retained from the jumbled mess your mind had been.

“We sure would, wouldn’t we?” An aloof hum leaves the chestnut-haired mafioso’s lips.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” You grumble at his unproductive contribution to the conversation.

“Well then, why don’t we do just that?” A rich, honeyed voice resounds in the vicinity.

“Hyuk,” You say the name of the owner of the sweet voice. “There are too many variables, too many things that could go wrong,” You explain, providing examples of the many mishaps that could occur. “Like what if we don’t get all of the guys from the third floor? Or what if someone from the second floor got to the third floor?”

“Plus, we can’t exactly use guns,” Jimin chimes into the conversation.

“And why can’t we use guns?” Nose scrunching in confusion Taehyung asks.  

“Were you even paying attention?” Your question flatly, your black gaze staring him down. “The loud sound would give us away,” You explain with another deep breath as exasperation made its way into your system. The situation was much more complicated than you had originally expected.  

“No. I think guns will be plenty useful,” Hyuk strums as his forefinger swipes across his cupid’s bow. 

“Oh really? And how would that be?” Shifting your weight in your other foot, you ask. 

“Just leave it to us,” He says, much to your confusion.

“Us?” You repeat.

“Well, them,” The charcoal-haired mafioso gestures to the group of men and woman standing behind him.

“Them?” Your face scrunches at the male’s vague words. 

“Yes, with the team gathered here today,” Hyuk further explains with a proud smile. And though your expression remained muddled with confusion.

“And just what exactly do you intend to do?”

“Hm, I’m surprised you don’t already know,” Your features sour at his words, though it wasn’t exactly his words that off-put you, it was his mocking tone of voice. Besides, did he expect you to know everything?

“And just what might that be?” You ask the ebony-haired male.

“It’s simple really,” He answers. “We’ll need a distraction upfront while people sneak in from the back. And when it comes to Ji-Eun-ssi, our snipers will be watching her until our rescue team has a chance to get to her,”

You fall into silence as you consider Hyuk’s plan. It was by no means a foolproof plan, but a plan nonetheless. It was a gamble seeing as you would be risking the lives of those who would be playing decoy, but it was absolutely better than just rushing into the enemy’s fortress without an organized plan of attack. You look to Jimin for his take on the matter and you see the same consideration that you had displayed on your face.

“Jimin,” At the call of his name he lifts his gaze to meet yours. To find the same question in your (e/c) orbs that he had been mulling over. After seeing a deep breath leave Jimin’s plump lips, you decide it would be better to do something than doing nothing.

Tentatively you pull Jimin’s soft hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze simultaneously letting him know of your thoughts. His eyes fall to your hold before returning the comforting gesture, a soft smile curling onto his plump lips.

“Alright then, change of plans,” The don finally speaks. “Namjoon split the team into two, we will be going with this new plan,” He commands, piercing gaze landing on the syrup-brown haired man.

“Got it,” With a sharp nod, Namjoon turns towards the crowd standing by.  

“Taehyung, Hyuk, you two are with me,” Removing his expensive navy suit blazer, then undoing the cuffs of his shirt, Jimin instructs his operatives. “We’ll be going with the infiltration team,”

“Oh. You’re dead fucking wrong if you think you’re leaving me here,” Soomin’s pointed voice cuts through the atmosphere as she shrugs off her black, business-casual blazer. Subsequently revealing a glossy, cinnamon-brown, leather double shoulder holster, two jet-black guns neatly tucked in their spaces.

“Do what you want,” Jimin’s voice drowns in apathy as he inspects one of the guns from his double shoulder holster - the gun you recognized as a tanfoglio force. You don’t exactly remember much about that particular gun; it looked awfully similar to the one you were carrying. ‘Now’s not the time for that!’ Admonition yourself for drifting thoughts, you return to the situation at hand.  

“We’re going to be in enemy territory, be careful, watch yourself. And remember, the idea is not to get killed,” Separating from your little huddle, Jimin continued, once satisfied with the state of the weapon and securing it back into its place. Soomin and Taehyung wordlessly followed as the mafia boss made his way towards the decently sized group of men and women gathered.

Unsure of what you were supposed to do, you quietly trail behind the trio, assuming you would be tagging along as you had been up to this point. However, you were sorely mistaken as you were stopped by the baritone voice of a certain chestnut-haired mafioso.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Taehyung asks, stepping directly in front of you.

“Uh, with you guys?” Your answer comes out as more of a question, seeing as you yourself weren’t sure of where you were supposed to be or go.

“No, you are not,” Jimin interjected, gently pulling you into him with an arm, a gesture you gladly obliged, making yourself comfortable in his hold.

“Well, then where am I supposed to be?” Craning your head towards the silver-blond you ask.

“Here,” Jimin casually replies.

“Here?” Mimicking the mafioso’s words, you look at the male questioningly.

“Yes, here,” He says, his eyes drifting to Hoseok’s form. “While we take care of that, you and Hoseok are staying right here,”

“So, you want me to stay back?”  

“Exactly,” Jimin nods.

“Why?” The question flies out of your mouth before your brain could register what was coming out of your mouth.  

“You already know why,” The silver-blond’s response is immediate as his eyes narrow at the unusual amount of attitude that laced your voice. You lowered your head as his hardened gaze fell onto you. He was right, you did know why you were being left behind. With your current level of skill, you were more of a hindrance than any help.

“Just stay here, okay?” Sighing, Jimin pulls you into a proper embrace as he speaks to you softly, delicately even. “We’ll be back soon enough,” The warm breath of his whisper brushes against the inner shell of your ear ticklishly before moving his lips higher tenderly placing a lingering kiss on your temple.

The action sent the metaphorical butterflies of your stomach into a frenzy. There it was again, the Jimin effect, you contemplated officially naming this - now - regular phenomenon. With an inaudible groan, you bury your flushed face into his neck, sluggishly nodding a ‘yes’. Before a single coherent thought is finally able to process in your brain.

“Wait if I can’t go, then why are you going?” You ask, tilting your head upwards to meet two gorgeous pools of honey - which are Jimin’s eyes.

“Because I’m the boss,” The nonchalance in his tone truly astonished you, your agape mouth a clear sign of your amazement and dismay. How could he talk about walking into a dangerous and very much so a life-threatening situation so calmly, so easily?

“Isn’t that more of a reason to not go?” You blanch at he male’s coolness.  

“No,” You receive a single worded answer as he gently presses a chaste kiss on your forehead before releasing you from his warmth.

“But一”

“Everything is set, we’re ready to move out,” Namjoon’s firm voice interrupts your oncoming rebuttal to Jimin’s short statement.  

“Then let’s move out,” The silver-blond moves further away from you, though you suspect he was purposefully ignoring you.

“Jimin wai一” You call, only from the man to completely discounts your voice, continuing on his path. ‘He’s ignoring me isn’t he?�� Relenting with a sigh you instead decide to wish the group their best. “Be careful out there,” To which Jimin acknowledges your words, turning to give you an adorably sheepish grin. Before his gaze flickered to the crimson-haired male standing beside you, his golden honey orbs hardened into a chilling stare, a wordless warning.  

“And they’re gone,” You say, heaving another breath, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. In your mind you were sure Jimin would be perfectly fine, he had been in the business for years, life-threatening situations were nothing new to him; he had faced and survived many of these situations since before you had arrived. So why would this be any different? He had survived many times before, he could surely do it again. Yet you still couldn’t help but worry your head off. The rational side of you knew he would be fine, but the irrational side of you ached to be by Jimin’s side to personally make sure he returned safe and sound. Not that you had the skill to actually pull that off.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? As long as Taehyung’s with him, nothing will happen to Jimin,” Sensing your inner turmoil, Hoseok offers words of cheerful reassurance. “Besides I think he’s just trying to protect you,” He was absolutely trying to protect you. If the scowl Jimin had given him was anything to go by. Hoseok was convinced that regardless of if you had prior experience in the field or not, Jimin would have most certainly made you stay behind. A cold shudder reverberated through Hoseok’s body as he recalled the withering glare Jimin had thrown at him. A silent warning, saying something along the lines of “anything happens to her and it’s on your head”.  

“Let’s go sit inside the car, yeah?” The scarlet-haired male gave you the best smile he could muster with Jimin’s warning still ringing in his head. Hoseok had seen the young don when he was angry - when he was truly angry. The palpable chaotic fury that rolled off the don moved in waves, crashing against all those who stood around him. The reason not many knew of the true extent of Jimin’s anger was that few ever survived his wrath. The silver-haired mafia boss was nothing to be trifled with on a good day, one could only imagine what he was like on a bad day.

Hoseok may have been close with the don, but you too held a special place in the mafia boss’ heart. Considering that factor, it would be near impossible to anticipate Jimin’s reaction should anything happen to you.  

“Aren’t you going to sit with me?” Your delicate voice brings the mafioso back from the flashbacks of an angry Jimin on catastrophic rampages.

Hoseok gulps down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth before answering you, “Uh, no, I need to be out here, just in case they need me,”

“Oh, okay,” You return, closing the car door as you did.

Just as you had settled into your seat, the sharp, deafening sound of gunfire reverberated through the area, the pops of gunshots so loud they were heard over five-hundred feet away.

For minutes you sat silently, (e/c) orbs thoughtlessly tracing the stitches and ridges of the leather seats. The popping and booming of gunfire becoming nothing more than white noise, a strange emptiness taking over you. No thoughts passed your mind, you could feel yourself sitting down, you could feel the sharp biting sensation of running your nails up and down the first knuckle of your forefinger. Eyes zeroing in on a single point on the plush seat, it was almost as if your body had been locked in place, you could feel but you could not move - not fully at least, but it was more of you didn’t want to move.

You weren’t sure just how long had passed in this frozen state, but you were broken from your spell-bound state when your ears started ringing from the silence of the area. Inhaling through your nose, you leaned against the back of the car seat, stretching your arms as a drawn-out yawn leaves your lips. Wiping away the tears that had pooled at the corners of your eyes, you rub circles on the pinna of your ear once the ringing from the quiet becomes too uncomfortable. ‘It’s too quiet,’  

Fully registering your thoughts, your eyes fly open, head swinging towards the car door where Hoseok had been standing against. The crimson-haired male had a similar look of confusion playing at his expression; head sawing from one direction to another, trying to make sense of the sudden quiet that had fallen on the previously bustling battlefield.  

“What’s going on here?” Quietly mumbling to yourself, you gently push open the car door. Hoseok jumped, his hands automatically reaching for the guns tucked away in his shoulder holsters when he heard the door behind him open, his attention having been concentrated on gauging the situation, deciding on whether to send you home or not.  

“Hoseok, what happened? Did they win?” Dangling your feet out of the car, you awkwardly ask, your proper communication skill having disappeared in that instance.

“Aish, (Y/n),” He sighs moving aside, allowing you space to step out of the car. “You surprised me.”

“So, are we done here?” Pushing the door closed, you ask the mafioso.

“I’m not sure,” He mutters, his hand coming to brush against his lips. “I haven’t heard anything from either team,”

A soft ‘oh’ leaves your lips as you watch the direction the two groups had left. ‘I don’t like this,’ The eerie stillness felt something akin to the calm before a storm. Anxiousness bubbled and churned in your chest, your palms getting clammy with your sweat when you suddenly felt your heart drop. A cold pricking sensation rapidly spreading throughout your body like vines of ice wrapping around your insides. Inhaling through your mouth while your mind flies in a thousand different directions trying to figure out why you felt that chill.  

‘Just as BBC Sherlock Holmes said, “Intuitions represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” So think! There has to be something!’ With your brain running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were forming, and even if they were forming you would forget them not a minute later as too many thoughts and scenarios all playing out in your head at once. Deciding your brain had once again failed you and that nothing comprehensible was coming out of it the next best thing would be to go into the building in person.  

“We should go up there,” You breathe out, which was also the only warning you gave the crimson-haired male before storming towards the abandoned building.

“No, we’re gonna stay he一 (Y/n)!” Hoseok gets no more than five words in before he is chasing after you as you scamper off in the direction of the building.

“Come on slowpoke!” You exhorted, daring him to catch up to you. A horrible idea really, seeing as he was faster than you and would probably catch you before you even reached your destination, but more than that you weren’t sure what you would do once inside the building.

Usually, you would never rush into unpredictable situations where you weren’t sure just what exactly could happen or situations you had an obvious disadvantage in, but here you were charging headfirst into a practical battlefield with little to no fighting experience. ‘So much for being rational,’ You scoffed to yourself, though you knew you were running straight into the belly of the beast, you could feel the light flutter of excitement, however today, you didn’t have to bite back an excited grin. The ominous chill you had felt earlier was still ever-present, sitting at the forefront of your mind. And you knew this somehow involved Jimin, which only caused your stomach to churn.  

“(Y/n), come back here!” All of the scarlet-haired mafiosos’ words fell to deaf ears. Not really, truthfully you were hearing every on of Hoseok’s words and you actually wanted to go back to the limo as there was a large possibility you would become a major hindrance to the people fighting, but something was happening, something bad, and you needed to be there to prevent it, only the question was, what was happening?  

“What?” A quiet whisper that leaves your lips as your head frantically sways one side to another taking in the sight, or rather a lack of one. There were no people, no cars, no weapons, nothing; just barren empty grounds. You slow down to a jog as you cautiously enter the building. What exactly was happening here?

BANG BANG

You flinch when the loud booms of gunfire reach you, your eardrums ringing as you slowed further into a stalk as you navigated through the desolated building. But a single question rang in your head louder than any gunshot had, if there were people inside then why wasn’t there anyone outside?    

As you quietly climb the staircase to the second floor, once again notice the lack of personale, enemy, or otherwise. The first floor was supposed to be just as heavily guarded was it not? So why was it deserted?

“(Y/n),” Hoseok growls, roughly tugging at your upper arm, you turn to look at him as his grip tightens. “We’re leaving now.” He barks, pulling you down the steps.

“Hoseok, Hoseok, come on,” Your attempt to call for his attention fails as he continues on his path with you in tow.

“What were you thinking!?” He chides you sternly. “What if something happened to you? What if you got hurt? What if they took you hostage too, huh?”

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You struggle against his stronghold, though your intent was to break free from his grasp, all you could do was struggle as Hoseok’s vice-like hold being too powerful for you to break. And thankfully he does. Halfway down the stairs he pauses and turns to you, though begrudgingly, he gives you the attention you requested.

“What?” The single word comes out like a quiet snarl.

“Guns are firing on the second floor, you can hear the fight going on up there. But the first floor is deserted, practically empty, why?”

“How about we go back to the car and then you can sit there and figure that out, yeah?” He says stiffly, turning to continue on his path.

“Hoseok, listen to me,” You plead, futile wrestling against the stronger male’s grip.

“I did and now we’re leaving,” Huffing, he turned raring to leave. 

“Look, we're already here,” You exclaim, jerking your arm towards you, though his hold doesn’t falter in the slightest, instead just moving with your actions.

“Not for long,” Scoffing, he simply ignores your struggles as he moves.

“Hoseok,” You call helplessly, which is again met with indifference. ‘Alright then, be that way,’ If Hoseok was going to be difficult then you would have to get creative. You needed a distraction, something that would loosen his hold. But what?

You desperately searched for something, anything you could use when a wicked smile danced on your lips as you found your distraction.

“Jimin watch out!” Hollering at the top of your lungs, you tear your arm from Hoseok’s grip, his hold loosening as he processed your words. Immediately you break for the second floor, skipping steps at a time, you launch around the corner and into the corridors.

“Jimin, where?一 (Y/n)!” The red head’s voice booms as he races after you. “Wha一 (Y/n)! Don’t!”

All sense of caution out the window you focus on getting as far into the building as you could before you were caught again, a terrible idea.

“(Y/n)! Get down!” You barely register Hoseok’s words before the next thing you knew the floor was getting larger. ‘Larger?’ The only thought you were able to make out as a series of ear-splitting gunshots echo throughout the floor. And this was much, much louder than the one you had heard earlier as if they were right beside you.

‘Oh, right,’ Perhaps they sounded as though they were beside you because they were right beside you.  

“My God! I thought you were supposed to be smart!” Hoseok shouts as he brings you closer to his body. Leaning against the wall next to the door, he returns fire, making sure to push you further against the wall to completely hide you from sight.

You wince when more gunfire follows, the already blasting noise of the shots reverberating against the wall of the abandoned building and becoming louder. ‘Earbuds,’ Quickly fishing out the noise-canceling earbuds and stuffing them at the entrance of your ear canals, effectively muffling most to all of the sounds.  

“What the fuck?!” Hoseok curses while with practiced movements his hands automatically remove the used cartridge, changing them with new ones. ‘How many of them are there?!’ Carefully aiming at one of the two men that had been shooting at you he manages to injure one of them. But this wasn’t right, the first and second floors should have been cleared by now, so why were they still here? Alive at that?

“Shit,” He mutters as he ducks back behind the wall as a few more shots follow. His head snaps to his side when he feels a hand tightly clutching at his arm. ‘Now's not the time for that,’

Heaving out a sigh he uses the hand he had been holding the gun with to cover yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze with the gun still in his hand. His eyes soften when he sees your expression, eyes wide, eyebrows knitted, and lips tugging downwards, worry, and concern written across your face. However, this expression was different from your (e/c) orbs pooled with guilt and anxiousness. And he knew the idiot of a woman sitting beside him was worried for him much more than herself.

“(Y/n), listen carefully,” He speaks gently. “Go to the first floor and hide, then when you can get back to the car and get out of here. Here are the keys一” Your eyes fall to the single key with a sunflower keychain he places in your palm. “一It doesn’t matter where you go, just get as far as you can. Then contact one of the guys, and they’ll come to pick you up wherever you are. But, if you can, go back to the mansion, okay?” He instructs, but this felt much more like a goodbye, which you absolutely did not like. He didn’t even ask if you could drive or not. Regardless, you were not leaving, not yet, not without Jimin... and everyone else of course.

“And don’t forget, Yoongi gave you those for a reason,” His gaze points to the two firearms strapped to your thighs. “If you think you need it, use it,”

“Why are you talking as if you’re not gonna be with me?”

“Because I’m not,”

“Like hell, you’re not,”

“Okay, you were right. Something’s going on here, all this,” He gestures to the space around you. “Doesn’t feel right. And it’s become too dangerous for you to be here. So, you need to go home”

“Then you’re coming with me,”

“No, I am not,” He sighs. “I need to stay here,”

“Why?” You ask petulantly.

“Look, if we both leave then they’ll follow us, so I need to stay here and distract them while you get the hell out of here. Then I’ll just meet up with Jimin and the others,”

“I’m not going, Hoseok,” not without him, the words are left unsaid and you’re not sure whether Hoseok understood the unheard words or not. But more than that, no matter how experienced he may have been, one man against - god knows how many enemies - were not the odds you were leaving him in - not that you were leaving.

“(Y/n), you need to go,” The male pleads, exasperation evident in his voice. “Please,” He adds.

Beats pass though not a moment goes by without the constant barrage of enemy fire, just how many of them were there?

“Fine, I’ll go,” Gruffly, you mutter. You didn’t like the idea of leaving Hoseok in such unfair odds but you also knew that this was perhaps the only opportunity you would get to find what your senses have been roaring at you to find. 

“Thank you,” Hoseok breathes a sigh of relief. “Alright, when I say go, you go,”

You nod at his instructions, you face to the opposite direction Hoseok was, reading yourself to bolt away.  

“Alright go!” You launch off of your position, straight towards the staircases, and up to the third floor. Hoseok’s eyes widen as he watches you ascend to the third floor.  

“(Y/n)!一shit!” Ducking away from the gunshots his eyes fill with panic as he sees your figure disappear up the steps.

“Jimin’s gonna skin me alive,” He snarls before digging for his second gun and fully entering the room, pure rage and irritation filling his veins. ‘Oh, you’re gonna get it the minute I find you!’  

“I’m sorry Hoseok, but I need to do this,” Though in hindsight you never said you were going back to the car, you only said you would go, not where to.  

‘Okay,’ Crouching, you cautiously approached the closest room to the staircase, though making sure to divert a part of your awareness behind you.  

You could hear the muffled booms of gunshots as you made your way closer to the first door. Though judging by how faint the sounds were, you knew the shootout was happening farther up than where you were.

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧ 

However, you maintained your cautiousness as you slowly peeked into the room. And the sight that welcomed you was nothing less than bloodcurdling, it was like you were in the set of a horror movie as any normal human being seeing this would be retching their guts out. Not many people understand the true extent of damage a bullet can really do. They don’t realize that a single bullet has the ability to not only pierce tissue but also shatter bones and even dislocate limbs, especially when in close quarters.

Bringing your palm to cover your mouth, your eyes rove across the room, taking in the sight before you. Lifeless bodies were scattered across the floor. For some you could see the damage that had been done; one of the bodies had been shot somewhere on the jaw, and the whole jaw had been destroyed, as a matter of fact, not much of the jaw was left. You could see some portions of the cheeks though the tissues frayed and torn with only parts of the upper jaw remaining.

The other bodies were in similar conditions, holes blasted through the flesh and bones alike. Leaving ruptured cracks and gaps in the muscles, chunks of flesh litter around the bodies, blown off by the bullets that pierced the flesh. Large rust-colored splotches decorated all corners of the room, no area had been left untouched, almost as if carnage itself had washed over. Although the sheer amount of dried blood would have been enough to make the sight gruesome, in this case, the blood was only a cherry on top.  

✧•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•✧

Tearing your eyes from the horrendous sight of the room, you quickly charge ahead, caution once again was thrown to the wind as you try to accept your new reality. This was your new reality, this was your life, this was the world you had entered.  

Your eyeballs burned as tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. When coming into this life, you thought you knew what you were getting into, what lied ahead of you, what would become of you. You thought you knew, and you did, you knew this would become a part of your life. But knowing that something is a part of your life and watching it become a part of your life, were two very different things.

It was true you had your strange bouts of excitement at the most inappropriate times, in places where you should be fearing for your life, or fearing for someone else's life. But that didn’t mean you weren’t scared, that you didn’t fear the worst, however, that also didn’t mean you fully understood the worst.

Back then, perhaps you didn’t, it was more likely that you didn’t. Sure, you knew people would get hurt, blood would be shed, lives would end. You knew that in your mind, you understood it in your conscious, but seeing the death, the hurt, the destruction was much different from simply knowing about it.  

And now that you truly understood the weight of death, you were scared - terrified. Perhaps it may have been much more bearable if you had only your own life to fear for, but you didn’t. You had eight other lives to worry about. Shelty, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk, and Jimin. Jimin.

You could feel a bitter-cold chill spread through your back, all the way to your feet as images of your dear friends in the same state as those people you had found earlier came to mind. Swallowing the lump in your throat you forcefully push away the image as far away as you could. Trying to forget the horrifying thought altogether, you shake your head clearing your mind, refocusing on the task at hand.

Breathing in a deep breath, then slowly exhaling, you steady yourself before moving on.

As carefully and as discreetly possible, you poke your head through the next door. And this room was in a similar condition as the first one. Tearing your eyes from the sight, you move on to the final door. However, the final room before the turn that continued onto a new corridor was without any traces of bloodshed. The room itself was old and worn down but bodies didn’t litter the floor or blood painted the walls.

Heaving out a breath you continue down to the end of the hallway before turning to the new corridor. And you could hear the muted booms of gunfire, though this time there were a lot fewer than before. And seeing as you were on the way to - what you were assuming - the only set staircase in the building, so there could only be one explanation to the reduced numbers of gunshots. People were dying. And you could only hope your friends were safe.  

Quietly, you unlatch the strap holding your tanfoglio witness in place, removing the gun from its holster, you point the nose of the gun towards the floor. Inhaling and exhaling deeply you stabilize any shaking or jittering. If you were going to use such a destructive weapon you couldn’t afford to make many mistakes.

Muzzle pointing downward, hands tightly clutching the grip, you move into the new hallway. Taking deliberate steps you stalk towards the first door in the hallway.  

Courtesy to the noise-canceling earbuds protecting your hearing you couldn’t hear much aside from muffled gunshots and muted shouting coming from the end of the long hallway. And because of those earbuds, you had almost missed the sounds of struggles coming from the first door.

Leaning against the wall along the door, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in that room. ‘What?’ Eyes the size of saucers, you watched motionlessly. The scene before you looked as though your nightmares had come to life.

Jimin, pinned to the wall by a tall, bulky man. Held to the wall by his throat, you couldn’t clearly see his face, but you could never mistake the silver platinum mop that was Jimin’s hair.  

“Why don’t you just die already!?” A cry so loud you could hear the hulking man with dark mocha brown hair through your earbuds.

“Jimin?” A faint whisper leaves your lips. The words are so soft that it goes completely unnoticed by the two men.

Seconds pass of you standing there, unmoved, mind blank as you thoughtlessly started. But then your body moves as if it knew what to do before you did. You don’t feel yourself moving however, as your eyes remained fixated on the figure before you, there was a gun held up in your peripheral vision. And it was your arms that held the gun. You don’t feel anything happen but you were leaning forward, arms ready to support the backlash of gunfire. For seconds the gun bounces with the rhythm of your breathing. Up and down and up and down, before slowly the movements steady and you finally regain control and feel of your body. And you know what you have to do.

‘Always aim for the center of the chest. Hitting something is better than nothing,’  You recall Yoongi’s words, reciting them like a prayer. ‘Once you have an aim, lock it. Watch your breathing...then,’

Breathing in through your nose, you click off the safety at the side of the gun, then holding the breath you took in its place before slowly letting it out, watching the minuscule movements that came with the action. Then at the trough of your breath, you squeeze the heavy trigger, bringing it all the way to its end.

BANG

Your solid stance efficiently absorbs the shock of the gunfire. Though the powerful blast of the gun ricochets throughout your body, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you feel your heart’s rapid thudding in your chest cavity.

Your eyelids flutter as you gather your bearings, readying yourself for another shot if there was the need. But as you watch red bloom across the white suit jacket the man wore, your shoulder slack, arms falling to once again point the mouth end of the gun to the ground.

Breaking into a fit of coughs, Jimin gasps for the oxygen his lungs had been deprived of. Taking in as much air as he could and too occupied with accommodating his body for the air it had been denied he had failed to notice just who exactly his savior was.

“Holy Fuck!” He chokes out as he uses the wall he was being held for support. “Ha, ha, Taehyung一 Have (Y/n) sent home,” Taking in another deep breath he continues. “Tell Hoseok to take her home. It’s too dangerous for her here,” He speaks, head down, steadying his breathing, he was still unaware of just who he was talking to.

“Jimin,” Your voice came much softer than you intended to, though it was enough to get the male’s attention. The silver-blond’s had snapped up to meet your quivering form.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaims, immediately walking over the corpse lying on the floor, swiftly pulling you into the room before poking his head out of the door, looking both ways. After determining the area was safe he turned on his heel to face you, his vice grip locked onto your wrist. “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!” Gently pushing you closer to the back he hisses.

“I told you to stay back didn’t I! What are you doing here? Where is Hoseok?” He releases a barrage of questions, but you stand there wordlessly, eyes tracing his visage. You had almost lost him, you had almost lost Jimin. If you hadn’t come up here, no one would have found him, you would have lost Jimin…  

The tears that were pooling your eyes earlier came crashing, cascading down your cheeks as a river of tears soon following the first few droplets, soft hiccups left your lips as you collapsed into Jimin’s arms, not caring the exterior of his suit and shirt were curated with dried blood. And pushing away the thought that you had just killed someone.

“(Y/n),” The don whispers softly, wrapping his own arms around your frame.

The tears slow once you feel Jimin’s comforting warmth surrounding you. Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you take in the scent of Jimin’s cologne as you felt the calm thudding of his heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest. It takes much longer than you had expected it would take to convince yourself that Jimin was indeed alive and breathing, that he was alright, and that he was with you.

“Yo, boss一oh,” You entirely ignore Taehyung’s voice as a ginger sigh leaves your lips, tightening your hold around the male, nuzzling further into Jimin’s familiar warmth. Though you feel Jimin’s head turns towards the owner of the nonchalant voice.

“What’s she doing here?” The chestnut-haired male asks the mafia boss, only to receive silence as an answer. “(Y/n), what are you doing here?” Taehyung questions you directly, and this time his voice was a deal gentler than what it had been before. Though again his question was only met with silence.

“Is the floor cleared?” Jimin looks at the male standing by the door.

“Uh一 yeah, we secured the building, and uh一 Ji-Eun Duri was freed. And well, everyone gathered back in the room we found Ji-Eun, you were the only one not there… so I went out to look for you,” The younger awkwardly explained. “I’ll just head back, you guys come whenever you’re ready,” Taehyung quickly adds before scampering away.

“(Y/n),” Sighing softly, Jimin speaks. “We need to go,”

“Okay,” You mumble as you reluctantly let go of the male. Jimin tenderly takes your hand into his as he leads you back into the hallway and to - what you assumed was the bigger room.

“(Y/n)! There you are! Oh my god! Never ever pull something like that again! Do you hear me?!” Hoseok’s voice booms in the room as he comes in barreling towards you, though his intentions to chastise you fizzle out as he takes in your dazed form, clinging to Jimin’s arm.

“I’m sorry Hoseok, I promise I won’t do that again,” Your eyes flutter open and close, a small smile curling on your lips as you are brought back from your disoriented state.

“You better not,” Hoseok adds, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“I won’t,” Chuckling, you return. Your quiet laugh smoothly eased the tension that had built on Jimin’s shoulders, his expression reflecting the release of tension as his scowl morphs into a fond smile.  

“So you actually found everything I left, huh?” Duri’s crows from her position on the single chair that sat at the center of the room.

“I guess I did,” You hum.

“Well, good job then,” She gives somewhat half-hearted praise.

“Hah, thanks,” You huff out a playful scoff.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon calls and you hum at the call of your name. “About the thing, you asked me to do before we left,”

With the progression of Namjoon’s words, your mind instantly sobers, now wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings and situation. ‘You can contemplate life choices after we get home. For now, focus,’

“Right,” You reply. “What happened?”

“It was exactly as you said,” The syrup-brown haired male speaks grimly. “There was an attack at the safe house Jiyoung and his family were being kept in. As well as an attack at the hospital Gu Joon’s sister was being treated in,”

“I see,” You mumble, bringing your index finger to rub the skin under your lower lip.

“Wait. Wait, What?” Taehyung arms flail in the air, his eyes wide as he questions you.

“Wait, we did make it in time, didn’t we?” Ignoring the chestnut-haired male, you continue the conversation.

“Thanks to your warning we did,” Namjoon says. “Jiyoung and his family were moved as soon as we left for this location. So was Gu Joon’s sister,”

“That's good,” You breathe a sigh of relief, it would have become quite problematic if anything were to happen to those people.

“Oh? So the little fox able to see past Yeong’s trick?” Duri's eyes narrow as a smile curves onto her lips, amusement dripping from her onyx orbs. ‘So she knew?’ You thought, examining her overly entertained expression.

“I certainly hope so,” Grumbling, you tug Jimin closer to you, more so than you already were. ‘The tansies!’ The words jumped in your mind as you talked to the female, almost as if triggered by the presence of the older woman.

“Tell me, Ji-Eun, do you like flowers? Or have any interest in them?” You ask, tentatively waiting for the charcoal-haired woman to answer.

“Flowers?” She parrots, her eyes narrowing quizzically.  

“Yes, flowers,” You affirm. “I didn’t really take you for someone who would be all too interested in flowers, but the flowers on your desk were really pretty and very well taken care of,”

“What flowers?” Duri questions, your eyes narrowing at the woman as a sly grin twisting onto her lips.  

“You know, the pretty yellow flowers that were on your desk,” You describe tansies without mentioning the flower by name.

“I don’t have any flowers on my desk,” She answers, head tilting back as she crosses her legs. With the sly smirk the woman wore one would assume she was lying, but this Ji-Eun you were talking about. This woman could never be as simple as that.

‘So it was the Yeongs after all,’ You watched as his expression grew ever more amused as the time passed. You may have not known her for longer than a single night, but anyone could tell, she was not a woman so easily interested. She was a cautious woman, you knew that much. It was not possible she would just let herself be kidnapped, for someone who's been in the business for as long as she has, she was taken without much of a fight. From all the experience she had, one would think she had precautions taken for such events.  

Though there may have been a few explanations, at the moment the most probable one was that she let herself be caught. She did this on purpose, but then, she also let herself be found. Why? Why would she let herself be caught then leave a way for people to find her? Though it was more of she was allowed to be found and yet. She had this whole elaborate plan for people to find her. ‘An elaborate plan?’ Your eyes widen as you register your own thoughts.

‘Of course!’ You had assumed that her whole iCloud rescue plan had been created in advance, a just-in-case precaution - seeing as she didn’t carry any trackers - so the iCloud tracking method was near perfect for this situation.

But that was precisely it, it was perfect for this situation. And that is why the method is so flawed - as a matter of fact - the iCloud tracking may have been the most flawed tracking method of all. For one, if the mobile phone had been switched off the computer wouldn’t have been able to track it. And what if her battery had run out? What if they had taken her farther and possibly out of the tracking radius? What if they had destroyed her phone? Or taken it? Like any serious kidnappers would. There were too many uncontrollable variables and not enough information. Simply put there were too many conditions to be met for the plan to work successfully.

And thus the conclusion, she knew she was getting kidnapped and that her kidnapping was nothing more than a distraction for something else. It was a distraction for the Yeongs to be able to regain control over their former operatives or possibly even revenge against them for betraying the Yeongs.

‘But was that really it?’ Revenge against the former members? Did the Yeongs even have the resources for something so petty? But then, why would someone smart enough to make a two prompt plan - infiltrating Bangtan’s ranks then using a ceasefire signing and attack to send Jiyoung into the fray - do something so brash and unnecessary as taking revenge when they had already suffered heavy losses.

“Unless,” too absorbed in your own thoughts, your mouth moves before your brain does.

“What?” Hoseok questions, unsure of what you were saying.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” A sheepish grin curls onto your lips as you reassure the men around you. The redhead eyes you doubtfully, but drops the subject nonetheless. Sighing in relief, your drifts from the male to land on the awfully entertained expression dancing on Duri’s face, her onyx orbs taunting you as she watched you reach the somewhat guided conclusion.

The many puzzle pieces were coming together, the jigsaws were fitting into their places. Only for you to realize the puzzle you had just solved was nothing more than a piece in a larger whole.

“Right, so how about we postpone that meeting for another time and call it a day for today,” Soomin quips, a hand on her hip - she tries her best to maintain a blank expression, however, an exhausted scowl breaks through her usually well-crafted mask.

“We can hold the meeting five days from Wednesday,” Duri says, massaging her wrists as she stood from the chair she was most likely bound to. “I’ll send your right hand the exact date.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Jimin looks to the three core members present, a silent command lying in his gaze. Quickly recognizing the order the men swiftly move into action. Namjoon turns away, fishing out his cell-phone and calling god knows who; while Taehyung moves to talk to - who you were guessing - the many Bangtan operatives that were standing to the side. Hoseok on the other hand, entirely excuses himself from the group, jogging down the hallway you had come from - probably to get the car ready, though you weren’t too sure just what exactly he had planned to do as you had the keys to the car.

“Five days from Wednesday then,” Jimin bids the two women goodbye as he places a hand on your back, gently nudging you towards the same way you had entered form.

You weren’t sure just how long the whole ordeal had actually taken, but the sharp orange light that covered the grounds told you it was much longer than what you had may have felt.

The rest of the daylight passed in a blur as there was much to do. Many of Bangtan’s members were injured, few fatally so. Those who were gravely wounded were rushed to the gang’s official doctor, but most of the operatives only had minor injuries: cuts, scratches, bruises, easily treatable wounds. And though it wasn’t part of your original job description, your inner doctor wouldn’t let those injured go without cleaning and dressing their wounds.

That was where the rest of your day had gone. Cleaning and dressing wounds of the twenty or so operatives that had participated in the day’s rescue mission. However, with only you on the job, getting to everyone - quickly - would have been nearly impossible. Fortunately, Jin had joined you in your endeavors, putting the skills you had taught him to use. And going by the speed you were getting through people, it was almost as if two long term professionals were on the case. A pleasant surprise really, you had assumed Jin would fumble with the bandages of the first few patients - a sound assumption, seeing as Jin didn’t have official training before working with you - but you were proven very wrong as the older male swiftly and deftly handled the bandages, efficiently treating one patient after another. And thanks to that great efficiency, you were done with everyone long before the moon had reached its peak. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if the day’s patients were used as exercise tools to improve the male’s skills.  

A soft chuckle left your lips as you stepped into the luxurious waterfall shower, where the shower head was attached to the ceiling. The controls of which were actually quite easy to operate; there was a knob for hot water and a knob for cold, the only problem was - they were both identical to each other… and the shower head was right over the controls as well. So you did the only thing any sane person would do, you turned both knobs to where you thought would be the right temperature, then ran like hell to the other corner of the shower space.

You sighed as the hot water soothed your tense muscles. Looking up, you let the water splash you face, and though the temperature of the water may have been a tad too hot for your face, that was the only thing you could do to distract yourself from the feeling in your chest, or rather the lack of feeling. The warm liquid cascaded down your body as you motionlessly stood under the falling water.

‘Who am I kidding?’ Brining a palm up to cover your eyes, before lowering it, you gaze falling onto the limb. This was the hand you used to pull the trigger, this was the hand you used to end a life. But it doesn’t shake, it doesn’t quiver, it doesn’t tremble now and didn’t tremble then. You remembered it, you remembered everything - vividly - like a film in HD.

How you held up the gun, how you aimed, how your body moved, everything. Though you also recall not feeling nothing.

No, that wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all. You did feel it, you felt every bit of it. From raising the gun to pulling the trigger, you felt it all. Your body wasn’t moving on its own, it was you, you were the one in control, everything that happened was what you did. Then why did you think your body was moving of its own accord?

A question you were doing everything possible to avoid, a question you didn’t want to think about, a question you already knew the answer to. And you knew, part of the reason you insisted on treating the wounds of those injured was so you had something else to focus on, something to distract you, something you could use as an excuse to not think.

‘Maybe I am heartless,’ You thought as you used a fluffy white towel to dry your body, quickly slipping on a pair of penguin shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you shuffle out your door towards your last patient of the day.  

Softly knocking on the double doors, you wait for Jimin to allow you in. Though minutes passed not a sound came from the room. ‘Is Jimin not in?’

“I’m coming in,” You announce as you hesitantly twist the golden door handle, poking your head through the crack you had opened. And the sight that welcomed you, had to be one of your favorite scenes you had ever seen.

There he was - a ferocious mafia boss - sitting on his bed - running his fingers through the fur of Shelty’s fluffy head on his lap as he read to your seventy-pound puppy dog.

“Well hello, you two,” You playfully greet the pair as you take your usual route to the first-aid box.

“Hey,” Jimin returns, closing the book in his hand, he shifts farther into the bed, making room for you when you return.

“You didn’t come by earlier,” You mention, as Jimin - in fact - hadn’t shown up to the medical room for an injury check. And coincidentally enough happens to be the only one of the four that you had yet to examine. Granted, you did somewhat corner the other three into an examination.

“Were you injured?” You ask, easing your way back to the bed - tentatively sitting beside the male.

“No,” The silver-blond answers shortly.

“Don’t lie to me,” You huff

“I’m not,” Removing his shirt over his head, the boss pouts.

“Uh-huh,” Nodding in mock agreement, you eye the small cuts and scratches littering his forearm.

A peaceful silence falls as you wordlessly apply antibiotic ointment to the healing wound. And even though you had repeated this routine nearly every night since your arrival, skipping removing the bandages still leaves an odd discomfort. It felt as if you had missed a step when in reality it was just the night bandaging happened after Jimin’s before bed shower and the old bandages were removed before he would shower.

Gently wrapping the fresh, clean gauze around the boss’ shoulder your mind drifts as your hands move with practiced ease. The events of the morning felt almost as if it were part of the distant past, not something that occurred just hours ago. The kidnapping, Duri’s clues, her clues actually leading you to her, the tansies, the attack on the two former Yeong operatives, you little epiphany, you killing someone. So much happened in the span of fewer than twelve hours. Your movements slowed as your thoughts drowned your consciousness. A familiar melancholy settling in your chest once again.

“(Y/n),” Jimin’s voice is soft as he calls for your attention.

“Huh? what?” You snap from your thoughts with a heavy sigh as you look to the silver-blonde in question. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing,” He pauses. “It’s just, you were spacing out,”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You apologize, moving on to the smaller cuts and scratches. “It’s gonna sting, okay?” Softly, you warn the male, bringing an alcohol pad to his forearm. For minor injuries, you used band-aids to cover them up.  

You fall into another silence as you individually place each band-aid on each scratch. While reflecting on the events of the day, you fail to notice the stiffness of this silence. It was unlike when you enjoyed the silence and simply basked in each other's presence. This was a familiar silence, a silence that had fallen once before. And Jimin was quick to recognize.

“(Y/n),” He mumbles, gently taking your hand into his then pulling you into him. “I never really thanked you for saving me, did I?” He whispers, rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back.

“Thank you, (Y/n),” The silver-blond murmurs in your ear, placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Jimin,” You mutter into his bare chest, turning your body to comfortably rest against the male. “It’s happening again.”

“(Y/n), you did what you had to do,” The hold around your body tightens as he speaks.

“I felt nothing, I feel nothing. Even as I pulled that trigger there was nothing. All I knew was I had to do it, but there was no reluctance, no hesitance, I wasn’t scared,” You barely make out as your throat constricts, eyes prickling with tears that threaten to fall at any given moment. A hollowing feeling burning in your ribcage.

“But that’s exactly what scares me,” You lift yourself from his chest just enough to meet Jimin’s honey-brown orbs. “It scares me I could kill someone so easily, then move on even easier,” Your tear ducts run loose as droplets of salty liquid freefall down your cheeks.  

“Once I even thought my body was moving on its own,” You scoff at your own miserable excuses. “But it wasn’t, it was me. I was moving my body - I raised the gun - I pulled the trigger, I killed the man.” Your voice comes out much stabler than you had expected.

“You know, I think the only reason I thought my body was moving on its own was that I was trying to justify my feelings. I was trying to justify not feeling anything as I killed a man.” Your voice elevated as you spoke, getting louder and louder as the sentence went on.

“Who does that?!” You exclaim, hand moving wildly, exaggerating your words. Jimin opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off - continuing on your tangent.

“And I know I said that I would take things as they came, but I killed someone. I ended a life with my own two hands. I should feel something shouldn’t I?! Remorse? Pain? Guilt? Something? Anything? But I don’t. And that’s terrifying, but maybe even that maybe I’m just tricking myself into thinking I’m scared, maybe I’m not even scared!” Your voice rises as your words bumble together into barely coherent blubbers.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you’re okay,” He shushes you, pulling you back into his embrace, tenderly running his fingers through your locks. The feeling of his digits combing through your hair instantly soothing you.

“It’s alright, there is nothing to justify,” He speaks slowly, calmly. “You did what you had to do to protect your own,”  

“That’s not it! I killed someone just hours ago and I just moved on like it was nothing!” You try to convey your thoughts, but your thoughts were getting louder and muddling as time went on.

“(Y/n),” Jimin murmurs.

“Just what kind of monster am I,” You rest your forehead against Jimin’s bare chest, all your bravado draining from your body as tears continue to run down your flushed cheeks.  

“(Y/n),” All he could do was try his best to comfort you and hope you snap out of your current mindset. Jimin wasn’t all too sure how to react when you reprimanded yourself for something those in the mafia community were trained and schooled to do. The first kill is never light, most aren’t even able to pull the trigger, while some retch their guts out once they do. He had been carefully observing your behavior and temperament from the moment he realized you had just had your first kill. He was prepared for you to hurl your guts out the moment you saw the dead body, or even later, thinking it may have been a delayed reaction. And yet there was nothing, especially after you had regrouped with everyone else. He could see you were distracted, but quickly regained composure then almost instantly returned to your work. As you were standing, he could practically see the wheels in your head-turning. And if there were ever a ranking or a test for newcomers, you would have passed with flying colors. Yet you couldn’t see how useful and quite honestly necessary abilities you had.  

Eventually, as it was made clear you would be spending the night in Jimin’s room - he fully pulled onto his lap. Continuing to rub circles on your back as you cried.

“I don’t know what to do,” After what felt like hours of bawling your eyes out, a quiet whimper left your lips as the exhaustion of the day and the crying hit you like a freight train.

“Just keep going as you are and you’ll be fine,” Jimin whispers next to your ear, his warm breath against your skin sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Whas that supposed to mean?” A muted whine resounds in your chest at the feeling, you bury your head into Jimin’s neck, nuzzling into his skin as you basked in his warmth. The strong pull of sleep swamped you as the pleasant heat of Jimin’s body and his comforting touch ease you into sleep’s embrace. And at that moment, it was just a tad too tempting to resist.

“Goodnight (Y/n),”

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

A quick taglist! 

I saw your message and I felt like I should lol hope you don’t mind. Thank you for reading! Lots of love! 💜

@crookedstarlitnight​

Comment or send in an ask if you would like to be tagged too!

[pixelated-pogues]

summer 18 with rafe!!

ooof yes!!! i love this one

Prompt: “I didn’t get soaking wet walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.” Pairing: Rafe x reader Warnings: Pure fluff, like two cuss words

————————

Rafe stares at his phone with a tight frown etched onto his face due to the text he just received from you. You’re supposed to come over to his place tonight for the weekly movie movie night you guys have been having since you were in middle school, but you cancelled on him last minute. 

“Hello,” you sigh on the other end of the line, Rafe’s ears perking at the sound of your voice.

“What do you mean, you’re not coming? Y/n, it’s our night, I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he complains, throwing his head back exasperatedly. It’s more of a joke than anything, but he wants to know the truth behind why you decided to bail without warning. 

“I’m just, not feeling up to it tonight Rafe,” you mumble, wiping the lighthearted smile off of his face at the distant sound of sniffling coming from your end of the line. 

“Y/n,” he breathes, his lips subconsciously curving into a concerned pout. “Have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

“No, Rafe. I’m fine, I’m just exhausted and need a night in, okay?” you voice comes out fast and desperate, which is always the first sign to tell if you’re lying. 

“Y/n,” he begins, having every intention to convince you to talk to him but you immediately cut him off.

“I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” The call ends before he can say anything else and he’s left in the silence of his room, silently scheming as to how he can improve your night so that you’re not spending it completely alone while you’re sad. 

He straightens up at the first idea that comes to mind, a content smile crossing his features as he rushes down the stairs and out the door, giving Wheezie a slight nod when he passes her in the hallway with a six pack of beer clutched tightly in his hand.

Your house is roughly 15 minutes from his on foot and your favorite pizza parlor is right in the middle, so he makes time to call an order so that he could pick it up on his way over. Around the time that he arrived at the pizza parlor, a loud crack of thunder sounded directly above him bringing a dense wave of raindrops down with it.

“Shit,” he mumbles, knowing full well he’s still got a ten minute trek before he makes it to your house. He shrugs, pulling his hood over his head before making a beeline towards your house.

“Rafe, what are you doing here? I told you that I’m fine and want to stay in,” you question, attempting to conceal the evidence that would show that you’ve been crying all night, when your front door swings open.

“Listen, I didn’t get soaking wet walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in,” he demands, briefly lifting the six pack in his hands so that you knew he wasn’t lying. You stare at Rafe in bewilderment, taking notice of the fact that he truly is sopping wet with a box of pizza clutched tightly in his hands. You mentally weigh your options for a moment, allowing your shoulders to slump forward as you huff and step aside to invite him in. 

“Stay here, I’m going to get you different clothes,” you order, upon stepping into the confines of your bedroom. He obliges, moving to set down the pizza and beers before you return from your closet with one of his favorite pairs of sweatpants and a t-shirt hugged against your chest firmly. He mumbles a quiet ‘thank you’ before excusing himself to the restroom so that he can change clothes. Once he’s finished, he stalks back to your bedroom, finding you curled into the disheveled variety of blankets on your bed when he walks through the door. 

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen you like this since Andrew Jones broke up with you in eighth grade,” he asks, carefully plopping onto your bed next to your head so that he could play with your hair. He takes notice of the way you visibly flinch at his words, a grimace taking over the sullen expression on your face. “It’s got to be serious if you’re willing to cancel movie night to sulk.”

He closes his mouth when you lift your head to shoot him a glare, his words bringing a fresh wave of self pity and tears along with them.

“It’s stupid,” you sigh, waving him off but allowing his fingers to comb through your hair. “Like, I kind of expected it to happen, but that doesn’t really make it any better.”

“What’s stupid?” Rafe’s eyebrows furrow at the vagueness of your answer, his brain sifting through the potential scenarios as to what could’ve made you so upset.

“Bradley,” you huff, sitting up from your position on your bed so that you can face him. “He acted like he was all about me, and made it seem like he was ready to make things official, but I saw him at the country club Morgan.”

“Morgan? Like, from you friend group Morgan?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought. “I may not have thought so much of it if his tongue wasn’t down her throat.”

“Y/n, that guy is an ass anyway. You don’t need him,” Rafe murmurs, situating himself against the wall before pulling you against his chest. “There are plenty of guys that would be more than willing to treat you right.”

“Really,” you scoff with a bitter laugh, subconsciously playing with Rafe’s hand. “Name one, because I can’t exactly think of anyone off of the top of my head.”

“Me,” he admits, his voice nearly a whisper and slightly contorted due to the fact that his lips are pressed against your hair. Your eyes bulge at his words, head swiveling around to face him so that you could decipher whether or not you heard him right.

“What?” Your voice comes out in disbelief, your previous movements completely halted as you search his face for some sort of tell that what you heard was true.

“Me,” he repeats bashfully, hesitantly meeting your gaze. “I know that I’m just your best friend, but I hate watching guys play with your emotions when I know fully well that I would treat you right.”

“Rafe, I-,” you pause, processing the information, gently smacking his chest. “You know how much heartache you would’ve saved me from had you admitted that years ago?”

“I’m sorry, I-,” he cuts himself off, your words slowly registering in his head. He looks at you in disbelief, the worry on his face only growing due to the thought that you may be genuinely upset with him. “What?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that for years,” you hum, giggling at his dumbfounded expression. “You’ve always been more than just my best friend.”

A surprised smile replaces the worried frown he was sporting, a gleeful blush spreading over his cheeks as he moves to break the space between the two of you, unable to refrain from kissing you any longer.

——————————

A/n: This. This is. Soft, best friend Rafe is everything to me 🥺

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

send me prompts

[miyuki-scourgeofthefirenation]

Bop to the Top

Oh boy what have I done? I wrote fanfic, that’s what I done. Basically, I was just chilling, minding my business, when I came across this YouTube video:

I then had an idea for a fanfic that would not let me go until I wrote it. So I wrote it. Please be nice, this is my first time writing fanfic ever. It also became longer than I anticipated so here it is in all its unedited glory. Enjoy! Story begins under the cut, because yikes, why is this over 2000 words?!?

(Set roughly five years after the end of the war. Zuko brought in a special team to help with Azula and her situation, because Zuko is a sweet boy who still loves his sister and wants her to be okay. The comics? I don’t know her.)

Sokka was spending a perfectly pleasant afternoon strolling around the gardens at the palace when he was unexpectedly tackled by someone sneaking up on him. Actually, make that two someones sneaking up on him.

“Ooof,” he grunts as his body makes contact with the ground. Any hope he might have had for regaining his breath is dashed when the two someones who tackled him promptly fall right on top of him as well.

“Sokka!” a giddy voice shouts, followed by peals of laughter. Sokka opens his eyes to find himself face to face with a chirping lemur. The pressure on his back disappears as his two attackers stand up.

“Sorry, sorry!” another voice rings out, reaching down to help Sokka to his feet. “We were just so excited to surprise you!” Sokka turns around to see his sister Katara, and Aang standing there.

“Guess we got a little carried away!” Aang adds with a sheepish tone in his voice that somehow doesn’t match up with the light in his eyes or wide grin on his face. Sokka doesn’t say anything, just reaches out to scoop Katara and Aang into a hug as Momo scurries up to perch on his shoulder.

“I had no idea you were coming for a visit,” Sokka says, releasing the others from the hug after a few moments.

“It was a last minute decision,” Katara explains. “We were charting our course to the next destination on our itinerary, and realized that it wasn’t that far out of our way to stop by here en route. Thought it would be nice to come see you and Zuko for a day or two.”

“And I thought ‘What would be more fun than making this visit?’ Making this a ‘Surprise visit!’” Aang crowed happily. “Hope that’s okay,” he said then, a bit more tentatively, as if it was just occurring to him that maybe advance warning of their arrival would have been a good thing.

“Of course it is!” Sokka beams, “You know I’m always excited to get to see you two!” A slightly angry chirp comes from the direction of his shoulder. “And you too Momo. I couldn’t forget about my favorite flying lemur.”

It is at this moment that two palace guards come running up to the group out of breath. “Master Sokka,” one pants, “Your sister and the Avatar have arrived unexpectedly and wish to see you immediately.” 

Sokka exchanges a brief look with Aang and Katara at this obvious statement, but decides not to comment on it out loud.

“We apologize for not leading them here for a proper greeting,” the other guard says, looking somewhat miffed as well as quite sweaty. “But…” He trails off looking at the two visitors, neatly conveying the hesitance of the guards to attempt to stop the waterbending master and Avatar from going anywhere they might want.

“That’s quite alright,” Sokka states, addressing the red-faced guards. “If you could please see to it that appropriate arrangements are made for my sister and Aang to stay here for the next few days. Thank you.” With that the two guards make their bows to the group and depart.

Katara and Aang loop their arms through Sokka’s as they begin to walk towards the far end of the garden. “So,” Katara begins, “how have you been? How’s that Fire Lord fiancé of yours?”

Sokka grins at this. “I’m good, he’s good. Been keeping busy with Ambassador duties, and Fire Lord duties for him. There have been a couple of small uprising plans discovered recently, but nothing like the turmoil of the early days…” he said trailing off. He still didn’t like to remember those difficult months after Zuko assumed the throne, which featured a steady influx of plots to remove him from power and resume the war. Based on the looks on Katara and Aang’s faces, they didn’t like this reminder either. The three quickly shook themselves out of their momentary gloom, focusing back on the present. “I know he’ll want to see you as well, he’ll be so thrilled you’re here!”

“Where is he?” Aang questions.

“He’s spending some time with Azula,” Sokka explains. “She’s been doing really well recently,” he adds after seeing the dubious expressions on their faces. “Ever since we got those new healers in and the new chambers in the hospital wing set up specially for her she’s been showing a lot of improvement. Way fewer rants about taking back her rightful place as Fire Lord!” Katara and Aang still don’t look convinced, and he supposes he can’t blame them for that. If he didn’t live here and see the daily workings of the situation he probably wouldn’t believe it either. “It’s just about time for Zuko to be finishing up with his visit to her,” Sokka says somewhat hastily, eager to move past this particular subject. “I’ll go over and get him, let him know you’re here. Then we can all have dinner together, properly catch up.”

“Great!” Aang exclaims. “Me and Katara should go see about getting Appa settled in, he can be very picky about how he wants things you know!” Katara gave a slight roll of her eyes as Aang bounded off with Momo flying behind him. 

“We’ll see you at dinner!” she calls with a wave as she follows her boyfriend. Sokka smiles at their retreating backs. He’s so happy that they’re here, and he knows Zuko will be as well. With that thought in mind he heads off for the hospital wing of the palace.

As he rounds the corner leading to Azula’s chambers he hears something extremely unexpected. Typical noises that can be found in the hallway are soft talking, loud screams about Azula finally breaking free and reclaiming her place, tears, or silence. This is none of those things. This seems to be… music? Sokka is confused, and quietly pushes open the door to the room. He learned the hard way that making his presence known immediately was not necessarily a smart idea. Who knew a hairbrush could be such a powerful projectile weapon? 

Sokka instantly freezes at the sight that meets his eyes. Zuko and Azula are in the center of the room and they seem to be doing some sort of… choreographed dance routine? There is an entirely unnecessary amount of jazz hands and shimmying that seems to be happening and Sokka is absolutely thrilled. He breaks out into an unbelieving and slightly wicked smile. This is good, this is just the sort of low level embarrassing incident he can use to tease Zuko for ages. The two dancing firebenders haven’t yet noticed Sokka’s presence, they’re too focused on the dance. The song continues to play in the background, something about bopping and glory. Sokka isn’t paying close attention to the words of the song, the sight in front of him is far more entertaining and deserves his full attention. The song comes to an end, and Zuko and Azula make their grand finale on a ladder (where did they get a ladder from? Sokka muses briefly). It is only then that Sokka makes his presence known, by beginning to clap. He knew that they would instantly stop dancing if they were aware of him earlier, and he was not about to sacrifice seeing this for anything. The two whirl around at the sound of his clapping, as well as the muffled laughter he’s been holding in this entire time and is starting to lose control of.

Zuko flushes red. “How long have you been standing there?” he asks, a slightly panicked look in his eyes. He knows his fiancé, and he knows full well the amount of teasing he can expect to get from this sort of situation. At this point he can only hope for the damage to be minimal, and that Sokka didn’t see too much of the routine. He knows he’s lost when he sees the evil gleam in Sokka’s eyes.

“Oh,” Sokka laughs, “I’m pretty sure I caught most of that, and let me say I am very happy I did. When can we expect to see performances of it in the theaters around town? Personally, I think all Fire Nation citizens should have a chance to witness that. It would probably be very good for morale.” He crosses his arms and grins at the siblings, who have since come down off of the ladder. Surprisingly Azula hasn’t said anything yet, and has kept her face aimed downwards towards the floor. Both Sokka and Zuko dart their gaze to her, somewhat nervously gauging her reaction.

She looks up abruptly, her gaze moving back and forth between the two. A small smile spread across her lips. “What do you think Zuzu? A couple more months of practice before our grand debut?” Zuko looks shocked for a minute before getting his expression back under control. She turns to Sokka. “You know,” she drawls to him, “I could be ready to perform for the masses tomorrow, but you know Zuzu, he’s not as fast a learner as I am. He needs more time to practice, and I refuse to perform if the routine is not perfected! But, alas, it is now time for dinner, and so perfection shall have to wait another day at least. We can pick up with practice again another day Zuzu,” she states imperiously, laying a hand on his arm as she walks into the small dining area off of the main room. When she gets to the doorway she turns her head slightly to look at him. “Thank you,” she murmurs softly, “I had fun.” Then she sweeps into the other room and out of their sight.

Wordlessly, Zuko and Sokka exit her chambers and begin walking back towards the main part of the palace. “Wow,” Zuko mutters.

“I know,” Sokka says, “She was actually… nice for once. Glad to see the new environment and healers are helping her so much.”

“Me too,” Zuko says quietly, lost in his own thoughts.

“And you,” Sokka blurts out. Zuko looks up at him questioningly. “You’re really helping her too. Clearly,” Sokka rambles. “She seems to be coming around to trusting you a lot more. I know that’s important to you.”

Zuko smiles a bit at that. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Sooooooo, about that dance….” Sokka grins at him

“Oh no. No, no, no,” Zuko whines. “I just had a major breakthrough with my sister, can’t I get a pass on the mocking for once?”

Sokka looks vaguely affronted. “Do you know me at all? I am very happy about the whole ‘Breakthrough with formerly evil sister thing,’ but if you think you’re gonna be able to get out of this on the strength of that alone…” he scoffs. “That dance routine is the best material that has fallen into my lap in years, there’s no way I’m about to pass it up!”

Zuko groans affectionately, he knew that was gonna be the answer, and despite his embarrassment he can’t find it in himself to be too upset. He goodnaturedly puts up with Sokka’s shrieking about it as they begin to make their way to dinner. He’s only half paying attention when Sokka says “Oh man, Katara and Aang are gonna love this! Dinner just got so much better!” That snaps Zuko out of his trance right away.

“What do you mean ‘Katara’ and ‘Aang’ and ‘Dinner’?” He demands.

“Oh,” Sokka says slyly, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, “Did I forget to mention? Katara and Aang have dropped in for a surprise visit. We’re headed to dinner with them right now. And trust me, this story, is gonna be the highlight of the evening!” With that Sokka gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, flashes a wicked grin and runs away down the hall and into the dining room. Zuko huffs indignantly, realizing Sokka had run away before he had a chance to respond. Grumbling, but still smiling slightly, he follows his fiancé into the dining room, looking forward to seeing his friends.

[slayergroupie0128]

So here's Part One of my Kpop Mafia Fic Rec. REPOST. Lol. This was the only way I could figure out to link from my phone, so I apologize for the short length!! I'll be adding a tag so you can see all of them.

[byunsboyz]

My Answer (Is You)

Exo Fanfiction

Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Wordcount: 4k

Genre: fluff (teeny tiny amount of implied smut)

Wedding AU

____________________________________________________________

“How many puns should I write into these vows?” You overhear Baekhyun asking himself.

You’ve just walked through the door. It’s the late evening and you’ve just arrived home from work after a short stop at the grocery store. 

Walking in on your fiance still trying to write his vows for your wedding that’s in less than a month 

He’s scratching the top of his head as he hunches over the laptop screen in front of him. Sitting at the small dining table in the corner of your kitchen, his back facing away from you. 

You close the door behind you gently and walk up behind him.

“So you think proclaiming your love for me is a joke, huh?” you whisper menacingly in his ear, trying to hold back your urge to laugh.

Baekhyun jumps out of his seat in surprise. 

“WHY ARE YOU CREEPING UP ON ME” he gasps, dramatically holding his chest and slamming his laptop shut in an attempt to hide the blank word document that you already saw over his shoulder moments ago.

You ignore his dramatics and set the groceries weighing down your arms on the counter. 

“You know something Baek-” you huff as you start to unpack the food into the fridge and cupboards.

You’re about to say something petty, feeling frustrated and tired from a particularly stressful day at work. 

The brief thought that Baekhyun isn’t taking your wedding seriously appears in your mind before you cut it off with a shake of your head.

At the same time, you feel a pair of strong hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closely as the warmth of Baekhyun’s lips presses softly behind your ear.

You instantly relax. Leaning against him as you let out all feelings of tension in a single breath.

“Hey” he whispers, his lips still resting on the back of your neck. 

“Why don’t you go take a nice relaxing shower? I’ll finish putting this stuff away and get dinner started.”

He’s rocking you gently side to side. 

“We can put them away together” you hum, turning in his arms and reaching upwards to cup his face.

You pull him into a soft kiss, feeling the corners of his lips pull back into a smile against your mouth. 

His hand trails up your back to the nape of your neck, his other still wrapped around your waist as he pushes your back into the counter. Pressing himself into you as he deepens the kiss. 

You pull back from his devil lips before he has a chance to put you under his spell. “The groceries babe.”

You giggle as he pouts back at you. 

Baekhyun’s is definitely the more clingy one in your relationship. 

You smack him on the butt playfully as you release yourself from his embrace. “Let’s get cracking, I’m starving!”. 

You work in unison. Baekhyun unpacking the frozen and chilled stuff away while you organise the cupboard items. 

“Leave some of that, I’ll do the top shelf” he singsongs smugly. 

“Says the man who is literally two inches taller”. You mutter under your breath.

“What did you say?!”

You ignore him, stretching up on your tiptoes to place some cans of soup up onto the top shelf. 

“Oh yeah, thank god I’ve got you and your giant ass,” you add sarcastically.

You hear him huff as he closes the fridge and steps beside you, snatching the bag of pasta out of your hands in protest. 

As he opens back up the cupboard, the soup you'd just placed starts to wobble threateningly.

Your eyes widen as the can topples off the shelf. Everything happening in slow motion as Baekhyun’s mouth falls open in shock.

“OOOF!”

The can bounces off the top of his head.

You clasp your hands over your mouth. Half in shock, half to stifle the laughter building up in the back of your throat.

He turns his head to look at you and when you make eye contact you lose it,  bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Are you okay?!” You ask gasping for air, reaching up to check his head.

He smacks your hand away “DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE!” he accuses, rubbing the top of his head while looking mildly distressed.

You have tears coming out of your eyes at this point and all you can manage is a shake of your head as you try and compose yourself. 

Baekhyun is staring at you with eyes full of betrayal, his arms crossed defensively over his chest and a giant pout present on his lips.

You catch your breath and wipe a tear from your cheek. 

“Babe, you really think I would set the can of soup up there just for it to fall on you?” 

His face softens a fraction but then you snort. “It’s a waste of soup!”

“Well it’s not like you don’t already have a history of throwing things at me!” he sniffs, holding his head and refusing to meet your eye in quiet protest. 

You start feeling a little guilty. He would have laughed at you but when he’s standing there all cute and whiney you can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. 

You reach out and take his free hand in yours.

“Well if I didn’t throw that book at your head, we wouldn’t be getting married” you offer sheepishly, trying to suck up a little as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He looks down at you feigning innocence, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Are you gonna kiss it better?” he asks, rubbing the wrong side of his head.

You raise your eyebrow in response as he tests your patience, but you decide to allow him this victory and tilt your chin up to offer him your lips.

He flashes you a goofy smile and kisses you softly.

“Well, it might have been partially my fault”.

“The soup or the book?”

“Both”

You met Baekhyun in college, after being assigned as project partners while taking the same sociology class. 

It was the first time you’d crossed paths but you were painfully aware of him. He was the loud type, always offering his opinion without the teacher asking it. Anything to draw a laugh out of the rest of the class.

You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, opting to not judge the book by its cover. He could have been a genius for all you knew. 

He proved you wrong, but not on the genius assumption. More so for expecting him to cooperate at all.

You had broken off into your assigned pairs and were meant to spend the rest of the class working on ideas for a presentation relating to mass media and its influence on the younger generation.

Baekhyun seemed to have other ideas and asked you a bunch of nonsense questions as you sat opposite him trying to refocus him to the task at hand.

You felt incredibly frustrated as you stared down at the empty page of bullet points in your notebook.

“I have a fantastic idea!” he called out, getting your hopes up.

Then he let rip the loudest fart you’d ever heard.

You could only look up in disbelief as he sat there laughing unashamedly.

“Wow, you could’ve waited for class to finish?” he tried to imply as he pinched his nose at you.

You felt mortified. When the rest of the class joined in with his laugher you saw red and launched your notebook straight at his head.

Then you were both promptly marched to the headmaster's office.

You had never gotten detention before and vowed to never speak to Byun Baekhyun ever again.

You sat in the small detention room for the rest of the day, feeling absolutely ashamed of your outburst. Wondered if you should apologise to the boy sitting behind you.

It was just the two of you in the room, the teacher had just left to get some coffee and warned you to remain in silence.

“I’m sorry” you had started. “I don’t know what came over me-”.

Your voice waved and eyes stung as tears threatened to fall.

“Oh no please don’t say that” came the voice behind you.

“I was acting like an idiot, I don’t even know what made me think that it was a good idea”.

You turned around at his words. Surprised that he had apologised.

“I thought it would, you know, break down the barriers” He shook his head “but it was childish. I just wanted to see you laughing with me for once”.

You had felt confused at his words. 

“W-what, why?” you stammered in total disbelief.

“I…Uh, I guess I always thought you were cute and you’re always so nice to everybody else and I just wanted you to like me?” 

You remember the way Baekhyun’s cheeks had flushed red, and that yours matched.

“You could have just tried being yourself” you hadn’t realised at the time, but Baekhyun later told you that what you said that day sparked a more genuine side of him. 

No longer feeling the need to act like the class clown.

Most of the time.

“How is your head?” you’d asked.

And as if a director had yelled ‘action!’ he held his head with both hands and sharply sucked in a breath.

“Ahhhhh, well I haven’t looked properly yet but I swear I felt a bump earlier” he winced.

You called his bluff and feigned concern as you stood up to and walked over.

“Oh my goodness, you poor thing” you cooed, as you tried to hold back all traces of sarcasm from your voice.

Baekhyun looked up at you with wide eyes as you placed your own hands on his head. 

“Wha-what are you doing?” he stuttered out, looking surprised.

“Does it hurt here?” you poked the spot on his forehead that you hit with your index finger. 

He shook his head.

“What about here?” you offered as you poked another random spot on his forehead, that time with more force.

“AH!” he cried out as he grabbed hold of your hand to make you stop. 

“You’re not even hurt you big dramatic baby” 

You shouted at him, while you’d felt acutely aware that you had been essentially holding hands.

“Well my feelings were hurt” he’d defended as you pulled your hands from his grip and slumped back into your chair with your arms crossed.

“This is all your fault Byun Baekhyun!” you sighed loudly. “But, I guess chucking my notebook at you wasn’t very nice of me…so I’m sorry”.

Just as you uttered those words, you heard someone clear their throat.

You turned your head to find the headmaster stood in the doorway. 

“I see you’ve worked this out between yourselves, so I guess I won’t ever be seeing you outside my office again?”.

You both nodded your heads frantically and he dismissed you.

You shot quickly out of the classroom, school had already ended so you walked towards the exit when you heard your name being called.

It could have only been Baekhyun, so you stopped and waited for him to catch up to you.

“So, are we friends now?” he had asked shamelessly as he fell into step with you. A wide shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he looked at you hopefully.

What can you say, he had you at the first puppy dog look.

“Sure, we’re project partners after all” you smiled at him before you turned to head in the direction of your street. But he reached out to stop you.

“What if I asked you to come and get some ice cream with me instead of going straight home” He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit that you would learn he only had when he was extremely nervous. “My treat?

You knew at that moment that you were going to be a sucker for the real Baekhyun. 

“I’d love to”. You smiled up at him as he gestured for you to lead the way.

“Yeah let’s go, it’ll be a da-“ he starts before stopping mid-sentence.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!”

The rest was history. You started dating, moved in together after you graduated and got engaged two years ago.

He had proposed in the most Baekhyun way possible. 

Baekhyun had gotten all your friends and family to hold up a letter, and hid each picture around your apartment as a scavenger hunt on your birthday. 

He was your first love and you’re future. 

“Since we unpacked the groceries together, maybe we should shower together...” Baekhyun purrs into your ear, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You hum thoughtfully as you leave him standing in the kitchen, heading towards the shower. 

He starts to follow you until you look back at him over your shoulder.

“You won’t be sharing anything with me until you’ve finished your vows Byun Baekhyun!”

You hear him groan in defeat as you shut the bathroom door.  

***

Three weeks later you’re sat at your wedding reception. The ceremony was beautiful and emotional, Baekhyun managing to avoid the puns in his vows.

“Let's be dumb together, make bad choices...eat the wrong things, take the wrong turns, and then let's tell great stories. The same ones over and over, forever and ever until no one can stand us but each other”

He sniffed, squeezing your hands tightly, all while staring at you like you were the only other person in existence. 

You couldn’t stop your tears of joy as you nodded furiously, smiling so hard that your face still aches even now. 

There was only one small incident.

“I can’t find them!” Chanyeol panicked, (meaning your wedding rings) as he frantically patted down his trousers.

You and Baekhyun stood awkwardly and the room was deafeningly quiet.

“Check your pockets.” Kyungsoo, one of Baekhyun’s other groomsmen had whispered

“I already did.” Chanyeol snapped back. 

Baekhyun started to whisper reassuringly that you didn’t even need rings. 

“Nothing will stop me from marrying you today” 

“Check your inner pockets.” Kyungsoo hissed, as you and Baekhyun became more and more anxious.

“They’re not – oh, son of a bitch!”

You think the entire room groaned in relief. 

His ears turned red in embarrassment as he sheepishly passed them along to you and Baekhyun.

Later in the evening, everyone sits at their tables enjoying dessert.

You decided to go with a traditional three-course sit-down meal. 

Currently regretting your decision to not change out of your wedding dress for the reception, but damn you felt sexy in your lace backless mermaid gown.

Baekhyun’s jaw practically fell to the floor when you’d walked down the aisle.

One of the servers approaches your table with a huge smile, “Could I get you anything else?”

In unison, you and Baekhyun reply “More of the ice cream cak-”.

You both burst into laughter.

“Wow, can I marry you again?” he gushes.

You press your lips to his cheek and whisper in his ear.

“I’d marry you every day if you didn’t mind us going bankrupt.” you tease.

Baekhyun snorts, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You forgot the server was standing there. 

“Apologies for the interruption, I just wanted to confirm that you both wanted more of the cake”.

You nod, blushing slightly. “Two more servings of cake for me and my husband please!”

Baekhyun gushes in excitement at your use of his new title. 

When the waiter steps away you continue where you left off. Baekhyun is already leaning towards you and offers you his free hand, you grin and high five him. 

“Excellent decision making Mrs Byun” he grins, moving in to steal another kiss. 

“You guys are giving me toothache” complains your brother Sehun. 

You look over to see him shaking his head with a grimace. 

“You brat, this is my wedding!”.

You tickle the side of his ribs playfully, forcing him to crack a smile.

“You’ve got yourself a keeper” You overhear Junmyeon, Baekhyun's co-worker slur. 

You look over just as he affectionately throws his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder, looking like he’s about to tear up, his cheeks tinged pink from the effects of the open bar. 

“Eh hem!”

Chanyeol stands up and taps at his glass trying to gain everyone’s attention.

Not seeming to realise how hard he’s tapping until the glass loudly shatters everywhere.

“OH SHIT!”

With everyone’s attention caught, Chanyeol sheepishly wipes the spilt champagne off his trousers. 

“Well that certainly BROKE the silence” he stammers nervously, trying to laugh it off.

Junmyeon laughs hysterically while Sehun pretends to gag.

Chanyeol kicks off the speeches for the evening, talking about how he first met Baekhyun in grade school, becoming best friends over their love of yu-gi-oh and ferrets and giving a short recap of all the pranks they’d pulled together.

You notice Baekhyun sinking in his chair as Chanyeol reveals how he had wanted to be a Ballerina when he was little.

You gasp for air, laughing at the image of your husband wearing a tutu.

Instant payback comes in the form of your maid of honour recalling the time you got super drunk during your first year of college and tried to fight the cardboard cut out of your favourite boy band member in the middle of a shopping centre.

She didn’t even spare you and leave out the part where you proceeded to sob when his head snapped off.

“The mall even made her pay for the standee and she brought him home!” 

You hide your face in your hands as Baekhyun vibrates with laughter next to you.

“He lived in our dorm until we graduated! But alas, he was no match for Byun Baekhyun!”

You shoot her a death glare as she finishes up her speech, your guests laughing happily around you.

After the speeches are finished, the DJ announces that it’s time for you and Baekhyun to have your first dance.

The lights around the edge of the room dim as the dance floor lights up. You and Baekhyun stand, walking hand in hand to take your places at the centre of the room. 

Everyone else forms a circle around the edges of the dance floor, phones and cameras out at the ready. 

Baekhyun places one arm around your waist and holds out the other. 

You, in turn, place your hand atop his and the other gently on his shoulder, just like you had been practising the last couple of months.

The lighting of the dancefloor shines around him, highlighting every beautiful angle on your husband’s face. You feel giddy over the knowledge that you get to kiss his beautiful lips for the rest of your life. 

The soft piano of Sam Kim’s ‘Would You Believe’ slowly fills the room as you start to dance, floating under Baekhyun's hold as he leads you around the room. 

It all feels so effortless, just like your love. 

You wrap your arms around Baekhyun, pressing your body tightly against him as he steals kisses from your lips. Your friends and family clapping and cheering. 

The DJ offers for the rest of the room to join you on the dance floor, but everyone blurs in comparison to the man holding you. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been slow dancing with Baekhyun, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder and his face buried in the crook of your shoulder and neck. 

“The moment I first saw you,

I was so attracted to you,

I didn’t weigh out my thoughts and just talked”

You shiver as Baekhyun sings softly in your ear. His voice, low and melodic.

“The answer is you…

My answer is you,

I showed you my everything,

You are my everything...

Because I was so sure”.

You inhale sharply as his hand slips lower to rest on the curve of your back, just above your ass as he continues to serenade you.

“Hey” you whisper, kissing just below his ear. “Wanna sneak away?” 

Baekhyun gazes down at you, a devilish glint in the amber hues of his eyes. 

“I thought you’d never ask” he grins, pulling you into a heated kiss.

“Get a room!” 

You think Jongdae shouts out from somewhere behind you, you both laugh and break your kiss to look over at your group of friends. 

It looks like they’re playing some type of drinking game over at one of the tables. Chanyeol is already passed out, slumped over the table. 

Baekhyun takes your hand and leads you out of the room before anyone else can catch you slipping away from the party.

It was getting late anyway and you have a flight to catch to the Maldives in the morning.

You were staying in the venue overnight, a beautiful manor house in the countryside. 

You knew a lot of the guests were also staying, so you could catch them at breakfast before your airport taxi arrives.

When you arrive at your room Baekhyun suddenly scoops you up in your arms making you squeal.

“What are you doing” you giggle. 

“I’m carrying you over the threshold!” 

“Uh what about the room key?” you snort. “Ah, shit...it’s in my pocket”.

You reach your arm down behind you, feeling for his pocket. “Wow is that a big key or are you just happy to see me” you gasp. 

You make it into the room, Baekhyun placing you back onto your feet and unzipping your dress all in one swift movement. 

“What the-” He cuts you off as he presses himself against you, mouth hungrily catching your lips as he walks you backwards and lays you gently on the bed.  

He steps back to loosen his tie and clicks a button on a tiny remote that you didn’t even notice him pick up.

R’n’B music begins to pulse from the speakers as he saunters back over to the bed. 

No sleep tonight We makin' love until the sun shines down on us No sleep tonight We makin' love until the sun (yeah)

“What are you doing?” you snort.

Baekhyun bites his lip and waggles his brow as he presses you softly into the mattress. Running his hands down the smooth silk of your lingerie. 

“I’m seducing you, Mrs Byun”. 

You exhale happily, shuddering under his touch. 

“I’m all yours”.

[bigskydreaming]

Sorry to bother you, but I just started on ADHD medication today, and I was just very curious about if you remember how it affected you at first vs how it affects you when you've been on it a while? Like could you see the effect right away, and did it remain the same? I asked my doctor about ADHD specifically bc of your posts, so thank you!

Ooof, I mean, in my personal experience weighed versus the experiences of a lot of friends, it varies TREMENDOUSLY. It has so much to do with your metabolism, your environmental stressors, as well as even just psychosomatic aspects, like......I don’t think THE placebo effect applies to ADHD meds, but I think a DEGREE of it does often apply for some people. Like I just mean for instance, personally speaking, the very first time I took ADHD meds after getting officially diagnosed, I did see an IMMEDIATE effect........whereas when I’ve tried different medications or adjusted dosages over the years since then, its taken me a lot of trial and error to come even close to getting that same initial effect. 

So I mention this specifically because like, I do think that in my case at least, a huge part of my initial response to the medication was my brain being so relieved to have an actual explanation for a lot of what it hadn’t been able to explain most of my life, as well as having an actual way to ADDRESS those things, that like......this all contributed to my brain working over time in producing a lot of supplementary chemicals in addition to the way the medication was helping it produce what it needed, and it like.....all resulted in a Big Bang of positive net results for me at that specific time, that like.....weren’t all due JUST to the medication, and thus couldn’t fully be replicated at later points JUST by medication.

And that’s important to keep a perspective of, I think, because one thing you really don’t want to do when your reactions/responses to your medication fluctuates over the years - and it will - is to assume that just because you’re not getting AS good as results from medication at one point as you are at other points, that this doesn’t mean that your meds aren’t doing their jobs. Like, you will almost certainly at various points in your life have to adjust your dosages or even switch to entirely different medications because plateauing is a thing......with ADHD meds in particular your body can eventually build up a tolerance to the meds and start to account for their presence in your system, and thus decrease their effectiveness overall.....which really just means that its time to switch things up and change to a different dosage or type that your body isn’t used to. 

So the most important thing in my experience is just to stay consistent not just with your meds but with your prescribing doctor, and don’t be hesitant or shy about sharing with them exactly how well or not you feel your meds are working for you.....because they’re the only ones who can truly help you explore other options if they’ve started to not work for you anymore....or help you identify if the problem isn’t that the meds aren’t doing their job but rather that there’s an appearance of more stressors in your life that are burning through your spoons more rapidly than before or making your brain have to work harder or in different ways and your normal medication or previous levels are just no longer able to compensate for how much strain your brain is under.

My best advice is to remember that your brain is ultimately an extremely complicated piece of machinery, and its not broken, and your medication is not a fix. Its simply a new set of tools to help keep your brain working at optimal capacities. Not everyone needs the same set of tools to keep their brains functioning at the same levels or in the same ways, and its just as possible that throughout your life, the specific tools YOU need to keep your brain in its best working order will change and fluctuate over time.......and when that happens, the solution is just to find a new set of tools that works in ways the old ones no longer do. And your medication prescriber is the single best ally you have in finding and maintaining the right sets of tools to keep your brain maintained in its best working condition......BUT they’re only ever going to be as effective at that as like.....your honest self-analysis ALLOWS them to be. They need YOU and your intel on how your brain is doing at any given time, how you’re FEELING emotionally at any given time, and an honest assessment of how well its functioning or fulfilling tasks to in order to like....run accurate diagnostics for that beautiful piece of machinery you got there that both of you are trying to maintain.

And I emphasize that last part because its easy to fall into the trap of looking at various doctors or psychiatrists as having all the answers to the problems you’re having, and that can make it easy to lose focus of the fact that like, most of these answers are ultimately coming from YOU, and they’re supposed to be for YOUR benefit and exist simply to be utilized to give you the tools you need.....so if at any point you start to feel for whatever reason that you CAN’T be fully honest or open with your psychiatrist or that you’re trying to be just that and yet you feel you’re not actually being heard by them......then again, just remind yourself that you and your needs are what’s important here and if you no longer feel that a particular doctor or psychiatrist is your best ally and partner in keeping you up to date with the best set of tools for you to use......then it might be time to switch things up with doctors as well as medications. Obviously it doesn’t sound like that’s an issue now or likely to be even soon, I just wanted to mention it as something to keep in mind for the long road.

Because remember, you’re not looking for a cure-all here. You’re not looking for a one-stop fix, and getting hung up on that, expecting that, is in my personal experience, one of the biggest obstacles I’ve had to overcome. When you stop measuring how well or not the medication is working versus some arbitrary internal expectation of how well you THINK it should work, and start just giving yourself regular self-assessments as to how well or not you’re doing and if you think you could be doing better.....that’s the far more helpful mindset just for me at least.

Think of your refill and prescription appointments as less about taking the car in for repair, and more just for regular tune-ups, with different needs and adjustments likely as the years go on, depending on a variety of factors such as how much wear and tear you’re subjecting your brain to, what kind of conditions you’ve had it working in, changes in terrain, etc.

Good luck!! You got this! You’re actively doing the most important part: working towards solutions.

[ayarambles]

2 and 28 for the ask game 💕💕

2. name something that takes you back to your childhood/your idea of childhood

I answered this one but I will say another thing that reminds me of childhood. Boxed chocolate milk 🥺 My dad would get us a carton of it each week for school but we’d always drink them all just at home as snacks lol so he got us an extra extra big carton but we just forgot it in the mall (like theres a safekeeping place where u keep stuff u bought but dont want to lug around with you around the mall lol and we kept it there and forgot about it for 2 weeks but it was gone lmao) so like chocolate milk always reminds me of that time ooof sorry this got long

28. name something that makes you feel like yourself

damn man dont come at me like that ajdasghjs 

i dont really know who myself is anymore these days n its something im struggling with cause I feel everything I used to define myself as is just another way to conform or to keep up with the idea of myself that someone else has of me y’know? like do I actually enjoying reading anymore? or do I just feel I have to like it because I did for a point in my life and its just something that everyone used to define me “like oh aya yea the bookworm” when I havent been able to even enjoy reading anything for a very long time and ooof its the same way with eveERything else like i just feel everything that made me myself at some point is just fragments of Someone Else’s idea or expectations of me and its not really “me” IDKKKK but i feel most like myself when I’m running because I can get out of my head and just focus on being alive i guess and no one knows me when I run like its just me and my music so YEAAA and this got longer and deeper than the previous one sorry ooof 🤦‍♀️

thanks so much for asking 🥺❤️❤️ 

[zecretsanta]

Fic: Leaf Words

To: @lissa/ @miravariable From: @evilicing

I’m your ZEcret Santa, @lissa! Have some Field siblings stuff, and I sure hope it’s to your liking :) Ooof I hope it’s not too long… I have so many feelings about these two. But I wish you the happiest of holidays, and happy 2020!!!

AO3 link 

I. HOPE

In hindsight, Light barely remembers the day he woke up from his sleep, only that something was wrapped tightly around his head and was obscuring his vision completely—was he in the dark? Alone? With his family? He hadn’t the slightest idea.

And yet…

“It’s Light!” a familiar, sweet voice echoes through his aching head. “He’s awake!”

He hears shuffling throughout the room, like several different pairs of feet are running towards him all at once. He must be in a bed, he realizes, because he can’t seem to feel the ground when he wiggles his toes.

“Big brother, big brother…!" 

Clover. His wonderful baby sister is sobbing endlessly beside him. He feels someone grab his hand, and that must be Clover, too, because the hand is too small and warm to be his mother or father’s.

He hears his mother’s voice in the room, too, feels her breath on his face as she leans over to touch him. 

"Light, y-you’re… you’re awake! Oh, it’s a miracle…”

“Mother… Clover…?”

Now everyone one in the room is sobbing, even his father, who at first seemed to be motionless at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t try to sit up just yet, we’ll help you if you need anything,” a stern, unknown voice instructs from across the room. “How are you feeling, Light?”

Light doesn’t understand the question. “Well… I’ve felt better, I guess…?”

There’s a soft, unexpected chuckle from the same person. “Indeed you have,” he says, and there are distinct noises of someone flipping through papers. “I know your family would like to spend some much-needed time with you, but I need to ask you some questions first, is that all right?”

“Where… am I?”

There’s an awkward silence in the room now, interrupted—thankfully—finally when Clover takes a particularly dramatic sniffle.

The unknown man clears his throat. “You are… well, you’re currently admitted in the hospital, young man. Tell me, do you remember anything at all about… the accident?”

Accident. The word sounds so innocent, like a simple mistake had been made; though something tells Light that, considering he’s in a hospital, that is far from the case.

“I’ll… take that as a no. Quite frankly, you’re… lucky to be alive.” The man rustles through more papers. “You’ve been in a coma for a little over a week, Light. We’ve done everything necessary to keep you alive, and… hopefully, comfortable.” The man clears his throat, but doesn’t continue for a good while. “You’ve had two surgeries since the car accident, and I need to talk to you about them. If that’s alright.”

Light doesn’t realize Clover is still holding his hand until he feels her squeeze it, ever so slightly. Her tiny fingers have become clammy now… maybe he’s squeezing her too tightly.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed your eyes are bandaged. I’m going to take off the bandage to check your healing, if that’s all right with you?”

Lights nods slowly, somewhat thankful that he can’t see the sad, scared faces of his family as they sit here with him; he can imagine his mother’s tear-stained face, his father’s calm disappointment, and Clover’s ridiculous little pout—the one she does when she’s trying to hold back from hysterics. He doesn’t know what else to expect, but unfortunately, no one is speaking anymore or doing anything at all. Everything is spinning, yet time feels like it’s stopped completely.

Why did everything feel so… wrong?

“Um…?” Light starts quietly, unsure. “Aren’t you going to take the bandage off?”

More silence. The room echoes with the quiet coldness of eyes boring into Light from all directions.

“The bandage is off,” the man says. “Try and open your eyes, Light. If you’re able to, please open them.”

A bit surprised, Light bites his lip, and slowly, successfully, opens his eyes.

And that, Light seems to recall, is the exact moment he realizes that his eyes aren’t actually working. He knows they’re open, but when he looks to his right where he knows Clover is sitting, he can’t see her. He knows she’s there, so why can’t he see her? 

Was this some sort of trick? Had they drugged him, taken his eyes?

There’s a certain amount of brightness that catches Light’s attention somehow, and a strange shadow in front of him before he can ponder it further. 

“Be still for me, I’d like to take a look at them,” the doctor says, and Light obeys. He doesn’t know what else to do—doesn’t know where else to look. Is he looking at all? The doctor still has the light in front of him when he asks, “Are you able to see anything?”

The horrible silence again. Even though he can’t see them, he knows everyone is staring at him, waiting. 

“No sir,” Light finally rasps, a horrible pain stuck in his throat. Maybe it’s obvious that he’s trying to appear brave in spite of himself, because he hears his mother let out a sudden sob beside Clover. 

“I see…” The doctor thankfully puts away the bright light. “To be honest, I was afraid the operation wasn’t going to be successful right away… I’m sorry. I’m sure this is all very hard to take in—”

“Is there more you can do for him?” his mother asks, more desperate than Light has ever heard her sound. “You mentioned before that if this surgery wasn’t successful…?”

“Yes, we could certainly try again to correct some of his vision. It would be a much more invasive procedure, but now that he is awake, we can know for sure what he can respond to…”

“So there’s still… hope… is what you’re saying?” his mother asks.

The doctor hesitates. “There is always hope, Mrs. Field. We can try, but that still doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“You said I’ve had two surgeries,” Light interrupts them suddenly, and everyone goes quiet again. “What was… the other one?”

If it wasn’t for Clover’s hand clamped so tightly against his own, Light might’ve had half a mind to think everyone had gotten up and left; the room was completely devoid of life. Apparently no one wanted to answer that question… a truly painful silence, trapping Light somewhere inside.

“L-Light, dear—”

“No, honey, it’s fine,” Light’s father finally speaks up His voice is drawn, a more inward kind of sadness. “Now that he’s awake, we need to tell him everything. He needs to know what happened.”

His father always talks like that, like Light isn’t in the room and can’t actually hear him speaking; for a minute, it’s almost comforting. Light feels like nothing has changed and he’s just at home, studying, while his parents banter about him in the background.

Light hears the doctor shuffle a moment, perhaps setting something down at his bedside. “I won’t keep you much longer, Light. You need to rest, and we need to run a few tests now that you’re awake. But to answer your question… I don’t know how else to tell you except to just… say it outright.”

Swallowing his fear, Light grips Clover’s hand tighter. He’s not alone. His little sister is always here beside him. 

“We did everything we could to save you and keep you stable enough to recover. However, your left arm was completely fractured, the bones crushed and in pieces… there was no way we could have saved it. It was too risky… I’m so sorry.”

Light couldn’t believe it. No. Everyone was lying to him, his parents, this doctor—it couldn’t be true, could it? His arm…? He tries to feel for it out of instinct, but Clover refuses to let go of his hand—apparently, the only hand remaining.

It can’t be real. 

“You’re a very brave boy. No one should have had to go through what you went through last week, but you can make sure that we will do everything in our power to help you recover, hmm?” The doctor’s tone is back to normal now. “We’ll talk more later, when you’ve had time to let everything sink in, but for now… spend some time with your family. I’ll send in a nurse shortly.”

Light feels something gripping at his bedsheets when the doctor’s footsteps get quieter and trail off in the other direction; he finally realizes that it’s just Clover, struggling desperately to pull herself up on the bed and lie beside him. When she’s finally successful, she throws her arms around him without a second thought. 

His mother gasps. “C-Clover, p-please, you can't—your brother needs—”

“Stay,” Light whispers, the only word he can think of. It hurts to speak. He can’t speak any further. He doesn’t know what to say, even if he could. 

But Clover knows. She always understands. She’s the smartest four-year-old Light has ever met.

Her voice inside his head has never been clearer—he can’t explain it, but sometimes he hears her thoughts as if they were his own. Right now, he knows she’s watching over him, and it’s the only thing truly keeping him sane.

I love you, Light, I love you, Light, I love you, I love you…

Light holds his little sister as tight as he can with one frail arm, and lets a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him.

That’s, really, all he remembers from that horrible day.

II. FAITH

Months had passed, but some things seem to never change.

It’s no surprise that Light can hear the sound of his mother’s crying getting closer in the distance; it finally echoes loudly through the hallway before she even makes it to his bedroom door.

“Light, please, you… you have to do something about your sister. She’s completely impossible right now… it’s getting worse.”

Light wishes he could tell his mother to come back later, but that would be insensitive, and he’s already avoided her for the past two hours by pretending to do homework for his newest session of homeschooling; he can’t escape now.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he says, curtly. “If she doesn’t want to talk, I can’t force her to.”

“But she listens to you, Light,” his mother insists. “She’s worships you! You know how much she adores you, and she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place if it wasn’t for your—”

She stops herself, but not soon enough; Light already knows what she was going to say, and it makes his pencil drop to the floor with a deafening crack. He doesn’t bother to try and search for it. 

If it wasn’t for your accident.

It’s true that Clover had taken the news worse than anyone the past several months. Life in the Field household hadn’t been pleasant for anyone, but Clover especially had developed a terrible form of survivor’s guilt from her brother’s tragic accident. The family had been coping, little by little, with the fact that Light was never going to see again; Light, in particular, had already made peace and accepted it quietly. He’d already had three operations to try and repair his vision since the accident, and each time the procedure failed, his faith diminished further until there was nothing left at all except the empty void behind his eyelids. 

He didn’t need anymore doctors to tell him because it was painfully obvious now. There was nothing more anyone could do for him.

But his little sister had taken it to a whole different level; she was traumatized in a way that even Light himself couldn’t comprehend. Thankfully, she hadn’t even been in the car when the accident had occurred (at least there was something Light could be thankful for), but it didn’t change the fact she’d been tremendously affected by it all the same—perhaps because of her love for Light, and maybe even more so that she was too young to truly understand how it was possible that her brother had been injured so badly while she was perfectly fine.

Well, no, she wasn’t fine. Not anymore.

She couldn’t accept that Light was blind and had apparently become fixated on the fact he would, in fact, never see again. It seemed to affect her far more than knowing he’d lost his left arm, too, maybe because his new prosthetic at least had given him back the illusion of something he’d lost. Clover suffered frequent, terrible nightmares, had stopped speaking altogether, and had even went so far as to hide in the darkness and, just last night, had blindfolded herself when their mother had come to drag her to the dinner table.

But above all, she’d even stopped talking to Light, and that was the most unusual of all, and quite possibly the biggest cause for concern. Perhaps that’s when their parents knew the worst had come.

Since then, Clover’s recent therapy at the hospital hadn’t helped her in the slightest, according to his mother, and if anything had made things even worse… for all of them.

“She told me today that if you couldn’t see, then she didn’t want to see either.” His mother’s voice is solemn now, unsure. “I-I-I don’t know what to do. Neither does your father.”

Light feels his lip tremble. “I-I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Clover’s well-being means more to him than anything, and yet… that’s all he can think of to say? That he’s sorry? “This is all my fault… she sees me complaining all the time, and I know I’ve had a lot of bad days lately—”

“No! That’s not—” His mother reaches forward to pull him into her arms so suddenly it’s almost startling. “Light, dear, nothing that his happened has ever been your fault! You’re the strongest person I know, and I promise you I didn’t mean it like that, I just… god, I’m so worried about you both. I feel like such a failure as your mother—and here I am trying to dump my problems onto you, even now…!”

The more upset she gets, the tighter she squeezes him. His mother is suffering too, he knows, in her own way. Even his father had been unsure of how to deal with Light’s blindness, let alone Clover’s isolation. Lately he’d been keeping his distance from them both. The accident had changed him, too. As the driver that day, he’d sustained injuries of his own… but nothing as major as what he’d watched his son suffer through.

“No, it’s… all right, Mother,” Light says, patting her back gently until she calms down. “I’ll… try. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Right now?” She beams. “Are you sure? Th-Thank you, do you need me to…?”

Light reaches for his cane before his mother can even try to help him stand, out of pure motherly instinct.

“I can go by myself,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so cold. “…I’m sorry. What I mean is… she’ll open up more if it’s just me.”

“All right, just…” She stops herself. “J-Just let me know. If you need me.”

Light knows she’s resisting the urge to help guide him to his bedroom door, even now. Light had already made it perfectly clear to everyone that he wanted to learn how to cope with his blindness on his own as much as possible. He knows he needs to learn to be self-sufficient if he has any intentions of getting through this. It’s been difficult for his mother to grasp, but Light knows she’s trying her hardest to honor that request.

Besides, Clover’s bedroom is only slightly down the hallway from his own and to the left. Light barely even needs his cane for such a short distance, but he takes it anyway, if anything, because of his mother’s paranoia he’d fall down and hurt himself further without it. She didn’t need anything else to worry about right now.

He can’t stand to hear her crying any longer. He has to do something, and he knows the entire foundation of his family depends on it.

Light knocks on Clover’s bedroom door slowly, hopefully not loud enough to startle her. “Clover. It’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s no answer, so Light knocks again, this time with his cane.

“I really want to talk to you, it’s… important. Okay? Please.”

Still no answer, but Light can definitely hear movement from inside. He knows that Clover can hear him, and is likely ready to open up to him any minute now.

He hears a small commotion from the other side of the door, and the smallest amount of a groan from Clover. Light isn’t sure what she’s doing in there, but clearly she’d just crashed into something.

“Ow,” she moans from the other side. “Big brother… I’m… I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry… I just…”

“Are you all right?” Light asks. “I’ve been really worried about you. I know you’ve been sad, and you’ve wanted to be alone, but… I really miss you.” He hears Clover start to cry. “Can I please come in and see you?”

“No.” Clover sniffs. “Because you… you can’t see me. Not anymore…”

Light finds himself smiling, despite the circumstances. His sister is far too clever for her own good. “Well, no, but… you know what I mean, silly. Please. Let me come in.”

Barely a second passes. Light hears the lock flip, and the doorknob turns ever-so-slightly at his fingertips. As soon as he hears the door creak open, Clover pulls him inside and shuts the door again quickly behind him.

“Are the lights off in here?” Light asks.

“Yeah…” Clover seems to have calmed down, if only a little. “I’m keeping it dark because… I don’t wanna see anymore…”

“Come here,” Light feels around until he finds one of her tiny hands, trembling at her side, and takes it into his own. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mm-hm,” is her only reply, muffled by tears.

“And I know you love me, too. But this isn’t helping… I need you to understand.” Light pulls her close against his chest, holding her tightly. “I need you now, more than ever…” He breaks out into a small sob of his own. “I want you to be my eyes, Clover. Please. I need you. So much…" 

Clover can barely speak through her tears. "Your… eyes…?”

“I want you to help me, and guide me… I can't—I can’t do this without you. You’re my eyes, Clover. Please…”

Clover falls to the floor crying, and Light follows suit, his knees too weak to hold either of them up. 

“I'm—I'm—so sorry—” Clover hiccups. “B-Big Brother—I—I—”

“Shh.” He pulls her closer, tracing her face until he feels the tear-soaked cloth wrapped snugly around her eyes. “Can I take this thing off you? Please?" 

Clover isn’t possibly able to answer at this point, so Light takes it upon himself to untie her makeshift blindfold and tosses it away. He wishes he could see her smiling face—the cheerful face he remembers, before the accident had taken it away from him. 

"I have something I want to try, but I need your help. I need you to guide me, with your thoughts. You can do that for me, right?” Light helps her stand to her feet. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Y-You mean…?”

“Yeah,” Light says, smiling. “I know you can do it. I’ve heard you talk to me before… you know, in my mind. Maybe sometimes even when you didn’t know you were doing it.”

Clover is silent for a minute, but something finally sparks inside her. “You can… you can hear me?” she asks, impressed. “In your mind…?”

“I’ll show you. Try to ask me a question—but don’t say it out loud—and see if I can answer it." 

"Um… well…” she’s fidgeting, and Light can feel the vibrations of it as she shuffles her feet against the carpet. “I can only do it… sometimes…”

“Try,” Light encourages her, warmly. He walks away a small distance, if only to give her space. He tries to concentrate. He clears his mind of everything except for Clover.

“Okay,” she says, “but I’m going to go turn the light on…”

He hears Clover trip over her toys at least twice on the way there, but she ultimately finds the light switch and takes a deep breath. She goes completely still and quiet, so quiet that Light can hardly focus on where she is.

And then he hears it.

What’s my favorite color?

“Pink,” Light answers aloud, without skipping a beat. He hears Clover gasp from across the room.

“H-How did you—!?” Clover is bouncing around, almost her normal self again. If Light had known this would have cheered her up so much, he would have let her onto his secret sooner.

“I think… we’re special, somehow,” Light says, and he feels Clover climb onto the bed to sit beside him. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not until we can figure it out some more.”

“A-Ask me a question, ask me—!” It’s hard to believe just a moment ago Clover was sobbing uncontrollably. “I wanna try, too…!”

“I… can’t right now.” Light frowns. “I-I don’t know why, but… I can’t seem to send my thoughts to you as easily as you can. I can hear you, but…”

“Well, we can practice!”

Light smiles serenely at her enthusiasm. “Yes. We’ll practice all the time, and we’ll get even better at it, won’t we? That’s why I need you to try and feel better, okay?”

“Okay.” Clover leans over to wrap her tiny arms around his waist, her face still wet from her earlier tears. “I’ll do it, I wanna help you!”

At the very least, he’d given Clover a purpose—something to help distract her from the pain.

“Let’s try it, then. Can you… help me get downstairs? Mother is waiting on us.”

“Downstairs?” Clover seems to be deep in thought. “Help you…?”

“Come on.” Light stands up and reaches out for her hand; he makes a show of throwing away his walking stick. “I don’t need this anymore. As long as we’re together, you can… guide me. With your special voice. Right?”

“Oh…!” Clover seems to understand now, and takes the hand he offers. “Let me… umm…” She’s concentrating again, Light can feel it. 

And just like that, for half a second, something flashes into his mind. It’s not a picture, but he can almost see the room as if he was Clover, just for a moment—indistinct, but enough to jolt him forward in the right direction. 

And then they try it.

Forward. Right. Hallway… stairs… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine steps… kitchen…

“Oh! Light… Clover!”

Their mother must drop everything she’s doing, because Light hears the clatter of plates against the counter when she sees them. She’s examining them closely, as if she’d seen a pair of ghosts. “You two…! Oh Clover, how are you feeling, baby girl? Come here!”

Clover lets go of Light’s hand and skips forward to her mother—Light can hear Clover’s footsteps disappear, and that must mean their mother has picked her up and scooped Clover protectively into her arms.

“Light, where is… your cane?” It’s his father’s voice this time, sitting at the table to his right. “How did you…?”

Smiling, Light reaches confidently for the nearest dining chair. He traces it, following Clover’s silent instruction, and manages to sit flawlessly in front of him. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Father. I don’t need it… I made it all the way down here without it.”

“What?” His mother sounds equally as worried as she is impressed. “You didn’t use it at all?”

“No, I had Clover with me. She’s really good at leading me, aren’t you, Clover?”

Clover jumps down from her mother’s arms. “Yep! From now on, I promise to help Light see. That’s okay, right, Mom?”

Their parents must have been speechless, because it goes silent in the room before anyone dares to speak again.

Clover giggles. “Mommy, are you crying?”

“U-Um, no, that’s… that’s wonderful, sweetheart,” their mother sniffs softly, relief somewhere in her voice before it breaks. “I’m just so happy to see you smiling again. And you too, Light. Oh, you both have such… beautiful smiles…”

But Light already knows that. He’s already promised himself that he’ll never forget his sister’s smile, no matter how many years pass. If there’s one thing he holds onto, it’ll be that one solitary thing. 

And Clover will help him with the rest.

III. LOVE

“Alright, big bro. Prepare yourself.” Clover stands deviously, confidence ever-present in her piping voice. “I’ve single-handedly picked out the most amazing outfit for your special date tonight—!”

Light acknowledges her with a tiny smile, but doesn’t react any further until he absolutely has to.

This most certainly isn’t going to end well, and there’s really no point in pretending otherwise. Though Clover’s interest in his affairs is decidedly amusing at times, it’s also a bit embarrassing. She’s always been the one excited for his “dates”… truly, even more so than Light himself.

Not only that, but whatever Clover has “single-handedly” picked out for him is unfortunately something that Light knows he’ll never see the price-tags of; Light’s heart sinks at the thought of her spending what little money she has accrued from her allowance on him. She’s done this ever since they were small children, and Light can’t understand why it means so much to her to “spoil him,” as she so eloquently names it.

They’ve been through this so many times before, and Light fears he’s only going to sound like a broken record before he even begins. 

“Clover… you… you didn’t have to go through the trouble of buying me a new outfit, you know. You’ve already bought me so many nice things I could have worn tonight instead.” He gets the succinct feeling that she isn’t even listening, because he can hear her prancing through the room, humming, gleefully sorting through her shopping bags. “Surely one of my old suits will suffice…”

“No, no, tonight is special! Don’t you understand how important it is to dress to impress?!”

“So you say.” Light shakes his head, unable to keep back the smile forming at the corners of his lips; despite all his griping, ultimately, his sister’s happiness is too contagious for words. And she knows it. “For all I know, you’ve been dressing me from head to toe in fluorescent pink each time I consult you with the task of my wardrobe." 

Clover scoffs in amusement. "Trust me, the thought has crossed my mind a couple times…” She skips forward, and Light feels her tugging at his hands. “But this is a date! You haven’t been on a real date in forever!”

Each time Clover says “date,” Light’s chest tightens a little more.

“Oh, thank you for the reminder, I haven’t spent even a moment of my time today worrying about that, I assure you.” He exhales. “Unless what you bought me is going to turn me into a literal prince until the clock strikes midnight, I highly doubt it’s going to change the fact that I’m a nervous wreck right now, Clover.”

“Well, that’s exactly what this outfit is gonna do!” If Light didn’t know Clover so well, he might have mistaken her blind optimism for blatant sarcasm. 

“If you must know…” Light allows his brows to furrow, plainly, in dissatisfaction. “I plan on butchering this ‘date’ from start to finish, regardless of what I’m wearing.”

“Don’t be like that,” Clover begs, almost pitifully; why Light’s relationship status (or preferred lack thereof) means so much to her, he’ll never know. “Ugh, seriously though, I found the best stuff… pretty please try it on? It’s getting late… you have to get dressed ASAP!” She puts particular emphasis on those four single letters, as if they’d save him. “Come on, I hung the clothes on the door for you! But I want you to feel them out first, okay?”

Light acquiesces soon enough. “Fine, I suppose I’m at your mercy…” He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Well, if I’m going to butcher anything, I might as well do it in style.”

“That’s the spirit!”

As Clover leads him straight to the clothes in question, Light can’t help but reminisce; in truth, Clover has been playing dress-up with him ever since she was a little girl, even before he’d lost his sight and Clover was barely old enough to even pick out her own clothes, let alone his. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the passion would grow even further the more she aged, like any young teenage girl would, and she’d focus her sights so heavily on fashion. The past year in particular had sparked a particular, new kind of interest in make-up, or at least what he understood from the more recent conversations he’d overheard between Clover and their mother.

“You’re only fifteen, dear! I wish you wouldn’t wear so much make-up… and you have so many clothes!”

“But I look good, mo~om!”

How he wishes he could see his sister’s apparent flair for the aesthetics all for himself! He tries not to think about how he’s truly been robbed of watching her grow up into the young woman she is now, clearly no longer the tiny child he remembers seeing all those years ago. Perhaps it’s his bias as her big brother, but he still can’t imagine Clover being anything but the most adorable little creature on the planet.

And though Light trusts her completely, he can only imagine that she truly does have a talent for picking out suitable clothes for him, at least, because their mother always seems pleased to see him dressed up when Clover arranges an outfit for him. He can’t imagine his own mother letting him leave the house in something completely unbefitting of him— on the flip side of things, she stops Clover nearly every time she leaves the house for “dress code violations” of her own.

When he finally reaches the new outfit hung delicately on the door, he starts with the top. His fingertips collide with something soft, but not quite thin enough to be a shirt; perhaps it’s an overcoat, or a blazer. 

“What color is this?” he asks with piqued interest. “And you’d better not say pink.”

“It’s black! I wasn’t sure what color your date would be wearing, but… you can’t go wrong with black, right?”

“I suppose. And this underneath… is this a vest of some sort?”

“Mm-hmm,” Clover coos beside him, enjoying herself. “Also black.”

“Two rows of buttons,” Light continues his commentary, “and I can only assume the cuff-links on this jacket are the same.”

“You’re so good at this!” Clover beams. “And of course the pants match the overcoat. I’m saving the best part for last, so you should hurry and change! The symphony starts in less than an hour, you know!”

“I know, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I suppose I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’re going to look amazing! Trust me!”

By the time Clover manages to shove the clothes at him and push him into the bathroom to change, Light’s uncertainty had already started to grab hold of him. No, he couldn’t think like that… not after Clover went out of her way to pick these things out for him tonight. He’s going to look amazing. No matter what, he trusts his sister’s instinct over all else. She wouldn’t let him make a fool of himself in an outfit he had absolutely no chance of feeling comfortable in.

If Clover insists on it being perfection, then it must be true.

After putting on his dress shirt, he’d already grown tired of it because of all the buttons; why these fancy suits have so many damned buttons, he’ll never know—but once he gets the vest on, too, everything does, indeed, start to feel… perfect. And once he finishes with the overcoat, Light is positive he’s ready to face his sister for inspection. 

“You had better not laugh if I look ridiculous,” he warns her through the door. “And I hope I’m not going to be terribly overdressed…”

“Oh, just come out, already! I wanna see, I wanna see!”

Letting out a quick sigh, Light opens the door and steps forward in one swift movement. He isn’t sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that he’s blind and can’t see her reaction in this moment—the suspense is already driving him mad beyond words.

But thankfully he can hear it:  the way she lets out a nearly-silent gasp, the clap of her hands as they collide together in triumph, her feet bouncing against the carpet. 

“Light, you’re so freaking handsome! Omigod! If you dressed like this every day, you’d be breaking hearts left and right!” Clover giggles contentedly as she picks at him, smoothing out any wrinkles, making sure he hadn’t missed any buttons. “Seriously, you’d be getting dates every single day!”

“That would be exhausting,” he teases her, flinching when he feels her fidgeting with his collar. “What on earth are you doing to me? I remember Mother fussing over me like this as a child, when we went to funerals and weddings, and—”

“I’m just adding the finishing touch! Bend down some, you’re so tall!” Clover bats his hand away when he tries to feel what she’s doing. “And you can’t touch it until I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”

“I assure you this is all a surprise to me, dear sister,” he quips, frowning. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you buying all these things for me.”

“Well, just be happy. Besides, if it makes you feel better… Mom helped chip in, too. She’s excited you’re getting out of the house for once and that it isn’t me forcing you to.”

“Is she now?” Light says, but it’s not so much a question as it’s a mumble of annoyance. He loves his mother dearly, but she’s almost more meddlesome than Clover when it comes to his social life…

“Okay, there!” Clover says, jumping back to give him some space. She’s clearly ready for him to investigate it for himself.

Light hesitantly reaches up to feel at his collar; instead of blank space, there are two triangular flaps that meet in the middle now, connected.

“Is this a… bowtie?” He laughs. “My, you really are having fun with this, aren’t you?”

Clover giggles at that, but Light can hear the way her voice suddenly fades into something more serious.

“It, um… it matches your eyes.”

Light goes still, and perhaps on instinct, looks down and blinks open his eyes as if he could see it for himself. The sentiment is more than enough, however, because he can feel Clover press up from behind and wrap him into a tight hug. He can feel the warmth of her face against the hollow of his back. He allows himself to relax completely in her embrace.

Of course. His sister always has his back. Often quite literally. Why should he be worried?

And then Clover’s small, telepathic voice interrupts his thoughts completely.

I love you so much. Please have fun tonight. Please? You… you deserve it. It would mean the whole world to me. O-Okay?

Light fears that if he so much as breathes, the moment will be forever ruined, so he holds his breath and focuses on the little things. Hope. Clover’s heartbeat, resonating with his own. Faith. The sound her eyelashes make when they flick open-and-shut. Love. The unbreakable bond they share as siblings who, sometimes, have little else in common than mere genes and a lifetime of memories together. And luck—the tiniest, most insignificant ways she finds to motivate Light into seeing the beauty of a world he can no longer see for himself.

And Light realizes he appreciates these things more and more every day, if only because of Clover’s incessant prodding. 

“Thank you, Clover,” he says quietly, when Clover finally lets go and leads him to his desk chair. “…For everything. You realize I don’t know what I’d ever do without you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Well, for starters, I certainly wouldn’t look this good, now would I?”

Clover snickers behind her hand—Light can hear it muffled—until they both break out into a small cacophony of laughter. He lives for these moments.

“You’re so full of it, you know,” Clover teases. “Now sit down, I have to do something quick about your hair. Thankfully, yours is just as unmanageable as mine, so all your fluffy tangles are just gonna look natural, which is good because I think it’ll look nice when we run a comb through it, because I really can’t imagine slicking it back or something, and obviously your hair is too short to tie back into a ponytail, and—”

She rattles on, and Light has a hard time keeping up with her beauty tips when she gets like this… but this is the Clover he prefers. The carefree, unfiltered soul that has seen tragedy after tragedy and still yet has the courage to smile. Clover is always teaching him about love—what family means. 

Every time he hears her laughter, Light promises himself that he’ll protect her until his dying breath. He’ll make sure she stays safe forever, if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Clover’s rant is rudely interrupted by the doorbell, and Light goes stiff; he’s positive that Clover can feel him tense at the sudden noise, and the terrifying realization of what was to come next. He waits a beat before reacting to it.

“Did you order a pizza?” Light asks hopefully. “Invite some friends over, perhaps?”

“Nope,” Clover says, no doubt a devious grin on her innocent little face. She has to practically lift Light to his feet to motivate him further. “Well, go get 'em, killer.”

“Ugh…” Light straightens himself out before burying his face in his hands. “Well, I must admit, there is something about this suit that makes me feel surprisingly confident. Let’s hope it lasts.”

“Well, it will, unless later tonight you plan on taking the suit off…”

“All right, all right, that’s enough of that talk,” Light cuts her off, quite aware of the light layer of pink now dusting his cheeks; there’s no way he can answer the door blushing. To make matters worse, Clover’s suggestive giggling doesn’t stop until Light makes it halfway down the hallway and to the front door.

Of course he can hear her tip-toeing ever-so-closely to spy on him as he opens the door and halfway steps outside; knowing Clover, she probably wants to hear the exact reaction to the suit she’d put so much work into, so Light allows her to eavesdrop, just this once.

“Good evening.”

“Light, oh, you look… w-wow, you look... amazing.” Clover can surely hear Light’s date stutter, and there’s nothing in his voice to suggest that his reaction is anything if not genuine. "How in the world did you know I’d be wearing a bowtie, too? This is too perfect.“

Intuition! a familiar voice echoes in Light’s mind, so well-timed that Light almost wishes he’d thought of the answer himself. And tell him it matches your eyes! It’s sooo romantic!

"Intuition, I suppose,” Light answers, on script, and Clover swears she sees Light glance back inside the house for a moment before slowly closing the door behind him with a knowing smile. “M-My sister tells me it, ah… matches my eyes.”

Clover grins in triumph, if only because Light’s date is momentarily speechless. Her brother is so ridiculously charming that she’s surprised the poor guy hasn’t fainted yet.

Bullseye.

IV. LUCK

“I hope Mom and Dad make it to the airport okay… I really wanted to see them off.” Clover is kicking her feet against the bottom of the couch, a combination of both nerves and habit. “I can’t believe they’re going on vacation without us!”

“It’s not a vacation, Clover,” Light corrects her, taking a seat beside her, book in hand. “Father was called away for business, and Mother is simply going to assist him for moral support. You know how he gets on such short notice like this. Mother makes a good secretary for him, at the very least.”

“I know, I know,” she says, sing-song. “Still…”

“Well, at least we get to spend time together, just the two of us. It’ll be just like old times, when we were kids, no?” Light’s smile suddenly darkens into something more severe. “Though I still can’t imagine why our parents left me in charge back then…”

“Ahaha!” Clover slaps her hand quickly over her mouth before she can laugh further. “O-Oh come on, don’t tell me you still hold a grudge for all that…!”

“A grudge?” Light tries his best to sound terse. “Clover, you colored all over the walls—and me—with your art supplies, all under my watch! I was completely mortified when they came home to find our house a complete nightmare!” He narrows his eyes. “Not that I would have ever known, of course.”

Clover holds her stomach in pain as she continues her laughing fit. “N-No…. aha… ha… s-stop—!”

“I suppose in that moment they completely forgot I was blind and couldn’t possibly  have known what you were up to, because I truly thought Mother was going to punish me even worse than you that night!”

“I-I’m… ahaha… so sorry! I don’t… ahahaha…! Know why it’s so funny… hahahaha… even now!”

“Clearly you find some amusement in besmirching my honor, because if it wasn’t for the fact that you finally fessed up, I would have forever been painted the culprit that night… literally.”

“I didn’t mean to spill the paint all over you when you were asleep!” Clover defends, hysterical. “You were just there! And then once I spilled the paint, I figured I might as well make you into a pretty picture… pffttt… pbbt… ahahaha—" 

"Clearly, looking after children isn’t my strong suit… I’d be an absolutely terrible father!” Light can’t hold back his own laughter any longer. “Well, in any case, I beg you to kindly never play that kind of prank on me ever again, thank you very much.” He crosses his arms. “I don’t think our parents would ever forgive me, if something like that were to happen again." 

He expects some sort of witty remark from his sister, or even more cackling, but for some reason, Clover falls silent.

"Clover?” he asks, confused. He reaches forward to feel for her spot on the couch, where he knows she was just sitting only moments ago, but his hands grasp empty air; the seat is still warm, however, from where he knew Clover’s form to be. “Clover, wh-when did you leave? I didn’t even—”

He hadn’t even heard her footsteps. How… strange. 

Light prided himself in observing his surroundings in vivid detail, most importantly by hearing things, then feeling them—usually vibrations always accompany footsteps, too, in a house. But he hadn’t felt a thing.

Of course, Clover knew this about him, and at some point in her childhood, had even found ways to outsmart him—hide from him, even. She knew his weaknesses, his strengths…

Was this some sort of game? A prank, perhaps, considering their last conversation had been about just that…?  

“Clover, if this is some sort of joke, I don’t find it the least bit funny—”

And that’s when Light’s final remaining sense kicks in, and he hates himself for not noticing it sooner. That smell... 

He feels himself get light and airy, his knees trembling beneath him as he tries to stand. He covers his mouth as best he can, in hopes that whatever is affecting his neurological state, he’ll be able to escape from it before his brain succumbs to it completely.

Light isn’t sure how long he can hold his breath like this, but if he could only find the front door…!

If he were able to see at this moment, he’s positive his vision would be blurred and impossible to use anyway. His fingers feel numb when he reaches out to procure a path around him; still, he knows what room he’s in, and the doorway isn’t far.

No, wait, he has to find Clover first—!

His mind grows increasingly hazy. Was she still in this room, too?! Had someone taken her? Had she inhaled this gas, just like him, and fallen? Light tries to turn and feel for the floor, but before he can investigate further, he drops involuntarily to his knees in the other direction. 

He no longer has the control needed to stand… no… if only he… could…!

Finally, that’s when he feels it. A subtle vibration on the floor. He knows for a fact he’s not alone right now. There’s someone else in the room…! To make it worse, the footsteps aren’t Clover’s; he knows hers too well to mistake them, even at a time like this.

This was just like the time… all those years ago… no, it—it couldn’t be…

Light is able to lift his head, only a little, from the ground. There’s definitely someone standing over him. Not alone… someone…

“Wh-” He gasps for the air he knows he shouldn’t be breathing in. “Wh-wh…are you…?!”

Light supports himself enough to manage a feeble crawl forward, colliding with something that doesn’t even bother to evade his grab. Light makes contact with something long and thin—a robe, maybe—that doesn’t cover the person’s feet. They’re as still as stone when Light attempts to crawl even higher, clawing at the person’s lower leg, almost to the knee, and then finally—

They don’t even have to touch him. He falls all on his own, unceremoniously, back to the floor with a loud thud. Before Light loses consciousness completely, he feels himself being carried away, somewhere painfully unknown. He tries to smell for Clover’s scent, listen for her voice, but…

The last thing he hears is the muffled, distinctive breathing of someone masked and untouchable:

“Let our game begin,” they say, voice obscured. “…I wish you only the best of luck.”