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sheerfreesia007 · 1 day ago

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In Sickness & In Health

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word count: 2,180

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Han has always been your best friend ever since you were both little. But when you get sick and need his help getting your class notes and assignments your other friends clue Han into how attractive he is. But what happens when he asks you if you think he’s attractive?

A/N: Divider was created by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you for sharing your dividers with tumblr!

Hey Ji! I’ve got a cold and it’s really kicking my butt. I won’t be in class this week. Can you do me a favor and just let me copy your notes for the week? I’ll get with Iyo to get the notes for my other classes. Thanks Ji. I really appreciate it! That had been your text on Sunday, the two of you had been hanging out the day before and got caught in the rain on the way home. He had worriedly told you that you were probably going to get sick but you had reassured him that you would be okay. And lo and behold, he had been right. After getting your text he had quickly called you gently scolding you that he had been right and that you would get sick because of the rain, but when he heard how scratchy and hoarse your voice sounded he had felt bad about scolding you. So he had quickly told you to rest and try to get better, he’d take care of all of the notes for you and make sure you got all of your work and homework assignments as well.

You and Han had been best friends ever since you were kids, your parents had known each other way before either one of you had been born and had stayed close through the years. Even moving to the same town and same street to live, so your lives were intertwined completely and fully from a very early age. Han couldn’t imagine his life without you in it and he knew you felt the same way. The two of you were so close that the two of you move as if you’re one, you finish each other’s sentences, there’s almost an intuition when it comes to your relationship. Either one of you can tell when there’s something wrong or going on with the other one and already figuring it out or talking about it before the other realizes it.

And it was always so funny to Han that the two of you fit so well together because you were exact opposites of each other. He was anxious while you were unconcerned, you were outgoing while he took a while to warm up to people, he was a homebody while you were someone who enjoyed going out. He teased you that you were the peanut butter to his jelly and that was how your nicknames of PB and Ji-lly had formed.

The two of you were inseparable and Han preferred it that way, he was the more socially awkward one out of the two of you and relied heavily on you to help guide him through friendships. Han had always been into things that others found nerdy or geeky, anime, comic books, superheroes, and music. He had always been bullied for the things he liked and found pleasure in but you had never judged him, in fact you had tried to understand him and enjoy the same things he did. He loved that about you, you always had an open mind on everything you may not have understood it or enjoyed it as much as Han did but you always tried to. He was so grateful for your friendship that he would do anything for you.

Which is how he found himself taking meticulous notes for the two of you during your shared classes. The bell rings for the end of class and Han pushes up his round framed glasses as he finishes the last of the notes before stowing away his books in his backpack. Slipping his cell phone out of his pocket he sends a quick text to Iyo. Hey Iyo, can I swing by and grab the notes and assignments for PB? I’m going to stop by her place today and want to have everything ready for her. He waited until he got a response form her and then asked for her location so that he could swing by. With Iyo’s location Han quickly left the classroom preparing to get everything together for you before heading to your apartment.

The cafe is lively as Han enters it looking around for Iyo, she had mentioned that she’d be there with a few of your mutual friends on their break and that he could swing by and pick up the notes and work assignments she had for you. When he hears Iyo’s bright laughter he turns to find her sitting at a table in the middle of the cafe with your friends. Walking over they all slowly stop laughing and turn to face him with various greetings. Han shyly waves at them with a shaky smile slipping onto his face as he buries his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

”Hey Han!” Greets Iyo as she begins rummaging through her backpack to get all of the notes and assignments for him. “Have you talked to PB? Is she doing better?” Iyo asks curiously. “She hasn’t responded to me in a few hours.”

”Yeah I talked to her about an hour ago before my last class. She’s okay, still got a sore throat and feeling like crap but her fever broke this morning thankfully.” Han responded easily while smiling softly.

“Aww that’s really sweet of you to be keeping up with her while she’s sick.” One of your mutual friends mentions and Han nods his head at her as she smiles up at him.

”Yeah, you’re really a big sweetheart to her for helping her out like this.” Another chimes in and Han starts to feel a little self conscious of their praise of him. He shifts on his feet anxiously and Iyo looks up at him with a soft frown directed at her friends.

”Guys, enough.” Iyo scolded them and they all giggled as they leaned into each other.

”I mean if I had such a hot best friend like Han I wouldn’t let him go without trying to be with him.” Another friend spoke up and Han turned his head sharply to stare at them with wide eyes as the table dissolved into giggles again and Iyo rolled her eyes at them.

”Ignore them Han. They’re just jealous.” Iyo tried to explain their words and behavior away and Han just nodded his head quickly before taking the folder that she held out to him.

”Jealous of what?” Han asked curiosity getting the best of him and not being able to let it go until he knew what she meant.

”Of PB having a hot best friend who’s too sweet for her.” One of the friends said and the table erupted into giggles once again which made Han frown softly at their words. Iyo shook her head at him and then gestured for Han to leave which Han nodded and thanked her softly for the notes and assignments before he quickly left. The words of your mutual friends ringing in his ears and bouncing along the walls of his mind.

Han walks up to your apartment door and quickly opens the door with the spare key that you gave him years ago. He quickly slips out of his shoes and brings the bag of take out into the kitchen before moving around to heat it all up for the two of you. When he had the food ready and hot he put it on a tray before carrying it into your bedroom.

When he spotted you curled up in your bed buried underneath your blankets with just the top of your head peeking out he smiled softly. Placing the tray of food on your end table he sat on your bed before placing a gentle hand on your side.

”PB, wake up PB. I need you to eat something before taking more medicine.” He called out to you softly. You slowly stirred from sleep and Han watched fondly as you groggily sat up in bed letting the blankets fall from you. He chuckled softly as he gazed at you, your hair was a mess on the top of your head, your eyes are red rimmed and your face looks drowsy still even though he’s pretty sure that you’ve slept for the whole day.

”Hey Ji-lly.” You said in a raspy tone and Han smiled softly at you as he gently raised his hand to comb through your hair.

”You’re a mess PB.” He teased softly and you smiled crookedly at him as your eyes closed gently. “C’mon you need to eat something before you take your medicine.” He told you and he watched as you nodded your head obediently. He gently handed you the bowl of soup and waited until you began eating before he took his own bowl and began to eat.

As the two of you ate Han’s mind kept replaying the encounter at the cafe and without him knowing it you began to pick up that something was bothering him. After taking a couple spoonfuls of your soup you lower your bowl to your lap and turn to look at Han.

”Alright Ji-lly, spill it. What’s bothering you?” You ask him and he looks over at you in surprise.

“I-“ he begins before sighing softly as a knowing smile graces his lips. “When I met up with Iyo there were some of your other friends there and they said some stuff that made me curious and a little uncomfortable.” He admitted and you tilted your head to the side as you continued eating your soup.

”What was it?” You asked as your eyes kept darting back to him from your soup bowl.

”They said that I was super sweet for getting your notes and assignments for you. But then they also said that I was hot and that they were jealous of you having a sweet hot best friend.” Han told you and you looked at him surprised before he opened his mouth and spoke up again. “Do you think I’m attractive?” He asked suddenly and you jolted in your spot on the bed in surprise at his question before you shyly darted your eyes away from him for a moment.

”Ji-lly you’re very attractive.” You tell him honestly and Han stares at you with wide eyes at your confession. “But it’s not just looks that’s attractive about you.” You say and Han tilts his head at you curiously. “It’s everything. Your sweetness, your excitable passions that you get so worked up over that you rant for hours on end about them, your patience to always make sure that I understand things that you’re sharing with me, your inclusion of me in everything in your life.” You admit softly and Han smiles fondly at you before he chuckles softly.

”That just sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” He jokes teasingly as he looks down at his soup bowl and finishes the last of his soup. When he realizes that haven’t responded to his joke he whips his head up to stare at you surprised. He scoots closer to you and raises his hand to press his glasses further up his nose nervously as you look down at your bowl with a soft pretty blush dusting your cheeks. “Are you in love with me?” He asks softly with baited breath.

You shrug your shoulders at him and your eyes are avoiding any connection with his own as your blush intensifies on your cheeks. Han moves even closer to you and reaches out to cup your face with both of his hands tilting it up to look at him.

”Are you in love with me like I’m in love with you?” He asks softly and smiles as he watches your eyes widen at his admission before you’re melting in his hold with a soft look overcoming your face.

”Yes, Ji-lly. I’m in love with you just like you’re in love with me.” You admit to him softly and he smiles at you sweetly. He then leans forward puckering his lips to kiss you but just as his lips are about to make contact your hand comes up in between both of your mouths to block him. When Han’s lips press against your palm he jolts back and looks at you slightly wounded and you huff at him. “Ji-lly I’m still sick. Don’t you remember?” You tease him gently and Han blushes brightly at your reminder as you grin at him softly.

”When you’re feeling better can I kiss you then?” He asks softly and your grin widens on your face.

”Well duh, we’re dating now so I would assume you would kiss me when I’m better.” You tell him and he balks at your words before he melts into your bed and cuddles into your side as you finish your soup.

”Dating huh?” He asks smugly and you grin at him before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

”Don’t get cocky yet Ji-lly. It’s gonna be our first kiss.” You tell him teasingly and suddenly Han buries his face into your shoulder as a blush consumes him as embarrassment grips him.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway

#my writing #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung

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bunny-jpeg · 2 hours ago

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pretty little panties - simon r. simon wanted something that reminded him of home. he was tucked away in latvia near the russian border. it was a pretty simple mission, but he missed his honey, his dove, his everything.

you were all the way back home, he bet at that very moment with the time differences and everything, you were probably tucked under the covers in your shared bed. under that fleece black and white blanket you loved so much. your face pressed against the stuffed animal he bought for you before his deployment - a little reminder of him. he bet you were nice and cozy. and that gave some ease of mind. after all, you were what was he was fighting for. making sure good in the world stayed good. it let him rest easier between missions.

but it also gave him a raging erection.

simon didn't ask for many things. he was a hard person to get gifts for as a result. but when he got a rather small, thin care package from you. he was delighted to find a hand written letter that smelled like you and inside the folds of paper were a pair of pretty pink panties.

at the end of the letter it read, "take good care of them, i want them back when you come home." and simon could have kissed you on the lips at that very moment! he snuck them into his pocket for later.

it wouldn't be for a few days till he was able to really feel the soft fabric between his fingers. your panties spent most of the time in his tactical vest. the knowledge that it was there felt good, like when he had your picture in his helmet. felt like a little piece of you was with him. he couldn't wait to get his hands on you, feel you in his grasp once more. you were such a pretty sight to see and feel, and while the panties were pretty and smelled like you. they weren't you.

alone in his room for the night. he tried to get comfortable in bed with his green shirt and casual pants on. he leaned back into the few pillows he had and started to palm his cock through his pants. he got the panties out of the pocket. they had been his little good luck charm since they arrived. he brought them to his nose and deeply inhaled before he got his cock out of his pants.

he spat in his rough palm and started to stroke his cock. it really wasn't the same as your more delicate hands. hands not cracked from war. they were soft with next to no callouses. they felt like heaven on his cock, your mouth was even better. it didn't take long before he wrapped the panties around his hard cock and continued to stroke himself.

he imagined you where he was. at the base he was at. tucked away for a little visit. you wouldn't fit in at all on the base, obviously standing out as a civilian. but simon would make sure you got anything you needed. he protected his little dove. the love of his life, after all you gave him such a little present. pre-cum stained the pink cotton, but he kept stroking himself. the pleasure was built up in his body. he'd make sure that you'd both fit in the tiny bed he currently slept in. even that meant him having to sleep on the floor. your comfort was the most important.

his dark eyes closed and he continued to stroke himself quickly. thoughts of you plagued his mind. he tensed up a little and more pre-cum spilled out. he thought about all the things he'd do to you. how your pretty body would move up and down his cock when you rode him.

he'd wrapped his strong arms around you and bounce you on his cock. he'd finish load after load in you. give you messy kisses. he wanted to feel his angel again, you were just perfect for him. he loved you so very much. he wanted those hot kisses and those gentle cuddles. how you'd trace patterns across his skin and snuggle in his arms.

he loved you.

so it didn't take much longer for him to cum all over the panties. the cotton was ruined with his thick cum. he knew there was no way to save them. but yet he kept rubbing his oversensitive cock with them. he couldn't help himself. it just felt so good.

he knew the next time he got the chance to message you. he'd apologize for ruining the pretty pair you gave him, and ask very nicely for another one. that he'll definitely treat nicer. <3

inspired by recent events

#bunny writes #reader insert #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty smut #call of duty x female reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #cod x reader #cod smut #ghost smut

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pineconepie · 9 hours ago

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oooo how about vincent with reader and one of his parties gone wrong? maybe reader gets hurt or almost dies?

Here you go!! <3

TW: Near-death experience (for Reader), mentions of murder, attempted murder, poisoned Reader, hospitals

"Stay close by me," Vincent reminds you once again, squeezing your hand tighter in his own gloved one. "You don't have permission to talk to strangers or leave my sight."

You almost scoff. As if you ever have permission.

Its been at least three months since you've started living with him. Despite being constantly monitored, you don't necessarily hate living with him. After getting used to his treatment of you, it's pretty comforting.

Being able to depend on somebody and not worry about things is nice. Other than a few rules, you can basically do whatever you want as long as it doesn't involve running away, hurting anyone or yourself, or disrespecting Vincent.

Overall, it could be way worse.

Vincent looks at you for confirmation.

"I know," you mumble. "No going near strangers or leaving your sight. I'm not stupid."

The blond chuckles softly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. "No, you're certainly not dumb, pumpkin, but sometimes it takes more than smarts to keep safe. Remember what we said? The world is dangerous." He ruffles your hair gently. "And hey, if you don't wanna stay for long, we don't have to. Just need to make appearances, all that good stuff."

You nod. "Okay."

Honestly, if you had a choice, you wouldn't attend this gala whatsoever. It was a meeting between members of Cryo, but not like their usual monthly one.

Instead, this was actual an annual thing hosted in order to show off Cryo's successes over the year and hopefully find prospective members.

Vincent was reluctant when you told him you wanted to go, since apparently these galas were usually rather boring and weren't suited for "babies" like you (in Vincent's words). Plus, there'd be plenty of alcohol, gambling, and lots of "grown-up conversations."

But you managed to convince him with your puppy dog eyes and pleading. He's weak for those, you've noticed. Always wants to please you.

He had gotten you the nicest dress/suit, even though you already had at least five ones to choose from. He donned a black suit with a purple tie and matching slacks. His gloves were also black and leather, as well as his belt and shoes. He finished the look off with cufflinks shaped like golden bullets and a matching broach on his suit.

"You nervous, kiddo?" he asks in concern, squeezing your hand tighter.

"A little bit," you admit. "Just want people to like me."

Vincent frowns at you. "Well, if they're mean to you, they'll end up six feet under, so no need to worry about that."

"I don't want people to die either," you grumble. "Especially just because of me."

Vincent pinches your cheeks. "They can either be respectful to you, or dead. Their choices, doesn't seem like a hard one, either."

You swat at his hand, and he laughs. Soon enough, the two of you reach a large, extravagant looking building, lit up brightly despite the late night.

He guides you towards the entrance, and you enter into a massive hall filled with hundreds of people, most likely part of Cryo. Its quite loud inside. There's music playing somewhere nearby as well.

Everyone seems dressed formally. Suits and dresses abound. Several waiters walk by holding trays piled high with hors d'oeuvres and wine glasses.

Vincent continues to guide you towards a specific spot—where the guests are gathering to greet one another. As soon as he shows up, everyone greets him. Some of them eye you suspiciously or curiously, but they seem to know better than to outright approach you.

And you notice they only acknowledge your existence briefly before turning away and continuing their conversations with him or each other.

He notices you staring. "(Y/n), want me to introduce you?" he murmurs, patting your back.

You shake your head, and instead hide yourself behind him.

"Sorry, folks, my kid is a bit shy right now," Vincent laughs. "How bout we save introductions for later when they're in a better mood?"

The people shrug and agree, seeming content with that answer.

So that's how things continue. Vincent occasionally lets go of your hand to perform a handshake with somebody new, or wrap an arm around your shoulders, but never once truly leaves your side.

Occasionally, he offers to grab you food and drinks, making sure to only feed you things he knows are safe. Knowing the crowd here, for once you don't blame him for being extra vigilant.

A lot of small talk goes on. You zone out a bit as you hear talks about trade deals, weapons manufacturing, smuggling operations, assassinations... The typical mob business. You already know most of the details thanks to Vincent's constant chatter anyways.

Once it seems like the two of you have met every single person attending, he brings you to a quieter part of the gala, where they seem to have an open bar.

A couple people are milling around the area. A few seated on barstools and chatting with bartenders, others standing nearby watching. Vincent guides you to one of the seats, helping you onto the stool before sitting next to you.

"Want some juice, kiddo? We've got lemonade, grape juice, orange juice..." Vincent says. "I personally get a root beer float most of the time."

"Don't you drink?" you ask. Now that you think about it, you've never seen him drink in your presence.

"Not as often anymore. Not when I got someone young and innocent depending on me! Gotta be sober to watch you properly," Vincent says. "Besides, I'd never live it down if I became a bad influence for you."

You almost laugh. Funny he out of all people is saying that. "I guess I'll have what you're having, then."

Vincent grins and flags down one of the nearby servers.

"What can I get you, Mr. Brewer?"

"Two root beer floats for us, please."

She nods and rushes away.

While waiting, the two of you idly chat and watch everyone else. You notice a tall man with short brown hair and brown eyes approach, eyes fixed on Vincent. Something about his wide smile throws you off. He looks friendly, yes, but also a bit too enthusiastic, even more so than others who met you earlier.

He seems different than the other people here, and not in a good way.

"Hey, Boss," the man greets. His voice is slightly on the higher-pitched side. "Haven't seen you since your trip to Budapest. I heard you adopted a kid." He smiles at you.

"Yep," Vincent confirms, though he sounds a bit annoyed. "If you attended more meetings, that wouldn't have become a problem. Phoenix tried to contact you several times, we all thought you were dead."

The guy scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Sorry... Things got busy on my end..."

Vincent looks angry, but holds himself back from yelling. For your sake, that much is obvious. You see his fingers twitching subtly. "You should make an effort to stay available whenever possible. You have a job, Sullivan. This isn't some side-gig you can just show up to when you want. If your uncle weren't contributing so much to Cryo, you'd be out of here in a heartbeat. I can still make that happen."

Sullivan sighs. "Yeah. I'll try to do better next time. Sorry again, really." He sits next to Vincent, eyeing both of your root beer floats, both in fancy wine glasses. "So, uh, (Y/n), was it? Nice to meet you."

"Yeah... nice to meet you too," you say politely, sipping your drink.

Vincent's eye twitches. He shifts his chair so it's angled closer to you protectively. Almost like a shield separating you and Sullivan apart. "Is there something else you needed?" Vincent questions, clearly getting impatient. He puts his drink down, right next to yours.

"Nah, just wanted to see you and apologize for being such trouble recently." Sullivan wedges himself between you two, arms outstretched on both of your shoulders, and both of you looking at him in confusion. Vincent's confused look turns into a sour one. "What? Just wanted to be affectionate, sorry. You're awfully grumpy today."

"Are you drunk?" Vincent sneers.

"Just a little!" Sullivan snorts and pulls away.

You're a little fearful for the guy's life, judging by the way Vincent is staring him down. You grab your drink and take a sip from it, not noticing Sullivan's brief look of panic.

"Uh, well, gotta go! I'm sure Trent's gonna wanna catch up with me," Sullivan nervously says, walking away quicker than Vincent has ever seen him go.

The blond only scoffs. "If I see him again tonight, I'll shoot him in the head myself," he grumbles.

"What happened to wanting to be a good influence?" you laugh.

Vincent flicks your nose. "Hey, if someone were bothering you who you wanted to shoot, I'd fully support it. I think the world would be a much better place if we got rid of all the people who were bothering my beloved kiddo." He ruffles your hair. "And hey, did you take my root beer float? Mine had the purple straw! Brat." His tone is playful, of course.

You pull back to look at the nearly fully-consumed drink, seeing the green straw. "Oops, must've mixed 'em up... too late, it's mine now."

He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "My kiddo... so mean. But it's fine, because yours had more in it, anyway! So ha-ha." As if proving a point, he begins loudly slurping yours. You laugh at the silliness. If only everyone knew that Vincent was a fool.

"That guy was kind of weird," you murmur, changing the subject onto Sullivan. "Have you known him for long?"

"Unfortunately," Vincent mutters. "Ever since his uncle joined Cryo, he felt entitled enough to get a job from us. Honestly, I'd much rather fire him, but since he's family with a high ranking member, I'd rather not cause any unnecessary conflict. Don't really trust him, though."

"Sounds like you really hate him," you chuckle.

"Me? Hate someone? Pfft, never. I'm a saint." Vincent nudges your shoulder with his own. "Yeah, I'm kidding. I kinda hate him. And I especially hate anyone who makes you uncomfortable, which I can tell he was doing. If not for his uncle..." He doesn't need to finish that sentence.

You finish your root beer float, and put the empty glass to the side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders while he pulls out his phone.

You see it's Quinn, and that he's telling her to keep an eye on him. You continue reading what he's texting, but then it gets harder to, the words growing blurrier and blurrier.

That's when you realize everything is getting blurry. Even the man next to you.

"Dad," you mutter. Your tongue feels like lead.

"Not now. Give Dad one sec." He keeps typing on his phone.

"Dad." More urgently.

"Be patient, kiddo. Quinn can barely type properly as is."

"I feel really bad," you rasp. "Dizzy."

Vincent looks up from his phone quickly. "(Y/n)?" His eyes widen as he sees your pained expression and sweat dripping down your face.

He drops his phone immediately as he catches you right before you fall off the stool. He runs a hand across your forehead. "(Y/n)? Hey, baby, shh, calm down. What hurts?" Panic seeps through his tone, yanking off one of his gloves with his teeth to feel your pulse, putting two fingers to your neck. Its rapid-fire.

"E-everything," you whimper. It's hard to even form words anymore. Your vision is getting darker and darker, and you can no longer breathe.

You begin to cough, holding onto his shirt for comfort as you feel the edges of your conscious slipping. Your throat feels blocked up. Every attempt to speak results in a strained wheeze and a coughing fit.

Vincent lets out a rare, strangled noise. The fear of losing you is the one thing keeping him grounded.

He lifts you up easily, bridal-style, into his arms, resting your head against his chest. He maneuvers past the crowds, calling for someone to get a stretcher for you.

You can't tell what he's saying anymore, only that he's yelling. Is he mad? Upset?

Or terrified, maybe. Maybe that's why his voice is shaky and cracked.

"Baby, come on, just breathe for Dad, alright? Just focus on my voice, sweetie," he begs, rubbing circles in your chest, as if he can coax air into your lungs. "Breathe with me. Please."

Your breath stutters and comes out shallowly. There's nothing you can do.

No way to obey him. You can't breathe. Why can't you breathe? You're trying so hard, just like he asked you to, but it's like your lungs refuse to expand, refusing to cooperate.

Vincent tries his best to coach you into breathing right, talking in soothing tones and soft coos, encouraging you to calm down and copy him.

Even if everything didn't sound muffled, you couldn't understand him anyway from the way he's speaking, on the verge of hyperventilating. He's trying so hard to act okay for you.

Everything starts to become dim. Blackness creeps into the corners of your vision, slowly overtaking your sight entirely. No matter how hard you struggle, fighting to stay awake and alive, your body gives into the poison and shuts down, leaving you limp in his arms.

The last thing you hear before darkness consumes your consciousness is Vincent screaming louder than you've ever heard him before.

...

Vincent paces back and forth as he waits in the hospital hallway outside of the ER.

"Vincent," Trenton greets sympathetically. It's rare he ever refers to his boss with his first name, but it's not something Vincent minds usually, especially not now. His mind is too preoccupied. "We found the perpetrator—"

"Sullivan," Vincent snarls, finishing for him. "I already figured."

"R-right," Trenton sighs. "We caught him attempting to run. He was already prepared for flight. Uh, it seems like the strychnine was meant for you, but either mixed them up or you got your drinks mixed up."

Vincent nods. "That damn traitor... you have him in custody, right?" Trenton nods. "Good. Keep him alive. I want to kill him myself."

"Understood. Do you want us to torture him first?" Trent asks. He's usually not this brutal, but he loves you like a sibling, after all.

"No. I'm saving that pleasure for myself." The door opens and a doctor steps out. Vincent's most trusted doctor, Dr. Fredericks. "(Y/n)! Let me see them now!" He doesn't even bother asking if you're alive; he simply refuses to even consider that outcome. That's the only thing that's been stopping him from absolutely losing it.

"Okay, but they're very much out of it," she tells him, leading him down the hallway into your room.

She's right.

You're on a hospital bed with the covers pulled over your chest. An oxygen mask is secured over your mouth and nose, and several monitors hooked to various machines beep quietly, tracking your vitals. There's an IV drip attached to your wrist.

As promised, you are awake, but clearly unable to do anything beyond that. Your eyes are drooping and you're blinking slowly, struggling to stay alert.

"(Y/n)," Vincent breathes, rushing over and grabbing your hand. He crouches beside the bed so that he's level with you. "Sweetie? Can you hear me?" He kisses your temple gently. He brushes your hair away from your forehead, pressing his cheek against yours.

You try to move your hand weakly towards his voice.

The blond nods quickly. "Hi, baby. Yeah, its Dad. I'm here. Everything is gonna be okay now." He presses kisses all over your face—anywhere he can reach without disturbing the oxygen mask.

"Poisoned," you manage to rasp.

"I know, lovebug. But it'll be okay." Tears threaten to spill down Vincent's cheeks.

"Scary," you say next.

"I know," Vincent whispers again, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching closely enough. Shouldn't have let him anywhere near us. I won't make that same mistake again, I promise." Not after he turns that bastard to dust. Slowly.

"Not y'r fault," you slur.

"It is. I should've protected you. That's my job, sweetie." He kisses your hand repeatedly. "Don't speak anymore, okay? I just want you to rest. At least until this comes off." He taps the clear oxygen mask. "And then we'll talk aaaall you want. Doesn't that sound nice?"

You shift positions as much as the wires will allow, and you pat the small space on the mattress, motioning for him to join you.

He chuckles and shakes his head fondly. "Aww, buddy. I don't wanna crush you."

When you continue to persistently slap the bed sheets, he finally concedes. He slips his shoes off and climbs onto the bed with you, helping you lay on top of his chest.

He makes sure all wires are in place as they were moments ago. "Comfy?" You hum in confirmation. Vincent plays with your hair. "Get some sleep, honey. Dad's not going anywhere."

Your eyelids flutter shut as you listen to the sound of his steady heartbeat, grounding you and lulling you to a peaceful, safe sleep.

Normally Vincent would be awake, hyper-vigilant as ever, but the exhaustion from running around in a frenzy and pure terror takes its toll on him too. His eyes close and sleep follows soon after.

#answered ask #parental yandere #platonic yandere #familial yandere #vincent oc #tw near death #tw attempted murder #yandere

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eliomwah · 2 days ago

Text

Nothing || Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Spencer being cuties and spend time together after work.

Word Count: 1.9k

Note: Inspired from "Nothing" by Bruno Major

----- <3 -----

Yet another shoot week and Y/N is exhausted. She had already spent one week filming, and they have a whole other week ahead of them. They slump down at their desk, barely awake, sipping a Monster, when Spencer walked up to their desk.

“Hey, you look great.” He leans against their desk. Sarcasm was Spencer and Y/N’s normal form of communication but, because Y/N was tired, she just look up at him for a second.

“Thanks. I love shoots weeks,” She rolls her eyes. “I definitely don’t feel like I’m on deaths door.”

“You’ll do great today! Once you get into it, you’ll remember why you love this job.”

“Or once the caffeine kicks in.” They take another sip of the energy drink.

“I can’t believe you can drink that,” he says with disdain, a hint of his gentlemen's accent peeking through. “I only grace my body with the purest forms of fuel.”

“Mountain Dew Kickstart isn’t pure, Spence.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I won’t argue with you because I can tell you’ve completely lost your mind.”

"Spencer, I drink this every day. You know this.”

“I CAN’T believe this” He shouts, now fully in a proper British accent, dramatically stands up and walks away before Y/N could say anymore. She rolled her eyes again and laughed. Spencer always finds a way to make her feel better. As she were preparing for the TNTL they were filming this morning, she got a text from Spencer.

Spence: Wanna come over after work?

Y/N: Only if we watch the Notebook

Spence: Again??

Y/N: YES Y/N: IT’S MY FAVE

Spence: okaaaayyyy

Y/N: YAY

For the rest of the day, all she could think about was going to Spencer’s apartment after work. This wasn’t unusual for the two of them; they have spent many nights playing video games and watching movies together. But the thought of spending time with Spencer lingered in the back of her mind. When they rapped for the day, Y/N went to find Spencer. He was sitting at his desk, finishing up the final touches on a video for the Games channel.

“Hey, ready to go?” Y/N leans on his desk.

“Yeah, let’s pick up a pizza on the way.” Spencer packs up his things and they head to his car. As the drive they debrief their days, recalling when Ian said some crazy thing to Spencer during a meeting or Angela’s newest character during TNTL. Y/N couldn’t help but feel comfortable. Her and Spencer had been friends for as long as she could remember but recently things have started to feel different. She had been noticing all the little things Spencer does for them, always checking in on them and bringing them a monster (even though it came was dirty looks). Y/N always felt seen by Spencer. Even sitting in the car, talking about work, she felt like he wanted to hear her funny stories. Even if he was there for half of them.

As they arrived at his house, Y/N immediately went to put on the movie as Spencer grabbed plates from his kitchen. Spencer offers them a pair of his pjs (so they wouldn’t be stuck in their work clothes, right?) and settled down on his couch. As the movie progressed, they move closer and closer together. Y/N becomes aware of this when Spencer stretches his arm around her. She freezes for a moment, glancing over at his hand resting on their shoulder. She hoped he wasn’t looking or he would see her blushing, hard. Y/N looked back to the movie, slowly relaxing into him. She leaned her head onto his shoulder. If anyone were to see them, they would assume they had been dating. And maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

As the movie was coming to an end, Y/N was still leaning on Spencer, his arm still around her. She started to tear up and she looked over at Spencer, who had tears streaming down his face.

“Awe Spence! We watch this movie all the time. It still makes you cry?”

“They have such a beautiful love.” He says. She gave him a sympathetic smile as he wiped his eyes. “This is a horrible movie.”

“You say that every time.” Y/N replied softly. She loved seeing this soft side of him.

After the movie, Spencer and Y/N continue to talk about everything and nothing. Neither of them wanted to leave their spot on the couch. They had spent many nights like this, talking for way too long while sitting way too close. But tonight felt different, there was something in the air. Under the friendly eyerolls and sarcastic tones there was a sense of longing, at least for Y/N. She hadn’t been in a serious relationship before and she hadn't wanted one until this moment. The way Spencer’s eye light up when he talked about his favorite video games or how he looked at her while she was ranting about her most recent hobby made Y/N’s stomach flutter. Sitting there, looking up at him while he went on about the next tattoo, she knew she wanted to be with him. It was if she hadn’t seen Spencer before, not truly at least. How could she not have seen it? Now all she could think about was Spencer's hair, eyes, glasses, smile, EVERYTHING. She wished she could stare at him for the rest of eternity.

Eventually, Y/N left and drove home. The whole drive all they could think about was him.

----- <3 -----

Later that week, they planned another hangout. This time at Y/N’s apartment, where she had planned a surprise for Spencer. She was going to cook Spencer his favorite meal. She rushed home right after the last video of the day, starting to prep all the ingredients. Y/N was quite the cook but not many people knew that. Cooking helped her feel calm. Following recipes and methodically cutting vegetables was a great de-stresser after a long day at work. She also loved making food for the people she loved. She, on multiple occasions, had Amanda and Angala over for a wine night and made elaborate meals for them to share. Making food was a love language as far as Y/N was concerned.

While Y/N was almost finished with the meal, Spencer sent her a text.

Spence: Here!

Y/N: Let yourself in!

Y/N: It should be unlocked

Spencer walks into the apartment, greeted with the smell of his favorite foods.

“What do we have here?” He asks, walking in the kitchen

“Just some food,” Y/N giggles “Do you want some?”

“Do I want some?” Spencer asked rhetorically. “Of course I want some. How did you know this was my favorite?”

“I have my ways.” Y/N smiles. Spencer leans over Y/N shoulder and wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. She freezes for a moment, unsure of what to do. Nothing like this has ever happened to her before. She just knew Spencer had the widest smile on his face from how flustered he'd made her.

“Well,” Y/N spat out after a long moment of silence. She turns around to face him, his hands still on her hips. She places her hands around his neck. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you have a little crush on me, Spencer Agnew.”

“And what would make you say that Y/N Y/LN?” He gave her the look. She smiled and broke way to get dishes for the food.

“I’m not sure. Just have a feeling.” She says as she dishes up the food. Spencer laughs and takes a plate from her. Over dinner, they share more flirty banter. Spencer never failed to make Y/N laugh with his stories. She couldn’t help but notice how great his hair looked that day. When Spencer got up to put his plate in the dishwasher, he grabbed Y/N’s and kissed her on the top of the head. Her eyes followed him as he walked into the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to tell Courtney about this tomorrow at work.

They moved to the living room and started a game of Mario Kart. As two very competitive people, they knew this was going to be a war. At one point, the two of them were standing yelling at the screen, hoping to mess the other person up. They would mess with the others controller or shove each other with their shoulders. It was ruthless. Y/N always seemed to win though. What she didn’t know was how much Spencer was looking over at her. She was so engrossed in the game she didn’t notice his eyes lingering on her. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. He would be in the lead then he would glance over and see Y/N leaning into the TV, eyes laser focused on Princess Peach, biting her bottom lip. He would forget about the game just long enough for you to take first place. Spencer couldn’t complain much, he loves how Y/N cheers when she wins.

As Spencer drove home, he couldn’t help but wonder if Y/N knew. She had been acting differently since the last time they hung out. She would stare and she blushed a lot more than normal. He had had a crush on her since she started at Smosh. All he wanted to do was ask her out, but he was so scared she would say no. He had been flirting more then usual, hope she would give him a sign as to how she felt.

----- <3 -----

Finally, the week was over. The cast and crew had a tradition of going to a bar on the Friday of a film week. As usual, Spencer declined the invitation. Bars weren’t really his thing. He doesn’t have a problem with going to a bar, he wasn’t much of a drinker and wanted to unwind after a busy week in a different way. When Y/N heard he wasn’t going, she didn’t want to go either. She had wanted to spend her night drinking a glass of wine and talking with him and their other co-workers. Y/N knew this wasn’t out of the ordinary but really didn’t feel like going out anymore.

“Hey, I heard you're not going out after work?” Y/N says as she approaches Spencer’s desk.

“Yeah, don’t really feel like hanging out in a loud environment.” Spencer spins around in his chair to face her. “Plus, bars are more fun when you're drinking.”

“That’s fair.” Y/N leans against his desk. “What are you going to do instead?”

“Nothing much. I was thinking about starting Stardew Valley. I’ve been meaning to try it for some time now. Probably order some food as well.”

“Mind if I join?” Y/N asks. “You’ll need someone to help you figure everything out. And some call me an expert.”

“Oh, do they now?” Spencer laughs. “I would love for you to help me, but I don’t want to stop you from going out. You deserve to celebrate a successful week with your friends. I don’t want you to miss out.”

“Spence, I won’t miss out. Ang and Amanda will be more than happy to fill me in on what I miss.” Y/N laughs lightly. She then leans closer to Spencer. “Besides, there’s nothing like doing nothing with you.”

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew/reader #angela giarratana #amanda lehan canto #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh spencer #ian hecox #courtney miller

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bradleysass · 1 day ago

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point - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 414

James Potter had a lot of great ideas. Most of them were fun. Some of them were borderline reckless. A handful of them were absolute financial disasters waiting to happen.

Like the one he was proposing right now.

"James," Regulus began, voice carefully measured as he stared at his boyfriend sprawled across their couch, legs kicked over the armrest, an open laptop resting on his stomach. "We can't afford this."

James groaned theatrically, flopping one arm over his face. "You haven't even let me finish."

"Oh, I let you finish," Regulus said dryly, scrolling through their shared bank account on his phone. "You want to rent out an entire rooftop bar for your birthday."

"Not just any rooftop bar—"

"The one that costs more than our rent."

James had the decency to wince but powered through anyway. "I mean, yeah, but think about it, Reggie. City skyline. Good music. Everyone dressed up real nice. Me, standing in the center of it all, basking in the love and appreciation of my friends—"

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. "James. We can't even afford a full grocery trip right now without using coupons."

"Okay, you do make a point there," James admitted, closing his laptop. "But what's a birthday without a little extravagance?"

"A financially responsible day?" Regulus suggested, unimpressed. "You know, the kind where we don't drain our entire savings and then have to live off instant ramen for the rest of the month."

James groaned again, dramatically rolling off the couch and onto the floor. "So what do you suggest then? A quiet night in? Just us and some sad cake?"

Regulus pursed his lips, considering. "I was thinking we could do something at home. We can invite people over, make some food, play music—"

"Lame."

"Affordable."

James sighed, tilting his head back against the carpet. "Alright, fine. But only if you promise there’ll still be a cake. A real cake."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I’ll even bake it myself."

That got James to perk up. "You baking? Now that's a rare treat. Alright, I’ll take it. But I want those ridiculous candles that make it impossible to blow out."

Regulus smirked. "Done."

James grinned, reaching for Regulus' hand and tugging him down onto the floor beside him. "You know, for someone who's constantly shooting down my plans, you always end up making them better."

Regulus huffed, pressing his palm against James' face to push him away. "That’s because your plans are ridiculous."

#marauders #jeggyverse microfic #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #microfic

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vesperaominosum · 1 day ago

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Second Reason

@purplerosebouquet asked:

"Heyy! Could you do a res4 Leon x fem reader fic where reader is his colleague/ fellow agent who has a situationship w Leon but he’s getting hung up on Ada and reader is jealous? Maybe even confronting him about it? Lots of angst but good ending 😭"

Summary : You escape burnout by turning your life around and becoming a government agent. Old mistakes haunt you and you find it difficult to replace old problems with the new, especially when you find yourself in a situationship. Pairing : RE4 Leon! × Fem Reader Tags : Angst, angst, ANGST, unreliable narrator, unethical therapy mention, hurt/comfort, slight smut, moderate strong language, slow burn (for a one shot) jealousy, open ending perhaps, reader is not okay and grew up watching cop drama. Word count: 10k A/N: I did NOT proofread it as well as I should've. It starts off as a hard read. but gets better eventually.

You always held pride in your emotional intelligence. It wasn’t superficial, you had a degree in psychology after all, so you knew it to be true. Managed to practice as a therapist for few months before taking time to reflect and turning your life around. It was quite a big stretch to jump from your ideas of becoming a therapist, leaving your straight A student persona behind, ditching those PhD dreams and leaping into a cycle of never-ending physical trainings, on your way to become a government agent. It was a shock to everybody in your life, but to you it wasn’t. Not in any way.

There were two reasons.

First, you mapped up the time, glued up a dream board and realized that it would take you years to finish your academic journey before you could actually do what you intended to. You also realized that watching a lot of daytime TV did you a disservice and planted an unrealistic idea in your head. You wanted to seek our murderers using your knowledge of the human nature. Help the police track the bad guys, interrogate them, wear expensive suits and even go out in the field wearing bulletproof vests with a real gun.

After years in university, this concept revealed itself as unattainable. It would take you decades to even get on a level where your expertise would be sufficient to write a decent report that could be used in court. And no one would ever let you go after criminals with a gun. And what was it about it that drew you in? What were you planning to do exactly in this scenario other than looking good and feeling badass? In case they actually hire you for that job, as a profiler (which would take additional years and expertise), you’d be too old to be physically fit enough for any of the badass visions. And when it came to those visions, you’d have to be too visually old to be taken seriously as a woman in the field anyway. At least some grey hair and wrinkles to get any respect from the men who stepped anywhere near military. It was not at all what you wanted.

Second reason was a bit more personal and way more grounded in reality. You didn’t like to think about it, but you had to be honest with yourself. Sometimes you wished you were a little bit less honest, just in your head. You wanted to sugarcoat things, and ignore problems and patterns, but you couldn’t. Admitting that you wish you could cloud your mind was too, a testament of seeing things clearly. You assessed the situation you got yourself into, and left. You didn’t like thinking about the second reason, it was a little too private, even for your own thoughts.

The third reason, that wasn’t mentioned, was the one you kept repeating to others. It wasn’t mentioned, because it wasn’t entirely true. After all, you couldn’t lie to yourself, but lying to others was easier. You told everyone that therapy was stressful and not at all physically demanding. You got into university with a scholarship because you were an athlete in school and the prospect of growing stiff sitting around and stressing wasn’t alluring. Stress needed a way out. You needed an active job. That was true, you knew it better than most and had a degree to back it up.

Training for becoming a government agent wasn’t easy. You did your best and still couldn’t get in the first year. Nevertheless, you weren’t known for the lack of determination, and soon enough you were an agent. Your dreams of wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a gun were close enough to grab, if it wasn’t for all the paperwork you were hired to handle.

Didn't take long before you found out they only decided to accept you because of your degree, which to them made you a perfect candidate to process large amounts of information fast and make important connections. Heading straight into severe burnout, you nagged your way into a mission once, where you successfully managed to enter the building without drawing too much attention, and this success turned everyone’s eyes to you, becoming your golden ticket into the world of real missions, where the stakes were high, adrenaline was rushing and your actions actually mattered.

It was your dream life, bulletproof vest, a gun, you signed commands to your teammates, had a codename “Dove” (that you chose yourself) and for the first time in your life you felt in the right place doing the right thing. Your family and friends did not agree.

Every time you got back home, people would ask whether you found yourself a husband, implying that you only got into the field because “that’s where the real men are” since you must've gotten tired of those whiny boys you met in therapy and uni. You were perfectly aware that they tried to devalue your achievements and it made you want to never ever settle down out of spite, which wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. Poor coworkers that were bold enough to try their luck asking you out - got rejected, before you even thought of it. The idea of your family ending up thinking they were right all along and smirking about it for the rest of their lives made you sick. You were emotionally intelligent, yes. It didn’t mean that you were suddenly a robot and their toxicity didn’t get to you. Understanding and admitting this issue was a part of it, keeping it in mind was enough. Besides, it’s sensible to know better than confusing professional with personal.

You had it all figured out at first, the work/life balance thing. While most people in the filed allowed themselves to lack focus, only wishing to go back to their families, or on the contrary, spent all their time working as a distraction from not having any personal life or hobbies - you managed to be right in the middle. Hobbies, friends, self-care, education. At first.

Your optimistic desire to learn and improve yourself led to you taking on all the available courses that work managed to provide, which in turn led to you dealing with things mostly outside of your grade of training. Every time they were short on agents, you came in to help. Never alone, you were still too inexperienced and a woman. Nobody wanted to be responsible for writing you off dead. Even though your work was impressive, sending a young girl on a mission which resulted in her death cold not possibly look good on paper.

You disliked working with most agents. They happened to be arrogant, bad at commutation and for some reason always acted insulted that you were given the same task. It was never about teamwork to them. One of the agents once greeted you with a “Seems like I’m going to be your babysitter for this mission”. You knew better than to bite back, you never spared them the reaction they wanted to get out of you. Always friendly.

It took a toll on your mental health, but it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was them being nice, making you finally feel accomplished, just to badmouth you behind your back afterwards.

Laugh about you being a burden and whatnot. You knew they just tried to keep up their image, to appear tough to other guys and to make sure everyone knew that they did not take you seriously, so their little crush wouldn't be that apparent. You also knew that everybody knew that, so it wasn’t getting under your skin most days.

Some nights it felt too unfair to ignore, so you imagined telling them off and commanding respect, like the women in those daytime shows you loved to watch as a kid. But every morning you felt too professional and too grounded in reality to pay it any mind. Maybe too small, but it was a secret you kept, unable to grant yourself at least a little courtesy, at least a little white lie, a lie by omission. Some silence that would protect you from self-doubt. Had to be cruel.

That nagging and flattery bothered you up until the moment you got paired with the moodiest agent. It was a brief time, a small task to help him out on a mission, getting into the building pretending to be barista and retrieving a package with intentions to pass it on to him. Got caught in a little bit of a cross fire and ended up helping out beyond your instructions.

He was famous for extreme cases and a cool attitude so you prepared for the worst. To your surprise, he happened to be extremely easy to deal with. A bit cold and he made a weird joke once that almost didn’t seem like a joke coming from him (or at best, for sure didn’t land). You hated that it didn’t go according to plan and prepared to hear all about how you were trusted with something delicate and created problems (even though it wasn’t your fault, it rarely was), but when you learned of his reports praising you for having potential and a fast reaction, you started seeing him in a different light.

Leon Scott Kennedy kind of proved to you wrong just when you started to think you were doomed to drown in self-deprecation before finally quitting. Your higher ups mentioned him giving you positive feedback and you didn’t waste time telling them that you found working with Agent Kennedy productive. He didn’t need your praise, so you praised your synergy. In all the best and seamless ways you knew how to, in order to manipulate them to pair you together more.

Your skills did not disappoint, soon enough you were working together every other mission. You were cautious not to seem annoying, but he had a way to make you feel at ease. He’d smile when you saw each other. He wasn’t a talker, but you didn’t feel any pressure. You were comfortable with his professionalism, it made you feel understood and respected.

After some time working, you were happy to return the favor, tolerated (a fair share of) his weird sense of humor. He’d alert your walkie-talkie with a stern “Dove.” and when you answered, he’d say “Flying high today?”

Made you roll your eyes every time. And finally, you were the one who got to feel annoyed, instead of feeling like you annoyed others.

He appreciated your attitude, sometimes he’d call you up to the shooting range at the base and helped you adjust your aim dealing with a bigger recoil than you were used to.

Maybe it was when he put his strong arms on yours, standing so close behind you without the gear being there to block his body heat from warming your back.

Maybe it was when he asked you if were okay at the end of the day. Maybe it was when he protected you from danger as his first priority every mission. Maybe it was when he trusted you with his life. Maybe it was when he wrapped up the mission before completing the task, because he didn’t want to risk you loosing too much blood due to your injury that one time.

Maybe it was when he texted you later. Lying in your hospital bed, you read “Dove. How’s the flight?”, how it made all the pain irrelevant. How you never answered because you suddenly didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but did everything in your power to hop back to your feet and get back to work. Maybe it was the shift in the energy that you felt once you saw him again, maybe it was the way you noticed how attractive his attitude was (when it was directed at everyone else but you). But you noticed that he certainly had an effect on you.

It was him who was the first to tell you that you’d have to stay put for a while, no feet on the ground, just “remote work”, as he kindly put it.

“Found a way to get rid of me?” - you joked before letting the sadness seep from your tensed up eyebrows straight into your eyes. He noticed and reassured you it’s temporary. And for the better. “If you say so.” was all he got. You were agreeable and there was nothing to discuss really. It was the first time he made you feel hurt. It wasn’t his fault, and you knew it, you were very mature after all. Emotional intelligence. But you still wanted to test if he’d feel bad about it and judging by the sigh that he let out, it worked. Smirk on your face as you walked away.

Same smirk curled up your lips when he came by the headquarters to ask how you’re doing, seeing you in hoodie with your hair down, talking to an intern, a young nerdy guy who was explaining something you pretended to care about.

“Getting comfortable?” – he asked, you weren’t sure if he was referring to your friendliness with an intern or your blunt dress code violations. Truth be told, you knew he was entering the base and let your hair down intentionally.

“Yeah…” – you put a hand through your hair, - “Keep getting headaches staring at the screen for hours and all..., hair ties do not help”.

You noticed his gaze lingering, - “Can’t catch a break, can you?” – he joked.

“Well, if everyone writing me off counts as a break, it’s all I’ve been catching.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” – he rolled his eyes, before looking at the intern, the guy's name was Nail, Neville, Niall something like that. Niall pretended to work behind you, and Leon lowered his voice, softened even, - “you know it’s not like that.”

“I know, I’m just making sure you know I don’t like it.” – you lowered your voice to match his, - “However it is.”

“Came here to make sure of that.” – there was a hint of a smile in his voice as he leaned closer to say that, before pulling away, - “Planned on disrupting your little holiday soon.”

Your eyes sparked, - “You did?”

“Can’t afford all my mentoring go to waste because of one stab wound. Ridiculous.”

“Your mentoring?” – you laughed, watching his relaxed smile for the first time, you liked that smile, - “Sure, that would be criminal.”

Getting back to work was easy, you never really needed that much time off anyway. You’d consider it a waste of time, if it wasn’t for a conformation that Leon cared about you in some way. You got bolder equipped with that knowledge.

Things generally shifted a little. His usual teasing turned into “Dove. Flying high? Both wings intact?”, he switched to a more hands-on approach, moving you around and grabbing your arms to stall you more than usual. He got more comfortable. It was like after your first big injury he got his conformation that you can handle harm and stopped acting like he was responsible for your every step, even though he never was.

Things got more easy until they got more complicated. When adrenaline got the best of you after speed climbing an abandoned military base wall to get away from landmines that were about to be triggered by a fallen satellite tower. Both heaving, lying on the floor, ecstatic that you made it.

Leon crawled his way to you, putting his hand to your side, where you were stabbed (three months ago by now), - “You okay?” - he put his hand on your forehead and brushed his knuckles over your temples, like it will give him any indication.

You sat up slightly. “Yeah…” - grabbing onto his forearm to get up, but getting lost in the vision instead. You both were high on the rush, him almost on top of you, sweat covering your faces, breathing deeply, it was only natural to put your hand on his shoulder and letting him kiss you. Kissing him back. Falling back on the floor, hearing him grunt into your lips as he fell onto you, putting your hand into his hair, pressing him closer, deepening the kiss. You made it out alive. You were so alive.

“Fuck,” – he breathed out between kisses, - “we got to go back”, - he kissed you deeper, as he let his hand grab your chest, moving it to your back, possessively, lifting you up, closer.

You held onto his arm, as if ordering it to stay there. Ordering, begging, approving… Nodding, - “yeah,” – and kissing him back. You both knew this moment might be the only one to steal. It was all there. It was all there was.

But you managed to pull away, the spell was broken and it turned into tension. And you got back without any distractions. Silent on the helicopter, both solemn in your own throughs.

Both planning on how to go about this incident, both trying to keep it professional, without ruining your partnership. Both failing as your off-duty talk turned into you kissing him against the wall of your on-base apartment, his knee between your legs, your hands under his shirt.

The story was: you both had the same monologue prepared, your ideals, sense of professionalism and morals aligned. And since it all aligned anyway, why does it matter?

You were great when it came to team work, you trusted him with your all and he met you in every way possible, every kiss, every thrust, every bite, he even came through with it every time all you needed to cum was to hear him moan.

You managed to keep it professional outside of the bedroom (or any room really where no one could see). It worked. You were too busy for proper relationships, you knew how to make each other feel good, you cared about each other, and you both wanted it. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

But you were a bad liar when it came to facing yourself. You knew damn well that you didn’t want any other proper relationships. You also didn’t want to change how things were, you did not put everything at stake for this career to throw it away on some good dick. Some good dick. Nice shoulders. And strong hands, that held you up, like they designed you and were making sure it stayed in place. Big legs and steady hips, that felt just right every time you came down on them. Firm lips, that took what they wanted. Soft voice that was sharpened with a rasp, always asking if you’re all right, if it’s okay, if you like it, if you’re close. Never had to ask, in his mind he always knew. His mind, always busy. Baby blue eyes, attentive, detached, sad. Ghosts, so many ghosts.

You wanted to take it away, you could. You saw past his exterior, you wanted to repair it, whatever it was. Your past mistakes coming back to the surface. Your second reason. Never could keep any boundaries. Drawn to all the broken things, too invested. You made a bad therapist, an even worse agent as it turned out.

But it was different with Leon, he was on the same page. There was no disbalance, no uncomfortable power dynamic, besides that in the bedroom, where he could easily overpower, holding you down, as you shake, as you pull his hair; him not letting you come down from your high before forcing another round of bliss onto your overstimulated body. No, outside of all that, there was no disbalance. You were on the same page. You were both okay. You were equal. It was better, he wasn’t your client, you didn’t have to feel bad.

You could care about him and it didn’t mean going back to destructive patterns. And it’s only natural for a person to care about another. You weren’t his therapist. You weren’t even his friend. You were just two people who understood what they..., were to each other and who were on the same page. Whatever that page was. He wasn’t letting you down this road alone. He had you. Whatever it meant.

It was special. And you felt like it was all worth it. It was scary to let your mind wonder to places he occupied, but soon enough you had trouble finding any space he didn’t. He was everywhere, like a new puzzle you tried to put together. What shaped him into this man you wanted to disappear into? What weights him down? What was he like as a child? What’s on his mind when you’re not together? What are the missing pieces? What pieces needed mending?

It was not your intention to let yourself get so wrapped up, but it was hard not to when he wrapped your legs around his shoulders, riling up the tug in your stomach with his tongue until your mind went white. So so wrapped up. Messed up. His hair, your body, your thighs, your thoughts.

You cut down on joint missions, couldn’t risk it. Seeing him in action distracted you, it wasn’t safe. He understood. It was hard seeing you in gear. It was really hard.

When you finally learned how to behave, you happened to work together more, couldn’t risk growing too far apart. Had to keep your hands to yourself, your thoughts focused on the task. Despite betting your all on these changes helping you to prioritize your career, you found yourself more ready than ever to throw it all away. Head first into his embrace, you didn’t care about your family gloating about being right, about proving it to yourself that you’re unable to keep anything professional enough. Despite every wall you’ve built. He made it seem worth it. Inviting. Safe. And if you were on the same page…, Were you on the same page? He had to be.

Where was he?

Those thoughts were doomed to be pruned before blooming because you couldn’t let the reality slip away. You had a dangerous job, even if you leave to make it more acceptable for you to be together, he won’t. And you can’t trust yourself to be okay with him putting himself at risk with no means to help out or at least to know what’s going on.

And you couldn’t forget that the only reason you happened to fall into this was out of convenience. Maybe not the only reason, but the main reason. One of the main reasons.

You were sensible, but in your head, you were retired in a house near some sea, lying on a blanket on some beach, reminiscing the old days with a smile with Leon next to you. For now, your goal was to collect as many memories as you could, make sure you have plenty to look back at. He’d be hot with grey hair. He’d kiss your temple and there’d be no ghosts in his eyes by then. You could see it so clearly. You’d love it all down. It would be perfect.

The day you wrapped up another mission (a big round number for you) you started planning the celebration. It was how it was done here. Had to plan ahead, but was way too busy daydreaming.

You knew it would be risky to have other agents, you and Leon at the same table. Add alcohol into picture, and the risk is high. But not inviting a person you owe at least half of the number you’re celebrating to, would be even more suspicious.

Little did you know, the reason why it was the worst idea ever never even crossed mind. The topic of you two wasn’t brough up until most of the guests left, the bar was almost empty, it just you and some of the agents who knew Leon “forever”, to quote them.

“So, Leon keeps snatching up all the ladies?” – came from one of them.

You had no idea if they knew anything or simply insinuated, so you looked taken aback. That’s when the guy added, - “Oh, I’m just kidding. I know Leon does not shit where he eats, not after Ada Wong!”

You didn’t know what to process first. To be relieved you were off the hook, to be disgusted by the phrasing, or to pay attention to the way Leon’s face changed after the mention of the name. He said the guy’s name sternly. A warning.

“Oh sorry, hit a nerve. He doesn’t talk about Ada.” – he finished his beer before adding, - “Would you believe our Mr. Cool over here fell for an enemy out of all people? Now he’s above it all, sure. Let that bitch walk all over and still-”

Leon stood up, - “Shut it. And take her name out of your mouth. You know nothing.”

It was your cue to deescalate the situation, but you just sat there. Silence filled the bar, and Leon walked out.

The guy who brought it up whistled, - “You’d think he’d be over it by now.”

“Hopeless romantic, that one” – cackled another, - “You must be used to his temper by now.” – He looked at you knowingly.

Before they left, you said that you’re were going to stay for a while, you had some business with the bartender. And you did, asked him for something stronger than beer.

At first you waited for Leon to come back, not letting any thoughts seep into your head. It wasn’t the best idea. You were better than this.

Did they know? Did they suspect? Was it their way to warn you?

You knew of Ada Wong, not much. Clearly not enough. It didn’t matter.

Didn’t it?

Whiskey never eased your thoughts, just made them flow more freely. It was a mistake to drink more after what happened. Another mistake.

Was it all a mistake? A thousand thoughts you desperately tried to keep at bay broke the dam and flooded your mind.

So that’s what it was about. Not about you, just him falling back to his habits. How could you judge? You weren’t exactly exhibiting a golden standard of professionalism yourself. It’s not a big deal. You both knew it wasn’t a big deal since the start, on the same page. Were you?

Suddenly everything felt disgusting, the bar, waiting for him felt embarrassing. Your thoughts right now, your dreams earlier. God, you were stupid.

You paid for the drinks and headed out. Bartender asking you something, as you turned to leave, not even listening. That was rude. Disgusting behavior.

It will all go away in the morning. It’s just too much information. Not enough information. Most people your age had past relationships; Leon was a couple years older. It’s not a big deal, he’s a young man with needs.

And you were just there to aid him with that. You had needs too. It was convenient and fair. Never gave any promises. Except that you did.

A lot of silent promises, it was convenient. Didn’t have to follow through if the only person who knew of them was you. Falling asleep was a challenge. You prayed for sleep to take away these thoughts. These feelings. You begged for a clean emotional palette in the morning.

But morning felt heavy on you on your shoulders. Sticky thoughts clinging to your consciousness and spreading like a disease. Embarrassing, grotesque, ugly.

You did your best to pick right through them and cage unwarranted ones. You were an adult.

So what, he had an ex. So, he didn’t want to talk about it with others. So, he didn’t want to be mocked. So what? It makes sense.

Was it because of her? What was it? You wanted to interrogate him, to strap him down to a chair and to get it all out of him. Make him confess it all to you. You deserved it. He owed nothing to you. You were way too mature to think like that.

You knew it was unhealthy since the start, you never learn. You needed a reality check. It felt like a slap in the face; hot, burning. Shame.

You were stupid enough to think you were special. You were stupid enough to overthink it now. Always overcomplicating. Was she the ghost in your eyes?

It wasn’t about you, it was your curiosity that made you walk into the office, wasting your day off, finding the intern you used to flirt with. By the time he got a promotion. Cut his hair differently, training weathered his frame a little, a beard making it's way to his face. Almost handsome. You tried your best to gather a crush, to cling to some dignity. It wasn’t all about Leon, your mind was capable of thinking of other people as well. And when you asked ex-intern to get you all info on Ada Wong he could find, it wasn’t about Leon as well. It was about your case. You saw him as a puzzle after all, it wasn’t personal. Just a curiosity.

Leon looked unaffected, if you weren’t there that evening he got all insulted over a mention of his ex-whatever, wouldn’t have a clue. He’s good at hiding. What else is he hiding? You thought you had your clues, not one.

Reading Ada’s files made you feel stupid. You kept thinking to all these times you thought it was sweet of him to care about you, to train you. You thought he liked feeling like he had something to teach, something to show. You were wrong, if Wong was what he wanted, he found your training sessions pathetic at best. She was better than you, better than him. Is this what he liked? You were so stupid. She was beautiful, not in the way you were.

You learnt all about how she wrapped Leon around her finger, he messed up. It was pathetic of him, embarrassing. You tried your best to transfer those feelings onto him, to project. It didn’t work. He wasn’t pathetic, he was this hopeless romantic with a ghost of a lover in his eyes. A woman who managed to steal her way into his heart even after betrayal. That wasn’t pathetic. You were, collecting any piece of information about her that you could. Now that was pathetic.

How you wanted to solve this puzzle, convinced that once you do, it will let you go. Set you free. You couldn’t possibly spend much longer on his leash. Tracking all your thoughts to him. To her.

They made you feel sick. You hated her for disrupting your fairytale. You hated him for not playing his part right. You hated yourself for allowing this fairytale to take roots.

It was stupid. You had so many guys after you in university, so many people at work who’d die to ask you out. You had all the cards when it came to dating, and you knew it. But you felt stupid and ugly. It was like all the miserable scenarios; all your jealousy seeped its way through your skin and you had to wear it heavy on your face. Ugly.

He ruined everything. He was not responsible for your feelings. You took pride in your emotional intelligence. Even that, he managed to take away from you. It was all tainted.

You weren’t jealous, just disgusted with yourself. Ashamed of being naïve. Ashamed of your thoughts and reactions. Was it even her real name? Ada Wong. Seemed fake. She surely made that up, who in their right mind uses a real name with a job like hers? If you can even count it as a job.

You wondered if Leon knew her real name. He knew of her nature, knew what she was doing for a living, he killed people for less. And yet couldn’t stand someone speaking badly of her. Left you alone.

Maybe it was a way to escape the conversation, maybe he knew something, knew these people and knew they would dig to find the truth about your affair if he stayed. This had to stop. You couldn’t afford to advocate for him just to justify your lack of maturity. You had sex because you were two adults in close proximity who happened to find each other attractive enough. That was it. Any complications will only hurt down the road.

The urge to shut off and be cold was as immature as it was natural. You could not force yourself to be any different. Couldn’t let go of the only shield that you knew, even though you knew it was childish, you knew it was wrong. You know it, you knew it all. You were smart. You were beautiful, you were capable and daring and independent. Why on earth did you do this to yourself?

You were miserable.

You had to let this go. It was in your head. Ada Wong was nowhere to be found, she was an evil, horrible person who betrayed people, a criminal with no regards for anything other than money. If Leon fell for it, he’s pathetic. You had a moral high ground in the situation regardless of any circumstance. At least you weren’t a criminal. The days you spent in therapy came to your mind. That was unethical, not illegal. It would be considered illegal in some states.

You weren’t a bad person.

Seeing Leon on duty was easier than you anticipated. Acting like you didn’t drag your dignity through the mud was harder, but you managed. Made it work.

A little more quiet than usual, but it was fitting for the mission. You flew over to another country to assist Secret Service agents responsible for president’s safety by tracking down the shooter. They knew assassination attempt was planned, but couldn’t risk to let it be carried out, so you had to track down whoever was smart enough not to die by being too bold, but dumb enough to be entangled in this mess. Not very physically demanding for the most part, a lot to do with getting into the head of someone who puts their life on a line to do something stupid.

Daytime shows always portrayed these criminals as some genius people who had a plan and an ideology. Reality was disappointing; it was mostly poor people with no education, desperate enough to do any “job” for a promise of money they never end up seeing. Their handlers weren’t much smarter, bribed to organize the mess you had to take care of because violence pays.

They were all stupid at the end of the day, putting their lives at risk for money. Just like Ada Wong. She was less stupid than your regular criminal, had to give her that. Maybe that’s why she was able to leave such a lasting impression. She’s just like a daytime TV drama character.

So smart and horrible, but since she’s sexy and rich, it can all be forgiven, it makes her cool. Was she rich? No idea, but she had to be, a lot of money involved in the field, if you can even call it that. Surely, she was sexy, you saw the photos that were in the system. Studied the 3D model of her face that was created to identify her under all the wigs and disguises just in case. You looked at her face for hours imagining Leon kissing her lips, what it would feel like. Desensitize yourself, so you don’t get visually bothered next time someone brings her up. To understand him better, perhaps, he was just a puzzle at the end of the day. You were invested as a phycologist; it was essentially just research.

“Missing the action?”

“What?” – you looked at Leon, who was setting up yet another spyglass set (that looked more like a telescope fit to see what was happening on Mars) in the empty apartment you were stuck at.

“Looks like you’re not enjoying our little getaway.”

“That’s not a getaway, Leon, we’re on duty.”

“Could be worse.” – a sly smile as he adjusted the lens, eyes hidden by the steel tube.

Fuck, he was hot. You knew better than to open your mouth, feeling the word vomit coming up. You were going to mention her name, if you kept talking. This whole thing turned into obsession that wasn’t healthy. Let it go.

There are ways to process those emotions. Therapists can provide valuable assistance in dealing with feelings of jealousy over a partner's ex by offering various strategies and approaches. You’re capable.

Understanding Emotions. Exploring and understanding the roots of this jealousy. Was it insecurity? Fear of abandonment? You had nothing to be insecure about. And there’s no abandonment if you weren’t an item in the first place. Knowing someone could be this close to you and not head over heels might have hurt your self-esteem. So, he was kissing your neck as your bodies collided, but it wasn’t enough to forget another woman. Like you weren’t that special. That hurt, we all want to be special. Sometimes you felt your pride suffer when a barista ignored your smile as they gave you your coffee. That rarely happened, maybe once. But you still remember. It was an issue to work on. Nothing to do with Ada Wong.

Cognitive Restructuring. Cognitive-behavioral techniques were useless on you, you had no irrational thoughts. You got high on feelings, got hurt, humbled and it was an uncomfortable situation to deal with. Your negative thought patterns associated with jealousy were mostly about your pride. It wasn’t about other people. They had no control over you.

Communication Skills. There was no point in talking about something you created in your own head. You were not in a relationship with Leon, you did not know the Wong girl, whatever her real name was. It was about you and your self-esteem issues. Thinking it through was enough.

So, building self-esteem was the way. What were you defined as that you took most pride in? It used to be your academic achievements. You gave it up. Your job? Where you really any better than hired criminals who put their lives at risk for someone else? Where you really that much better than Ada fucking Wong?

There was no pride in your job anymore. Daytime TV lied and you weren’t even the best at what you were doing. Did you find pride in your looks? Yes, but now that you were used as a fuck doll, it was pretty hard to do it. Your maturity and emotional intelligence? Not when you were crushing out because a co-worker you screw for fun has an ex he didn't manage to get over. As if it matters in any capacity. Ridiculous how you let yourself get so low. All this inadequacy and competitiveness was a result of doing a job you did not even like anymore. A burnout.

Mindfulness and Emotional Regulation. You had to regulate any and every ugly thought, filter your goddamn mind. No more wallowing.

Setting Boundaries. It wasn’t even an affair; you were just helping each other to blow off steam. You had to trust each other with your bodies at work, it worked. Could trust each other with your bodies off work; not a big deal.

Had to reframe the relationship in your head. Remind yourself of the frame.

Comparative Analysis. Ada was nowhere to be found. Hiding like a criminal, that she was. And you were there. There was no way she could realistically get in the way of you living your life, and even if that happens? She can have him and moody ass any time. You do not need his energy bringing you down anyway. She can play these mind games with him; you just liked the way his body felt. The rest was hormones, you must’ve been very hormonal when you made all these things up. And you analyzed him because you missed your true calling.

Finally, the curse is broken. You took a sip of hot green tea, relaxing into the sofa in your hotel room. It was nice to be back, to not feel guilty, to finally make sense out of everything.

A knock on the door. Leon, Leon, Leon. So predictable. You debated opening the door for a split second before realizing that it’s a perfect opportunity to prove to yourself that you can finally trust your mind to not act like a lunatic. Essential even.

“Hey, I thought…” – he couldn’t finish his excuse, before you grabbed his shirt and tugged him inside, put him up against the wall. He looked at your hands, taken aback slightly; like it wasn’t what he came for. So charming, just how you like him.

You kissed his jaw, broad kisses travelling down his neck, - “Now that’s a gateway”, - you smiled as your hands dropped to the belt and felt up his thighs, teasing.

“Yeah…”, - he swallowed, throwing back his head slightly. Like he was contemplating something. You felt his neck move under your lips and it made you think of all the ways his body could move, will move in few minutes, the bottom of your stomach feeling tense, - “I thought… Had to check up on you” – he hissed as you bit above his shoulder.

“Check up on me, huh? I got a couple ideas…” – the hands on his pants circling closer to bulge that was very much prominent at this point.

“You must have some ideas” – he let out a breath, brows knitting slightly, - “Spent so much time at the office lately.”

You laughed, so silly. Did he keep track of your whereabouts? Waited for you to be available? – “Mhm… I have friends there.” – the circle came to a point and you palmed him, squeezing lightly.

“Like that Niall guy? What’s his name?”, - he tilted his head down to look at you, fast enough for you not to see it coming, you found yourself scared you might accidently kiss his lips. It terrified you for some reason, so you sank lower.

And lower, - “You’re thinking about me with Niall?” – slowly stroking the outline clear under his clothes, - “Does it turn you on?”

“What?” – he made a face, scrunching his nose, - “No”.

Hilarious, - “What about us three together?” – a frustrated huff through the nose, - “What about us three but with another girl?” – you picked up the pace, undoing the belt with a free hand, it was so entertaining riling him up, all this frustration, he could let it all out on you.

He called your name in that assertive tone that you liked, made you laugh as you licked the skin between the pants and a shirt, - “What if it was Ada Wong?”

He said your name again, catching both of your hands in a tight grip. Had to ruin all the fun.

“Come on, what now?” – you whined, rolling your eyes.

He yanked you up to your feet and looked at you. Studying, disappointed, accusing. What did you do?

You started at each other for a moment. You didn’t do silent treatment. “What?” – you repeated, this time more genuine annoyance in your tone, - “Use your words, Leon, fuck. I’m too tired for this.”

That look of a disappointed parent. Or a pet owner, - “Get some rest then.” – so full of it as he set in motion.

“No need to react this way, threesomes aren’t for everybody.”

“And don’t,” – he closed the door before lecturing you more, - “Don’t ever mention her name."

“Fine!” – you exclaimed, raising your eyebrows, - “Jeez, thought she made you hard, didn’t know she was such a boner killer.”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

“Fine! And I don’t want to!” – he wanted to act like an angry dad, you could match. It didn’t sound at all like you wanted, you didn’t have the authority in that scream to back it up; so, you stood there in silence for a slip second, - “Get out.”

The sound of the door closing felt like a punch to the core, a sob coming straight from your ribs before you chocked it with a hand to mouth. Pressing hard, tears flooding your fingers, tickling.

So fucking stupid. Everything was so fucking stupid. It hurt that you were just another fling at work, yes. But it hurt more that she wasn’t.

You hated her. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. You wanted to die.

The pain in his eyes, the disappointment. Did she do this to him? The ghost in his eyes? Was she the one who could make it go away? The burn in your chest rang up your ears and breathing got harder.

If she was so dear to him, you’d find her. Set them up together. And then you’d die. Horribly. You’d fall off a cliff, rocks breaking every bone and smashing away your body parts and then some… Some wild dogs would tear you to pieces and he’d watch. And before the fall someone would shoot you like ninety times. Straight to the heart, and then you’d fall. And as those wild dogs ate your flesh, they’d growl loudly. And he wouldn’t care.

He would be happy with his glorified criminal knowing that you died for it. And you’re the only reason he got to be happy. And it would… It would haunt him forever. He would look at Ada and see your ghost. Finally, she would be the one dealing with the ghost of you staring back from his beautiful eyes.

You were mature and rational. And you’d rather be dead than live through this.

You never learned how to lie to yourself, no matter the effort. It was never meaningless to you; it was larger than what you allowed yourself to dream of. And he was never a puzzle.

He was the only person who made you feel like you had nothing to prove. Like you were worth the effort with no payback. And you had such deep respect and love for him. It hurt to admit. Knowing that your feelings were yours alone. It hurt to know that truth.

That all these times he trained you, he missed his very much skilled lover. That every moment that was meaningful to you, was just a distraction for him.

You didn’t want to be small, your ego was through so much, but maybe it was the lesson you had to learn. To let go of that thing that stalled you every time you made a mistake.

You weren’t special, nobody cares if you’re in the right, if you’re better, smarter, ethical. So, it’s okay if you fall short. That you’re going to live through this.

You are going to live through this.

Last day of the mission the weather was mockingly good. Feathered clouds hugging the sun just enough to soften the rays that danced on the ground as if they were playing hide and seek with the wind. Daytime TV always matched the weather to the feelings of the main character. Maybe you weren’t. Not even special enough for the weather to reflect your turmoil. It made you smile, the realization. Bittersweet, but you could handle knowing this truth, so you could handle the rest.

Leon was even more brooding than ever, weather didn’t pick him as the main character either. You were both doomed. Warm wind merrily moved his hair, as if it was pleading “Play with me, play with me, Leon!”. He didn’t care for it.

Leon noticed you looking at him, tucking his radio set in a pocket, he was about to say something when you interrupted, - “I’m quitting.”

The wind decided to try you this time, tickling your face by messing up the hair and exposing your neck, you smiled. That wind reminded you of a little kid. You weren't in the mood to play, sorry.

Leon nodded, said “Okay, we’ll get back to that” and picked up the radio set. Just like he would if you weren’t there. Just like he will.

Sure, but there was nothing to discuss. He could go back to whatever he wanted.

The flight home was silent. It was nice to be on a plane for a change, a private jet, not being thrown into the helicopter. You realized you never got to say goodbye to those views out of that noisy flying box. You never knew your last helicopter work transfer would be your last the last time you were there. Funny how things work. You have it all figured out and before you know it, everything changes and you don’t know whose body you’re in. Who is this strange person? What will this person do? Will it feel familiar ever again? Will it feel like home inside your skin?

Your blue-eyed partner spent the flight staring at the window, deep in his thoughts, up until he decided to occupy the seat next to you, leaving quite a bit of space, like you might not be safe to get close to.

“Hey…” - his voice soft, you’d like to remember that voice instead the one that he used earlier, - “Listen… Did something happen? Is it your family? Did something happen at home?”

The tenderness in which he carefully approached almost surprised you. You looked at him.

“You’ve been… I’ve never seen you like this. Noticed for a while… Now you want to quit.” – he glanced and looked away, not to pressure, - “You know, you can tell me”.

You slowly shook your head, - “Nothing happened.”

Silence once more claimed the cabin. It was comforting to have him around, not too close, just there, - “You spent so much time at the office lately. Reading, studying… Do you miss it? Want to go back?”

You looked at him, indifferent yet with so much pain in your eyes, tired, raised your shoulders in a little shrug. You looked so broken.

“You know… I understand. I had my moments… I was the best at the academy, put my all into it, and when I… When I graduated and it hit me that you can’t always measure… How good you did something…”

He was truly good. You could never paint him a villain in your story. Not even when he hurt you. He managed to find the root of the problem, you missing the career you left behind, dodging every shameful detail. Took your time spent studying as something upstanding instead of what it was, dignified your most embarrassing lows. You really loved him. And it tugged on your shattered heart.

“What are you doing?” – you asked him kindly, his attention fully yours, - “You don’t have to mentor me…” – you reached out and put your hand on his, comforting. It was okay.

A warm look, those blue eyes studying yours, looking for something, - “I’m not…”

“It’s okay.” – Gave him a bittersweet smile.

He took your hand in his. Strong warm fingers, brushing carefully, - “The sky is going to be lonely without you, Dove.” – you hummed, humoring the joke, - “I’m going to be lonely.” – he added, it hurt.

You sighed, - “You’ll find another.” - Took your hand away, - “You and the sky.” – There was no malice in those words, you truly meant it, - “After all it’s not your first affair at work. Won’t be last.” – it was comforting to finally accept it. Accept it to the point where you could say it and not feel rage. It broke your heart, but you’d learn how live with it. It wasn’t your first affair at work as well, after all.

Silence was cushioned by the mellow sound of the engine, white noise; after some time, he got closer and you put your head on his shoulder. He kissed your head as you pretended to fall asleep. It was something that will always stay with you. Had no photographs, it was too late to borrow his clothes, nothing. Just this one memory that wasn’t tainted by jealousy. That wasn’t butchered by an autopsy and fragmented into pieces to be devalued in a shrewd attempt to glue your ego back together. And it was nice. He was nice. It was okay.

You sat up straight when you were convinced that Leon fell asleep, looked at him, expecting to memorize his features. To your surprise, he was awake, completely still. You could swear his eyelashes were more matted than before. Your poor baby, it wasn’t worth it.

“You know… Ada.” – his voice heavy. Oh. Well, perhaps that was worth it. Perhaps she was, - “We met… Few times. She was the one who took something from me. Made it impossible to care for others.” – That explains it. Finally, the puzzle is coming along. Your goal is about to be complete and there’d be nothing left to do here. You almost didn’t want to know all the answers of why he couldn’t ever care about you, - “I spent years thinking I gave my heart in vain. I was so sure all I was good for was to be used.” – hearing him say that was devastating, - “But when I met her again. I figured it wasn’t like that. She saved me, more than once. More than in one sense. She really cared. She did. But she couldn’t act on it, fully, because she wasn’t free. It wasn’t me who was good for nothing. It was her, refusing to let go of her cage. I owe it to her, recognizing that there’s something worth breaking the rules and cages for, and if you don’t…”

“You embody the cage that trapped you?”

He nodded, - “Hollow.”

You wanted to move to hug him, to hold his hand, anything, but he wasn’t done.

“So, I owe it to her. Nobody gets it. I owe it to her to not end up the same. I know that she l…- “– he bit his lip, angry at himself for some reason, - “She loved me. I know it. She had love in her. And she walked away from it. So, I promised myself not be like that.” – there was a build up in his tone, what seemed to be a sob story about his one true love, was revealing itself a charged speech that was about to go off, - “So you may it call an affair, us, but I cannot agree with this. I don’t. And if you want to treat it that way, it’s your call. But you have to be honest with yourself.”

That was a lot to process. A lot of cracks in your theories to fill. What kind of strategy is this? What was he getting you into? This is disruptive, it made you uncomfortable.

“Understand that. I care, okay?” – he nudged your shoulder, - “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m all ears.”

That last phrase sounded a lot like “I’m all yours” to you at first and when the realization of what he actually said hit, you found yourself looking for an escape from that corner he got you in. You’re hearing what you want to hear again. That’s unhealthy.

That man didn’t even belong to himself. Despite what he’s saying, he’s a lot like Ada, a thought ran through your head. He saw so much of himself in her, and he didn’t like it. He must’ve seen enough of goodness in her to not give up on himself in that case. You spent so much time cursing the woman who in actuality convinced him to care about you, if you buy what he says. Did he have a reason to lie? Where you becoming just like them? Jaded.

Above all, she saved his life. You owed it to her. And in that moment, it hit you all at once. The stress you’ve been under. The idea of Leon dying, not being able to talk to him again, to touch him. Ada Wong and her love that she never got to share. Was it fair that she saved him for someone else? Where was she? How was she? Were you experiencing ego death?

Your eyes hurt, tears filling up the corners, chocked up, - “I’m so tired.”

Leon must’ve pulled you in, because for a moment, the world narrowed down to black, feeling of wet cheeks against a fabric, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, temples pulsing, and it smelled like him. Must’ve been an awkward position, couldn’t tell where your limbs were, but you felt his hands caressing the back of your head, rubbing your back; you stayed like that till you breathing evened out, and you wiped your face, standing up and excusing yourself to go wash your face.

When you came back, he offered you a water bottle without saying a word.

Lingering sadness in the air. What a wild mess. Who are you going to be when you walk out of the jet?

“How can I help?” – poor guy looked genuinely worried, was probably convinced something bad happened and you were going through a lot. Maybe you were.

You shook your head and he dropped it.

Usually, he’d carry the bags with equipment out to the storage facility once you land, a courtesy to the staff. This time he followed you, calling your name and on land you felt more strangely claustrophobic next to him, more so than in a tiny cabin in the skies, so you quickened you pace, hearing him call your name. Dangerously bad at goodbyes, so much for being mature, you just took off and ran. You wanted out.

Leon caught up to you, trapping you in an empty hallway, both of his hands against the cold white walls, your shoulders in between, didn’t touch you, but you knew you couldn’t get away easily. You whined and closed your eyes, when will this interrogation stop? You wanted to sleep.

He got closer, studying your swollen face intensely, traced your jawline with his nose, pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, the corner of your mouth, to the side of your nose, you tried to push the man away; your palms on his chest, but he grabbed your hands by the wrists and pinned them to a wall, next to your face. So dependent and reactive, every time one of you got tougher, the other got weaker. It was obvious what was coming, you had no strength in you left to fight it, it wasn’t clear why you were fighting it to begin with. He kissed your lips, soft and intimate. A deep kiss, slow, it was the most vulnerable thing between you to this day. Heartbreaking, for no reason at all. His hand, cupped your face, as soon as he felt tears on the lips, then he took your face in both, - “Fuck, not this…” – he kissed your cheeks, stroking your jaw; rough hands suddenly tender and careful, - “Please, baby…”

You clung to his neck, hiding, gripping, he picked you up, held closely, before sliding down the wall, squeezing you in his arms, like you’d fall apart if he were to let go. It was true.

You were so scared of letting go of the life you grew to be familiar with. Scared of starting it all again. Scared of facing the truth that running away from problems was the biggest problem of them all. Scared of letting another person in, the one who had too much power over you, who had an affect on you so profound you were no longer the one in control. Scared of not letting him in and ending up alone. Scared of loud noises because of all the blood and the pain. Scared of this job traumatizing you for life for no good reason.

Someone appeared from the left side of the hallway, you heard rushed footsteps echoing and a worried voice, - “Is everything alright?”

Scared of footsteps.

“Need a medic.” – Leon’s voice firm, full of urgency.

You felt like you were going to die.

You didn’t die though, and no one did. Got looked at, got a strong prescription, got sent home. Got a service dog, kept you active as well as safe and alert when it got worse. Leon loved that dog, sometimes it even made you slightly jealous, making you laugh at how immature you could be. You quit. On your way of getting a PhD, working on most severe PTSD cases and yet still sometimes jealous over the silliest things like your boyfriend paying too much attention to your dog. It was hard to stay jealous through, catching Leon’s adoring eyes every now and then as he watched you. And he loved watching you; as you were studying, writing, doing chores, cooking, walking, playing with the dog. You never wondered what was it, never tried to read his mind. His mind was his and you trusted him with it. Couldn’t see far enough into the future, but you trusted him with it too.

_____________

I typed a lot straight to tumblr at the end there and if doesn't go through i'm gonna kms bc it will be lost forever

#aaaaaaa #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x ada wong #angst #hurt/comfort #ao3 #fanfic #leon x reader #resident evil #re4 leon

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 2 days ago

Text

Spoiled;; HHJ

Word Count;; 1.3k

Genre;; Yandere, “Bully”

Pairing;; Hyunjin x Reader

Summary;;

Five days. Just five more days and you'll be free of Hyunjin's daily torture. Or, rather, that's what you've decided. But Hyunjin doesn't discard his favourite toys, not without breaking them first.

Request;;

Anon requested, “Hyunjin + 🛏 Felix + 🛏 (Yandere ver pls 🥺)” in reference to this fanfic game!

Warnings;;

High School AU, seniors at a private academy, Hyunjin is a spoiled jerk and a bully, explicit language, physical violence in the form of a slap

Notes;;

The tropes I chose were: Rich Kid | Spoiled Brat This was meant to be short lol Me getting to the end of the fic during my initial edit after abandoning it for several months: wtf this isn’t even finished, thanks a lot OP, hope your water runs cold mid-shower. Also who am I to keep this to myself for so long? This one is so fun, ahhh

Main Masterlist || SKZ Masterlist

Hyunjin thinks he owns the world.

From the private academy you both attend to his family’s country club up in the hills down to the sparkling beach – the whole town is his romping ground. When someone gets in his way, he swats them aside. If someone crosses him, he buries them. Legally, not literally. At least for now. But it’s only a matter of time before he follows in his parents’ footsteps. There’s rumours about the Hwangs–none of them savoury–so you keep your distance. The last thing you need is for some snob to ruin your life just because he’s bored.

The problem, however, stems from the conscious decision to ignore him. It isn’t natural, and the bastard is eagle-eyed. Sure, walk the other way when you see him coming once and it’s not a big deal. Finish your meal and leave the cafeteria the moment he enters a few times and it might be a coincidence. Being conveniently sick every time group projects were being assigned, though… that’s something your seatmate took notice of.

Hyunjin always gets his way.

So when he asked the teacher for your address, he got it. Your personal information was handed over to him and he didn’t even have to bat an eye. The only warning you received was a belated text from your childhood friend. By the time you read it, your mother had already opened the door for him. What once was sacred became tainted beneath his taunting gaze, and another sliver of the city fell to him.

“Hey, partner,” he drawled, waving a stack of papers toward you standing atop the staircase. “We missed you in class today.”

And from that day forth you’ve been on his radar. No more hiding, no more running – he always finds you, even if that means showing up at your house unannounced.

While your friends offer their sympathy they no longer offer their companionship. No one in their right mind is willing to get in between Hyunjin and his current obsession. Your lunches are spent surrounded by people with too much money and not enough humanity. When they laugh down at the masses, they do so knowing full well you’re also one of those ‘little ants’. You don’t belong in this world. It’s toxic and it’s fake.

But you can’t leave, either. Not when Hyunjin’s eyes light up every time you squirm. His breath hitches when tears threaten to fall. Running just makes it more entertaining. Upon your capture he parades you around like a trophy. His friends cheer him on and the rest of the students avoid you, banishing you from their minds. Now you’re no more than an unfortunate sacrifice.

“It’s better this way,” a boy once said. “He’s so focused on you that he doesn’t bother with anyone else.”

Better you than them.

The issue with Hyunjin is that he doesn’t understand boundaries. Or rather he doesn’t respect them. He doesn’t care about you and he doesn’t need you, but he also won’t let you out of his sight. Like a parasite, you can’t free yourself of him. When you asked him not to come to your home anymore, his visits doubled. You need to create distance from him, and a chance to regain your dignity far away from the little pet he’s forced you to become. It’s only a matter of time before he makes it official and puts a leash on you.

Hyunjin, to put it frankly, is a spoiled brat.

“Just leave me alone,” you whisper-shout, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You don’t bother to look at him or the potential onlookers. The last thing you want is to be embroiled in town gossip. Your family struggles enough as it is. Picking up your pace, you continue down the sidewalk.

Sweat builds along your hairline under the harsh summer sun. It’s pretty much the end of the school year. Just another week of formalities and you’ll graduate, moving on to greener pastures. And when that happens… you’ll be free. Hyunjin will find a new toy to play with at whatever university is unlucky enough to accept him, and you’ll forget this wretched semester of torment ever happened. You just have to last another week.

Just five more days!

“Come on babe, get in.” The engine purrs as his car pulls up beside you, one wheel on the curb. Jumping back from its close proximity, you shoot Hyunjin a glare. “What’s it gonna hurt? Aside from your pride, that is.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll get you home twice as quick, and on a Friday no less. It’ll open your weekend right up.”

“No, thank you.”

The smile slides off his face. Switching off the engine, he jumps out of his car, slamming the door as he approaches you. You flinch as he stops mere inches in front of you. His cologne shrouds you, strong and dizzying. With no room to breathe let alone move, you’re given a front row seat to the incarnation of his wrath. His eyes darken and his scowl contorts into a malignant sneer.

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Maybe you should get used to hearing it, unless you don’t plan on joining the real world like the rest of us.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

“I said I’m walking home, Hyunjin. You’re not my keeper, you’re not my boyfriend, you’re not even my friend. Find someone else to entertain you. I’m done.”

Bone threatens to snap from the sheer force in which he grabs your wrist. Far from gentle, he yanks you forward, near-dangling you before him as your feet drag behind. His eyes are alight with unbridled fury. Panic festers in your gut. Squirming, you try to free yourself but his hold is iron-clad.

“Ow! What the fuck! Let me go!”

“Let you go? Why should I? You’re mine. Mine. I own you, and I keep my toys until they break.”

“You bastard! I’m not yours. Get your hands off me before I call the police,” you growl, twisting your wrist until the pain is unbearable. Making no real progress, you switch to fishing your phone from your pocket. The second it’s out and you’re punching in the emergency code, he snatches the device out of your hand. You gasp when he flings it at the storm drain. Down it falls, lost to the muck and grime. “What the fuck! Hey, someone help me! Help!”

His slap echoes in your mind, rattling around within your skull. Your teeth clatter and your jaw aches. Biting your lip to hold back tears, you touch where his palm connected with your cheek. It’s raw. Pain jolts across your skin.

“Now tell me, are you broken?”

“You’re a monster.”

Despite being prepared for it the second hit still stings.

“Are. You. Broken?”

“You’ll never break me,” you spit, holding his ice-cold stare. “I’d never give you the satisfaction.”

It’s eerie how his lips upturn into a smile. The storm recedes to just below the surface and a calm settles within his eyes. He tidies up your hair before cradling your chin. “And that’s exactly what I love about you.”

His grip loosens around your wrist. Blood rushes back into your numb fingers. Glancing down you wince. Imprinted on your skin is the outline of his hand. Bruises are already starting to bloom. Never one to give up, he entwines his hand with yours and continues with his original objective: getting you into his goddamn car. You don’t fight this time, allowing yourself to be ushered in. He buckles your seatbelt, trapping you within.

The car dips as he hops into the driver’s seat. Upon turning on the car he starts to laugh. Mirthless and indifferent – it makes your skin crawl. “So much for getting you home early, huh?” He taps the electronic display and its mocking numbers. “How about next time you do what you’re told, when you’re told, and save us all this hassle?”

– ♡ – If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and following! Thank you! – ♡ –

#yandere #yandere au #yandere skz #yandere hyunjin #yandere kpop #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #yandere x reader #kpop x reader #kpoptrashlord-007 #yandere stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz fanfic

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shimmerandink · 3 days ago

Text

Braided Bonds

Jinx x Gn! Reader

Fluff

Tags: Jinx x reader, gn! Reader, sfw, hideout, braiding, jinx and reader being cute

Summary: Reader helps Jinx to braid her hair

The hideout is unusually quiet.

Jinx is sprawled out on the floor, her back against a pile of cushions, absentmindedly toying with a strand of her blue hair. The usual chaos, sparks flying from half-finished explosives, music blaring through the walls, manic laughter, has faded into something softer, almost… peaceful.

You sit nearby, watching as she twists the strand around her fingers, eyebrows furrowed like she’s deep in thought. For a girl who thrives on disorder, her hair is a different story, it’s always carefully braided, every strand tucked in place, as if it’s the one thing she can control.

“Y’know,” you say casually, leaning back on your hands, “I could braid that for you.”

Jinx stills. Her fingers freeze mid-twist, and for a second, you think she’s going to scoff, make a joke, or brush you off entirely. But instead, she tilts her head, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something vulnerable.

“You think you can do it better than me, huh?” she teases, but there’s no bite to it.

You smile. “Maybe. Wanna find out?”

For a moment, she hesitates. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she turns her back to you and flops against your legs.

“Fine. But if you suck at it, I’m gonna pretend I never let this happen.”

You laugh, running your fingers through the long strands, feeling the warmth of her resting against you.

As Jinx settles against your legs, you take a deep breath, letting your fingers glide through her long, electric-blue hair. It’s surprisingly soft, despite the chaos she throws herself into daily.

“You ever let anyone do this before?” you ask, carefully undoing one of her braids.

Jinx hums, tapping her fingers against your knee. “Mmm… maybe. But if I say yes, you’ll get all pouty ‘cause you wanna be my first, huh?”

You chuckle. “Not pouty. Just… curious.”

She shifts slightly but doesn’t pull away. “Vi used to do it. When we were kids. Before, y’know… everything.”

The weight behind her words hangs in the air for a moment. You don’t push, if Jinx wants to talk about the past, she will, and if not, you’re not about to pry. Instead, you keep your touch gentle, untangling the strands with slow, careful movements.

“She’d always tug too hard,” Jinx adds after a pause, her voice quieter now. “Said I never sat still. But you’re… nice.”

Your heart tightens at that.

“Well, I’ll try not to pull,” you say softly, beginning to weave a new braid.

For once, she stays still, her breathing even, her body relaxed against you. It’s a rare thing, Jinx, calm, not bouncing from thought to thought, not reaching for a weapon or a new explosive scheme. Just here, with you.

As you work, you sneak a glance at her face. Her eyes are half-lidded, watching your hands move, but there’s something else there, something warm, something unspoken.

“You’re really into this, huh?” she teases, though its usual bite.

“Maybe I just like taking care of you,” you admit.

Jinx goes quiet. Then, after a beat, she huffs dramatically.

“Ugh. Gross. You’re making me all mushy,” she groans, throwing her hands up. But she doesn’t move away. If anything, she leans into you just a little more.

You laugh, tying off the braid and brushing your fingers over it lightly. “There. All done.”

Jinx reaches back, running her fingers over the braid. She doesn’t say anything at first, just fiddles with the end of it, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she turns slightly, peeking up at you through strands of blue hair.

“You’re… really good at that,” she mutters, and for once, there’s no teasing in her voice. Just something quiet. Something real.

You smile. “Told you.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, turning fully so she’s facing you now, her chin resting against your knee as she looks up at you. Her pink eyes shimmer with something playful, but underneath that, something softer, something searching.

“You like takin’ care of me, huh?” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly.

You brush a strand of hair from her face, fingers lingering against her cheek. “Yeah. I do.”

Jinx’s grin falters for half a second, just a fraction of a moment where she lets herself feel it. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she flops forward, wrapping her arms around your waist, pressing her face into your stomach.

“Ugh. You’re making me soft,” she groans, but the way she clings to you says otherwise.

You chuckle, running your fingers through her hair again, this time just to touch, just to keep her close. “That a bad thing?”

Jinx tilts her head back slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. “Dunno yet. Might need some convincing.”

Your heart stutters as she leans up, closer now, her face inches from yours. The air shifts between you, playful teasing giving way to something heavier, something charged.

You don’t overthink it. You just close the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

Jinx freezes for half a second before melting into you, her hands tightening around your shirt. When you finally pull away, her lips are still parted, pink eyes wide, not with shock, but with something almost… awed.

Then, she grins, breathless. “Okay. Maybe soft isn’t so bad.”

You laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Jinx hums, resting her forehead against yours. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t go thinkin’ you can make a habit outta this, ‘kay?”

You just smile, pulling her in closer. “No promises.”

And Jinx? She doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

#arcane #arcane fandom #league of legends x reader #arcane x you #arcane fluff #arcane fanfic #jinx fluff #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #Jinx

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ephemeralinstance · 19 hours ago

Text

Why is Rook so uncurious?

I've seen people complain that Veilguard changes Solas' motivations. And that's sort of true, but really it doesn't so much change them as just try really hard not to look at them. All of the things we were shown in previous games about the ongoing and serious harm done by the Veil still remain completely true, it's just that Rook is never allowed to ask or think about any of this stuff. Which is frustrating because it significantly weakens Rook's character: they end up coming off as determinedly ignorant and uncurious.

Take the information we're given about why taking down the Veil is bad - which seems entirely limited to Varric's claim that it would 'drown the world in demons.' Rook is constantly parroting this line, treating Varric as the ultimate authority on the matter. But this claim makes very little sense, because it surely cannot be the case that Solas wants to create a world filled with nothing but demons. From Inquisition we know he's greatly distressed every time a spirit becomes a demon, so that can't possibly be the outcome that he's expecting.

Of course, Solas could be wrong; he's certainly been wrong about many things before and he's not thinking very clearly. But even so, why on earth would we take Varric's word over Solas' here? Solas is an ancient and knowledgeable mage, the only person around who lived before the Veil, and he literally made the Veil. Whereas Varric is not a mage, has never studied magic or spirits, and is canonically frightened of the Fade and spirits: in the Lighthouse he mentions several times that he finds this 'Fade shit' weird. How could he possibly be in a position to know better than Solas about what would happen if the Veil came down?

Maybe I as a player can just accept that because Varric is The Narrator he must be right about all this. But Rook doesn't know that Varric is The Narrator. So it just feels like Rook is either incredibly ignorant or so devoted to Varric that their ability to think for themself has completely shut down. It's such an odd, anti-intellectual, anti-expert framing: don't do research or talk to anyone who has knowledge on the matter, just accept unquestioningly what your friend says.

Equally frustrating is the absence of any critical thinking about Solas' reasons for doing what he's doing. The only thing Varric and Harding tell Rook about this is that Solas is doing it because the ancient world was beautiful, but what does that mean? And is it really plausible that Solas is doing all this just because of aesthetics?

Rook hears Solas say 'The Veil is a wound on the world,' and never once thinks to ask - what did he mean by that? A wound is something that causes harm, that causes pain. What is the Veil harming? What pain is it responsible for? (From previous games we know the answer, of course. It's harming spirits, mages, and perhaps elves. But Rook never bothers to ask Solas, or to ask anyone else, or even to try to think about for themself about it.).

There's a moment right at the very end, where Solas is finally permitted to mention that he's doing this partly for the spirits. But in a perfect encapsulation of their whole dynamic, Rook immediately interrupts him. Doesn't even let him finish his sentence. Rook is so completely confident that they know best for the spirits and that this person who literally was once a spirit couldn't possibly have any insight into the matter.

At the beginning of the game Varric comments that he chose the name 'Rook' because Rook tends to think in straight lines. Which struck me as odd at the time, because 'thinks in straight lines' sounds like Varric is saying Rook isn't very smart. I thought I must have misinterpreted it, because why on earth would you choose to impose as a requirement on all players that their pc must lack critical thinking? But looking back I can see that's kinda exactly what they did, which - maybe they thought it would be more relatable? Still, if you're going to impose a fixed personality on the main character of a game, it's baffling to me that you would pick 'absence of critical thinking' as one of their main features.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #solas meta #dragon age inquisition #veilguard critical #dragon age meta #rook critical #every time I play Rook I miss the Inquisitor #for whom curiosity was literally a defining trait #this is why Solas/Rook is uh #completely impossible #Solas would never be attracted to that

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hanihazeljade · 2 days ago

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Three Days

Three days before Tim loses his shit the wedding

Tim noticed it.

He might be retired but being observant was his one and only talent since he was a kid. It was engraved in him.

He knows that everyone in this damn house was trying their best to spend his remaining three days in Gotham. And in Tim’s humble opinion, it is fucking annoying.

Like don’t get him wrong, but if he spends one more minute being surrounded by the Waynes, buttering him up to extend his stay in Gotham, he might really just fall off the grid once again and he doesn’t want that.

+++++

Dick has been catering every whim he said out loud, a little bad habit he developed while living in Hokkaido. Now, Tim has to revert back to keeping his mouth shut and a little annoying since he cannot say that he wanted that amazing strawberry crepe that pass through his Instagram feed or that delectable taiyaki that he craves since getting out of Japan, it is winter and taiyaki is a must have.

“Tim, do you really not like this crepe that I bought for you?”

“No.”

“But you just said earlier—”

“No is no, Richard.”

But now, he cannot say it or even just look so hungry looking at his phone, because Richard John Grayson is definitely gonna buy or make it and Tim will never eat it. Because he wants no connection of the hot and sweet taiyaki to any of the Waynes once he goes back to Japan.

+++++

Jason reads him whenever Tim is playing with his phone and Tim will just put on earbuds. In Timothy’s perspective and based on the years that he lived in this house, Jason has always read outloud just to annoy him. How does Tim know that Jason was trying to bond with him? However, Jason was not cowering and just letting Tim to not bond with him.

So, he invited Tim to a shooting range and Tim is kind off hesitating as he sworn of guns but that is because he has the chance to become Gun Batman and now that he is not in the cape community, he already get rid his sense of justice (he never had in the first place), and he does not care about Batman anymore. So he said yes, and he is please to see that his precision is still at it’s top shape. Maybe he might not be actively throwing batarangs and grapples, he has been playing shooting games and goldfish scooping. Jason is shocked to see that the retired Robin has a better aim than him, after 7 years of retirement, but still not strong enough to handle teh recoil of Alfred’s shotgun.

“How the fuck you have a better aim than me?”

“Arcade games and catching a lot of fish, baka.”

“I can understand Japanese!”

+++++

Damian tried his best to spend time with Tim everytime the latter has photographing in Alfred’s greenhouse. And throughout the whole time, they are minding their business. Tim is photographing in his space and Damian is painting in his. And in the end of the day, Damian gives Timothy his finished piece with the excuse of trying out new technique or art style, and Tim knew after three paintings, was a bullshit excuse as there were never anything different in each painting.

“Timothy.”

“What is this?”

“A finished piece.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“It clashed with the style of my previous works.”

“Kind of ironic. You embody chaos.”

+++++

Bruce is trying his best to spend time with Tim, however the late changes in Cass and Steph’s wedding has kept him busy. Tim truly missed the butting heads between him and Bruce on certain debates and all but he understands that Bruce can finally bring Stephanie in his family after years of wanting to. After all, Bruce could not adopt Steph, so this is a way for him to finally legalise Steph in his family.

+++++

Alfred is there spending time with him in silence when he is editing his photos and answering emails in the kitchen counter and Alfred is there either washing the dishes or preparing a meal and will occasionally put down a treat and beverage mostly just cookie and tea. Tim appreciates it, he likes the tranquility Alfred gave him with the bonus of spending time with him.

“I hope the snack was to your taste, Master Tim.”

“It was Alfred. I will miss it.”

“Well, you could have not.”

Tim just smiled.

+++++

Cass and Steph occasionally pooped out to drag Tim out of the manor to try something that changed throughout the 7 year leave. He tried the new tanghulu stand in Diamond District, he also tried the new trift shop in Old Gotham, and the new addition in Robinson Park that Ivy reserved only to her trusted people.

“I don’t know how you and Cass can do this in a day.”

“That is a sign of aging, you know.”

“Hey!”

“It’s fine. I love you, still and always.”

“Cass, you're supposed to be on my side!”

+++++

Tim is not lying when he said that he likes the attention that he is currently receiving because he indeed likes it. He loves any attention that he gets. But he is not an idiot, he knows it is temporary, once he comes back for good in Gotham, this newfound attention will dissipate in air. Like his time back then.

Tim knows that he is not gonna settle back in Gotham. Hokkaido is his home now. He loves the peaceful blue sky every morning, not a gray cloud that the polluted city of Gotham could offer him. As much as he loves the service and food Alfred could give him, he rather have to eat out of a takeout box or go out of his house and walk around and talk to the baba that gave him daikon or the jiji that asked him to drink tea and chat with him. Or to go to his part time job at the local coffee shop.

He already settled in Japan and he plans to stay there for much longer.

Tim is leaving and no one can stop him.

#tim drake #fanfic #chaotic tim drake #dcu #three weeks #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #japan

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meadowfics · 2 days ago

Text

superhero

park gyeong-seok x f!reader

the hopeful and the hopeless meet and fall in love

this is part two - part one is linked here

warnings: angst, the squid games, this has a great ending

the thought of the next game plagued your mind. when you walked into the room, there was nothing. just a spacious colorful room.

however, your eyes were drawn immediately to the floor…a rainbow-colored track, wrapped in a perfect circle, like some cruel parody of a school gym or a children's television show.

the colors were everywhere. the soft pastels and bright primaries wereall trying to make something horrifying look playful.

the robotic woman’s voice echoed through the room, clean and emotionless:

“the next game will be a six-legged pentathlon. you will be playing a series of mini games and you have to make it to the finish line before the time runs out. players have ten minutes to form teams of five.”

your heart sank.

teams.

you didn’t do teams since you didn’t do trust. you didn’t even like talking to people when you didn’t have to. your arms folded tightly across your stomach as you watched the room descend into noise.

there were men pairing up quickly, clapping each other on the back like this was recess. others were begging to be accepted into a group. some are already fighting. a few were being left behind, panicked, scrambling to not be the last one standing.

you didn’t move since you didn’t know how.

your eyes darted around, but your feet stayed planted. a familiar tension crawled into your spine…tight, and painful.

you thought maybe this was it. maybe you’d be left out then, from behind you…

“hey.”

your head snapped up, but you didn’t turn right away. it didn’t sound like someone talking to you.

“miss?”

you turned and your heart dropped straight through your ribs.

him. the man’s number being player 246.

na-yeon’s father.

you froze. your eyes widened slightly, like seeing a ghost that wasn’t supposed to be real. he looked just as stunned…like his brain hadn’t fully processed it until now like he was still trying to figure out why you were here.

the same young woman who gave his daughter joy. the one who always kept her safe.

he cleared his throat.

“do you have a team?”

you shook your head silently.

he nodded once, understanding, “we have four. need one more. please join us.”

you didn’t even hesitate.

“okay,” you said quietly.

he guided you over to the group, all strangers to you. one man looked exhausted. another was biting his nails. the woman sitting cross-legged on the floor gave you a polite nod.

you sat with them as the timer ticked down.

the list of options had been given…ddakji, biseokchigi, gonggi, paengi chigi, jegi.

“we should choose something most of us know,” someone said.

gyeong-seok…he hadn’t introduced himself, but you remembered his name from na-yeon’s ramblings about calling her dad by his real name. the man spoke, “i know gonggi,” he said, holding the pieces carefully, “used to play it with… with my kid.”

your throat tightened since you remembered.

na-yeon had made you play it with her once, using jellybeans and pebbles from the alley. she said her dad taught her. you hadn’t been very good at it, but she’d laughed so hard when you dropped every piece.

you glanced at the stones in his hand and your chest ached.

you wanted to ask so badly. you wanted to ask if she was okay, if she was getting better, if the ambulance had taken her somewhere safe. if he knew how much she meant to you but not now.

something told you that him being here meant that na-yeon was not doing okay.

“i’ll do jegi,” you said instead, voice quiet, “it’s the only game from this list that i’ve played before besides gonggi… but i am bad at that though.”

he looked over at you then, the smallest shift in his expression…curiosity, maybe or something gentler.

you didn’t meet his gaze since you just sat there, knees pulled in, heart beating louder than it should and he kept looking, just for a second too long.

after the second groups went… it was your group’s turn and the games started fast.

one by one, your teammates stepped forward with you with your ankles locked together. the track felt like it was lighting in glowing sections.. even thought it was not. each part of the rainbow felt tied to a traditional game.

the ddakji player went first. loud, chaotic. it cracked against the floor with each slap. the pressure was suffocating, but your teammate pulled through, grinning like he hadn’t in days.

next was biseokchigi. stone flicks and near-misses. still, you kept moving.

next is gonggi.

you stood on gyeong-seok’s left, nearly brushing his arm. you didn’t think he noticed the way your hands were fidgeting, fingers knotting into the hem of your jacket.

he crouched on the floor, eyes narrowed in focus.

you saw the way he handled the pieces….delicate, practicedb with no hesitation.

the stones danced in his palm, tossed mid-air before falling right back into place with perfect rhythm. one, two, three, four.

all five on his first try.

your mouth parted in surprise.

“holy shit,” one of your teammates muttered.

you blinked, and then for the first time in what felt like years you smiled as everyone around you screamed in cheers.

he looked over at you, and for a second, your eyes met you smiled a little wider. he did too.

the final game lit up in yellow. the next game came and went and suddenly jegi needed to be played. it was the last game, and your turn.

you swallowed the lump in your throat as your foot touched the line. the weighted jegi hovered above a pad, ready for your kick.

you tried not to look at the crowd, but they were everywhere. shouting, clapping, gasping.

you tapped it once, twice, then a third… but it hit your shin and rolled.

fail. the guard made sure you knew that as his arms made an “X” symbol.

your breath caught.

the clock ticked, you looked up at the time in a panic as you see that there is one minute left.

you turned, ready to tell them to pick someone else or if another player can play two games since you couldn’t do it.

“hey.”

you looked to your left.

gyeong-seok’s eyes met yours again. he is calm and grounded.

“tone them out,” he said gently, “they’re not playing the game. you are.”

you blinked at him.

“you’ve got this,” he added, softer this time.

you turned back around and breathed in.

your foot met the jegi. tap. tap. tap.

one. two. three. four. five.

you did it and the crowd made sure you knew that since they erupted.

your hands almost flew to your mouth as your chest was rising… relief flooded every corner of your body.

you barely noticed the others cheering and clapping and as your team and you run toward the finish line…

after passing the finish line, you nearly cried due to the exhaustion. the cuffs on your ankles unlocked with a heavy click and you put your hands above your forehead.. trying to catch your breath.

you stumbled slightly, legs sore, and almost didn’t register the arms wrapping around you.

the other woman on the team…your teammate…hugged you tightly, her chin pressing against your shoulder and you froze.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like it. you just… weren’t used to it.

three seconds passed before your arms moved slow, and hesitant to wrap around her back.

you hadn’t realized how much you missed being held so when she pulled away, smiling brightly, you lingered for just a second.

you wished she’d stayed longer. she thanked you again, then moved on, hugging the rest of the team.

you turned slightly just enough to glance over your shoulder. gyeong-seok was there not saying anything and not smiling. he is just watching you and his gaze stayed on you like a quiet shield.

as the five of you made your way back toward the dorms, steps heavy and bodies aching… you didn’t need to look to know he walked behind you, steady and close. he is a quiet barrier like he was already protecting you.

back in the dorms your legs were sore and your heart was still racing… but your feet carried you to the bunk directly beside 246s.

someone was already laying there. you didn’t say anything, you just stared at them with a pleading look.

they took one look at your face…drained, yet determined…and climbed down without a word, finding another bed without protest. many people switched to different beds from the ones assigned to them anyways, deciding to stick with people they trust.

you pulled yourself up and sat in the far corner, back against the metal wall. your knees were tucked into your chest, arms hugging them gently.

you didn’t speak and he didn’t either.

the space between your bunks was only a few inches, but it felt like a strange kind of comfort.

the minutes passed like that. a fight happened on the floor below between some men, one involving the purple hair guy.. but all you did was stare without reaction.

suddenly, you thought about the man’s daughter. na-yeon… you finally broke the silence.

“is she okay?”

your voice was barely a whisper but he heard you.

gyeong-seok’s head turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light.

you didn’t say her name because you didn’t need to. who else would you be talking to? he looked down at his hands for a long moment before answering.

“she has blood cancer,” he said softly, “acute lymphoblastic leukemia.”

your breath caught and you turned to face him fully now, legs folding beneath you. na-yeon never told you that she was sick, maybe she was not aware of it.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, “i… i didn’t know it was that serious.”

he nodded once slowly, “she started getting sick two months ago. she had bruising and fevers and na-yeon started to get tired all the time. i thought she was just playing too hard.” his voice cracked slightly, “i should’ve known.”

“you couldn’t have,” you said gently.

he looked at you again, “i’m here to pay for her treatment. the chemotherapy. the hospital bills. i couldn’t make enough just painting. not even close.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“i feel you.. the pay is really not enough for that. i’m sorry… she… na-yeon makes my day,” you said, “every day at work… even the days where i feel like disappearing. she just reminds me of someone i used to be before things happened…”

he blinked and you kept going.

“i work at that ice cream stand because it’s the only place that feels familiar and she’s the only one who makes it feel… warm. your daughter compliments my stupid work shirts. i think you know that she hums while she eats. she’s the reason i even bother smiling most days.”

your voice wavered.

“i want to see her again.”

you didn’t realize how much that hope had grown inside you until you said it out loud. you had hope about na-yeon being okay… you had hope for someone other than yourself.

he noticed that and he loved the way you spoke about her like she was light.

something about the way you said her name…without saying it…tugged at something buried in his chest.

you glanced at his bunk, then back at him.

“…are you here for her, not because of debt or anything?”

gyeong-seok’s voice was soft, “yes.”

you hesitated, then climbed down slowly and moved to sit beside him on his bunk.

it was quiet again but not empty.

the man’s shoulder was close. the heat of his body next to yours a reminder that despite everything, you were still here. alive. breathing. your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you risked a sideways glance.

gyeong-seok is handsome. deeply, quietly handsome. the man’s jawline was nice, his features soft with exhaustion, his eyes full of tiredness yet love for others.

the single dad was exactly your type.

you swallowed, turning your gaze forward again but you didn’t let yourself feel it… not when you weren’t even sure you deserved something soft, not when the world had hardened so much around you.

you weren’t sure you were allowed to want something good because you didn’t see the way he looked at you like you were something gentle in a world that wasn’t.

he hadn’t looked at someone this way since na-yeon’s mother died.

something in him hoped you’d stay.

however, the next game convinced you that you were fucked.

the second the robotic voice echoed through the halls of the next game…mingle…you felt it in your gut.

this was because you weren’t social. you weren’t strong in the way people admired here. you hadn’t built alliances, hadn’t whispered strategies behind backs or made promises under your breath. you only knew the people from the six-legged pentathlon and even then barely you hadn’t spoken to them since the cuffs came off.

except for him, gyeong-seok.

you’d gone to sleep each night beside his bunk, and somehow… he always stayed up. sleeping, not speaking, just watching like a guard dog with tired eyes and a too-full heart. he shouldn’t have since he needed rest and he needed strength since he had a daughter waiting.

still… something in him told him this was right and that protecting you was right but you didn’t know that.

you just knew that the longer you stayed in this game, the more everything inside you began to fray.

now, it’s mingle.

the final round is two players… you do not understand how you are still alive at this point. you’ve seen people and players kill each other, but it did not happen to you.

still… something in you sank.

you didn’t move and your head bowed. your arms were limp and you felt the air shift like it was preparing to swallow you whole. the guards nearby tensed, ready to remove the ones who didn’t belong in a room.

maybe this was your end and maybe this was when the game decided it was done with you.

suddenly, you were lifted and pulled towards a door.

a hand around your arm, firm and sudden, pulling you like your weight didn’t matter, like the floor didn’t own you anymore. your feet stumbled beneath you as you were dragged forward, heart pounding in terror. you didn’t even register who it was.

just that the world blurred, and then the blue door slammed shut behind you.

at the last second it was locked and you were in and alive.

that broke you.

your body collapsed in on itself, knees giving way as your chest caved in with the first cry.

it was ugly and messy.

the kind of cry that had been buried for far too long and when you looked up, blinking through the blur of salt it was gyeong-seok.

the man’s hands hovered for a moment before he hesitantly reached forward, pulling you into him and you let him.

your cheek pressed against his chest, his arms winding around your back, holding you like something fragile. something worth cradling. you cried into him…everything coming out at once. the loss, the numbness, the fact that your life had been nothing but survival.

you didn’t know why life kept keeping you alive and you didn’t know what it was trying to prove but here you were being held and seen. you felt safe too, just for a second.

you remembered the shaman’s words on the first night after the first game.

“you’re here to learn. to be stripped down. to see yourself.”

maybe she was right because right now, for the first time in so long you didn’t feel invisible.

gyeong-seok didn’t say anything, he just held you. his hand curled gently at the back of your neck, thumb tracing the edge of your hairline. his other hand settled against your ribs as his arm was wrapped around you… grounding you, steadying you.

the man’s own tears came slow and silent. he hadn’t been held since na-yeon. no arms had wrapped around him like this since na-yeon was put in the hospital.

you were the only other person his daughter had adored and the only other person who gave her something real. maybe that mattered and maybe that meant something.

maybe this game, this nightmare, brought you both together not to break… but to begin and in that glowing blue room…surrounded by color, trembling with emotion…two broken people held each other like something beautiful might still grow from the pieces and it would.

—

six days later:

you still don’t understand how you made it out alive.

sometimes you wake up expecting to hear that robotic voice and to feel cold cuffs on your ankles and to taste dust and blood in the back of your throat.

instead, you wake up to quiet…. and money.

a number in your bank account so high, you stared at the screen for minutes before believing it.

they split the prize between five of the remaining alive players. five people who walked out of that place alive.

you and gyeong-seok were two of them.

the thing is that you weren’t in debt and you never were but the game gave you something different. it did not give redemption or not purpose. it gave you a reset.

a hard, painful reset that showed you what rock bottom really felt like and somehow, coming out the other side… you understood.

there was always worse but now there could be better, too.

you used the money to breathe again.

you moved out of your crumbling apartment and got a small nice penthouse. it was something warm and something that was yours.

you didn’t buy a car or take a vacation…. you bought new socks and a new sweater.

you bought a small plant and placed it by your window and you started making breakfast in the mornings.

when you talked to gyeong-seok, it never felt like you were talking to someone from the game.

he is home.

gyeong-seok’s money went where it always needed to go…na-yeon.

the little girl’s treatments, specialists, therapy. a new apartment with sunlight and clean walls.

she was doing better, slowly.

you hadn’t seen her yet but today you would.

the subway rocked gently beneath you as you sat beside him, your black sweater hugging your frame. you had on jeans, boots, your hair down.

there is no number stitched to your chest and no blood under your nails.

he sat beside you, in black plaid and worn jeans, his hand in yours.

you’d both been quiet for most of the ride but it wasn’t awkward.

your head rested on his shoulder and his fingers rubbed slow, invisible circles into your palm.

you weren’t rushing anything with him.

that was the agreement. you were focused on her…on na-yeon.

still… you weren’t going anywhere and he was not either… the both of you knew that.

just like you knew that when he looked at you now, it wasn’t just because you’d survived something awful together.

it was because you were the girl who gave his daughter her favorite mornings. you were the woman who held his hand like he was someone worth staying for and he was the man who pulled you out of death’s doorway when you knocked on it, just to make sure you could cry safely in his arms.

whatever this was… it was yours.

in an half an hour later… the hospital smelled like lemon cleaner and quiet hope.

you walked the halls slowly, your hand still in gyeong-seok’s. he hadn’t said much since getting off the subway. he didn’t need to since you could feel it in his grip, in the way his thumb brushed your knuckles every few seconds…like he was reminding himself that his daughter will actually be getting her treatment.

the door to her room was at the end of the hallway. it had a little paper taped to it with her name written in neat handwriting and soft stickers lining the corners.

na-yeon.

your stomach twisted with emotion.

gyeong-seok looked at you.

“you ready?” he asked softly.

you nodded, “i should be asking you that.”

gyeong-seok smiled lightly before he opened the door. there na-yeon was, small and bright-eyed, sitting upright in her bed with a coloring book in her lap and a knit strawberry hat on her head.

the little girl’s cheeks were rounder than you remembered. the girl’s skin is a little paler, but her smile…

“unnie?”

your heart broke and reassembled all in one breath.

you didn’t realize you were crying until she threw the coloring book to the side and lifted her arms toward you. you rushed to her, bending down, letting her wrap herself around your neck like she always did.

“unnie! i knew you’d come! daddy said you were coming, but i didn’t believe him,” she whispered fast, breathless against your shoulder.

you held her like the world could fall apart and it wouldn’t matter because she was in your arms again.

“you’re here,” you breathed, voice shaking, “you’re really here.”

she pulled back and looked at you, eyes scanning your face like she was checking if you were a dream.

“you smell the same,” she said with a serious little nod, “like strawberries and sugar. i miss it.”

you laughed, wiping a tear off your cheek, “i missed you more, superstar.”

gyeong-seok stood to the side, watching silently, his eyes glassy but full. he hadn’t seen her this happy in so long.

na-yeon glanced over at him, then back at you.

“i’m getting new bones today,” she announced, patting her chest, “the doctor said it’ll make me stronger like a superhero. are you gonna stay until after?”

you nodded, holding her hand, “i’m not going anywhere.”

she beamed and you felt her pulse through your fingers. fragile, yes… but steady.

gyeong-seok walked over, gently brushing a hand over his daughter’s hair.

“we’re both staying,” he said, looking at her, then at you.

your eyes met as she started talking about the colors she’d used in her drawings and how hospital food tasted like rubber, you sat beside her with your hand still in hers, tears still drying on your cheek.

you had hope for once… real, breathing, full hope.

—

six months passed and the days got longer and lighter and easier.

na-yeon was getting better. you watched it happen day by day. the color returning to her cheeks, the bounce coming back into her walk, the way her laughter filled rooms again.

the little girl’s hair was growing back and her appetite doubled. she started waking up excited again. it was like watching the sun rise every morning.

sometimes you’d catch yourself staring at her, still in disbelief that the little girl from the amusement park, the one with the strawberry hat and the sparkliest eyes you’d ever seen had changed your entire life because it was her who brought you to him.

gyeong-seok.

the man who never left your side.

the one who pulled you from the edge of a closing door, who held you while you cried and didn’t ask you to explain it. the one who kissed your forehead before bed, who brewed your favorite tea without asking, who loved you with gentleness like he had always been waiting to.

you were happy, truly, deeply happy and it scared you sometimes but mostly… it made you want to hold on tighter.

today, the three of you sat together in the living room. the windows were open, the late spring breeze dancing through the curtains. na-yeon sat on the floor, doodling with markers, while you and gyeong-seok exchanged quiet smiles over mugs of tea.

he nudged you gently and you smiled.

“hey, superhero,” you called softly.

she looked up, eyes lighting up instantly, “hmm?”

you glanced at gyeong-seok, then back at her.

“can we tell you something?”

she sat up straighter, nodding seriously like she was about to be given a secret mission.

you tried not to laugh as you said, “your daddy and i… we’re together… we love each other.”

na-yeon’s jaw dropped.

for a second she just stared then she squealed, launching to her feet and jumping in place like the floor was made of trampolines.

“i knew it!” she shrieked, “i knew it i knew it i knew it!!!”

you and gyeong-seok burst into laughter, your cheeks already aching from how wide you were smiling. she flopped onto the couch beside you, grabbing your arm.

“but wait… do you still love me more?”

you gasped dramatically, “what kind of question is that?”

she giggled.

you scooped her up into your arms, twirling her once before cradling her tightly against your chest.

“of course i love you more,” you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “i met you first, remember?”

she giggled harder, hugging your neck with her little arms.

gyeong-seok watched you both, heart full in a way he never thought possible. this was his family now and as you sat there with na-yeon in your lap, both of you laughing, and he beside you, his arm resting gently along the back of the couch…you realized you weren’t just happy, you were home.

—-

everyone knows that healing is never a straight line. you and gyeong-seok learned that together.

some nights were heavy with memory. you’d both jolt awake from different dreams but still end up holding each other under the covers, breathing slow and quiet in the dark. some mornings, you’d find him staring at na-yeon a little too long, like he still couldn’t believe she was here and you… you’d still find yourself crying in the shower without always knowing why.

though, it got better because you made it better.

you went to therapy together, you cooked together, and you laughed during laundry and danced in the kitchen even when there was no music. you built a life in the small things… matching mugs, a soft rug, a fridge covered in na-yeon’s doodles and crooked magnets.

love lived in all of it and two years later, after dinner one quiet evening, it bloomed into something even bigger.

he had made your favorite meal.

you’d eaten barefoot at the kitchen table, candles flickering between you. the radio had played softly in the background, some old ballad that neither of you knew the words to. na-yeon was asleep in her room since it was pretty late.

after dinner, you were still giggling about something he said, your fingers brushing his as you stood to clean up the dishes when he stopped you.

“wait,” he said, voice low.

you turned.

he held a small velvet box in his hand.

you froze and your heart leapt so high it nearly knocked the air out of you.

“i figured that you didn’t want this to happen in a flashy way,” he murmured, “not after everything. not after what we’ve lived through and i just… i wanted this to be us. quiet. real. home.”

your lip trembled as he opened the box.

inside was a ring, simple, beautiful, soft gold with a small oval diamond set perfectly in the center.

“marry me,” he said, “stay with me. for the rest of whatever time we’re given.”

you didn’t even answer at first.

you nodded, over and over, tears slipping down your cheeks before you whispered a choked-out

“yes, yes yes!”

he slipped the ring on your finger, and you could barely see through your tears.

it wasn’t until later…when you were sitting with him on the couch, curled up beneath a shared blanket…that you called the sleepy na-yeon into the room.

“look,” you whispered, holding out your hand, “he asked me to marry him.”

na-yeon gasped, eyes wide, tiny hands flying to her face.

“you’re getting married to my dad?!” she squealed, bouncing once on the balls of her feet.

you nodded, smiling through tears but then she did something that made you pause.

she leaned in closer, inspecting the ring then she beamed.

“i picked that one!”

your brows raised, blinking, “what?”

you turned to look at gyeong-seok, who smiled with a soft shrug.

“she was with me,” he said, “i wanted her to help.”

you nearly broke and your hand flew to your mouth, eyes glassing over again.

it was too much… too good.

you reached for na-yeon, pulling her into your lap, hugging her close. she giggled and hugged you back, arms wrapped around your waist. gyeong-seok leaned in beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple as you held the little girl in your arms.

you had never felt so loved in your entire life.

—-

there was something you and gyeong-seok wanted to do before na-yeon’s seventh birthday.

you’d talked about it quietly in bed, whispered it between soft kisses and held hands. you were already going to marry him and you were already helping raise her, loving her, tucking her in at night.

however, this was something that made it real.

na-yeon had already started calling you mom. the first time it happened, you nearly stopped breathing.

you’d been braiding her hair for school, and she dropped it into the air like it was the most natural thing, “mom, can you tie it with the pink one?”

you froze and you didn’t even answer for a second but when you looked at her, she was just smiling, waiting for you to finish like it was normal… like it wasn’t the most sacred word you’d ever been called.

you didn’t correct her, you just tied the braid with the pink band and kissed the crown of her head. the more she said it, the more it bloomed inside your chest.

now you weren’t just going to be her stepmother but you were going to be her mother.

fully, legally, completely and the thought of that made your chest ache in the softest way.

you thought about the old days about the amusement park. the smell of sugar and popcorn, the pastel colors of the counter, her little hands smudging the display glass.

you thought about the strawberry hat, the tiny plastic spoons, her laugh echoing in your ears when you snuck her a swirl of superman ice cream too early in the morning.

you would have never guessed, never dreamed, that the little girl who wandered into your store alone would one day become your step-daughter but here you were.

you got the papers finalized and signed everything. you and gyeong-seok made it official and when you came home, he gave you the space to tell her yourself.

you sat beside her on the couch, knees touching, her favorite plushie in her lap. your hand found hers.

“na-yeon,” you said softly.

she looked up at you, eyes big and open.

you smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“today, something special happened,” you said, “something i’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

she tilted her head, “what is it?”

you gently squeezed her hand.

“i got to become your mom,” you whispered, “not just because you call me that. not just because i love you like one but because now…officially, legally…i am your mom.”

she blinked and she smiled.

a smile so pure, so wide, so radiant it cracked you open.

“really?” she asked, voice full of wonder.

you nodded, tears already starting to slip down your cheeks.

“really. i might not be your biological mom, and i will never try to replace her, but i promise i will love you and be here for you always.”

she dropped the plushie and launched herself into your arms.

“mom!” she cried, burying her face in your neck, “you’re really my mom!”

your arms wrapped around her so tight you feared you might crush her but you couldn’t let go. not yet.

your tears soaked into her shoulder, silent but endless.

you were hers and she was yours.

“i love you, mom,” she whispered.

you held her tighter, your voice cracking as you whispered back, “i love you too, superhero. more than anything.”

you didn’t let go for a long time because some love is too big to let slip away and now you never had to.

masterlist

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