#the only bright side here is that there will be a comment period

[tweedfrog]

[st4rbwrry]

𝒟𝑅𝐼𝐹𝒯𝐼𝒩’ 𝒩 𝒦𝐼𝒮𝒮𝐼𝒩’.

✧｡˚ eren’s over just being your best friend.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 8.7k fem!reader, lowercase intended, girly girl reader, friends who rlly like each other, smoking, drifting, fluffy scenes, eren is super soft for reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, car festivities, kissing, neck biting, bits of roughness, multiple orgasms + overstimulation, choking, ass hits, cunnilingus, daddy kink, pet names ex. ꒰ baby, pretty, luv. ꒱ , praise, sub/dom, thicq!reader, goofy loving cutesy shit, minors do not interact! comments & reblogs are appreciated.

"i'm outside."

why is that text always terrifying to receive? it's the quickest way to make your heart fall to your ass in milliseconds. you can't help but roll your eyes and suck your teeth because he's too early, or maybe you were too late. it's only nine thirty so you're confused why he's here already. dropping the puffy makeup brush in your hand, you stand up from your brightly lit royal vanity with intricate carvings in the pearl-toned wood. slipping your painted white toes into a pair of hot pink teddy bear slides to make your way out of your bedroom and towards the front door for this asshole. 

eren gets smacked in the face with your prettiness the minute you open your door, smelling like marshmallows and looking like a fucking bratz doll. your beauty stuns him every time. the six-foot-three man before you rests his weight against the wall on the outside, one arm stretched above as he leans over you with a wicked smile on his deadly gorgeous face. he's wearing a white graphic tee with pink graffiti spray painted on reading killer alongside a lavender nissan 350z. it's old merch connie was testing for his line. he also makes eren's shirts for his auto shop. 

eren's also attired in black slim jeans and beat up 550 new balances, his signature racing shoes. his silver chain on his neck dangling as he kisses your forehead, the move so slick. you've noticed he liked to touch you a lot, give little indications of affection. kissing your hand, your cheek, your face overall. he grabbed your ass a lot, and it's so excessive you have to give him a hard swat and a death glare to actually make him stop. 

"hello, eren," the way you say it has annoyance laced in it. turning away from him and walking away with that salacious sway your hips have. eren tongues his inner cheek, chuckling as he enters your home and shuts the door. he forgets how quick you walk, literally speed walking to your room since by the time he gets there you're already back on your powdered white tufted ottoman doing your makeup. riiverdance by beyoncé plays softly from the small speaker you kept on your windowsill so the music travels better. 

"damn, i can't get no kiss? you fussy with me already." eren remarks, looking below him to see the fluffy black cat brushing up against his leg, scooping her up with one hand and petting her as he takes a seat on your bed. 

"no. . aht aht! outside clothes, off the bed!" you're snapping your fingers at him as if he's your cat, eren swiftly raising his ass off your bed, blinking slow. 

"where am i supposed to sit, woman?" 

"the floor like always."

"tryna get cat hair on my shit," eren sucks his teeth, sinking down to the ground and groaning when your cat scrambles to get out of his hold, never liked being touched for long periods of time. 

"you literally decided to pick her up knowing you're wearing white. that's your fault." 

you were right but he couldn't resist holding her. that's his daughter. he's not giving you the satisfaction of being right though. manspreading, eren cocks his head to the side to watch you closely. you can see his entire reflection in your mirror, quickly glancing his way and ignoring the way he slowly licks his lips and knocks his legs in and out, unbeknownst to you, to chill his dick. 

"so fuckin' gorgeous," eren smiles, those bright white teeth making you wanna fold immediately. eren loved watching you do your makeup. eyes softening for you. he found it so mesmerizing. you surely didn't need it but it made you happy so it makes him happy. "you wearin' that white on your waterline like i like. that jus' f'me?"

you pucker your lips. "mhm, nah. i just like it. i do nothing for your gratification."

"ouch," eren holds his tatted hand to his chest, shock overcoming his features. "keep hurtin' my feelings like that 'n your ass won't have a ride tonight. or no food."

that last line alarms you more than anything. one thing you didn't play about, and he knows this especially. . . is your hunger. you honestly haven't eaten much all day. working a shift at the hospital and only having a salad on your break wasn't filling at all. you all talked in your group chat about how saturday's the perfect day to go drifting tonight and grab some chinese at your favorite restaurant in town. your check hadn't hit yet but eren being him since he likes you so damn much offered to pay for you. you declined, as usual, but he didn't give a fuck about what you said, you were coming either way. to be honest, he missed your little sweet ass. a lot. you've been working mostly overnight shifts, being a SPT wasn't for the weak. and he's been busy at the shop fixing and selling cars. your days apart, aside from texting and facetiming made him want to be in your presence. he felt complete with you. you had to know that.

"if you gonna play with me about my food then ima just head to bed right now and starve," you basically threaten him. eren hated when you don't eat enough, makes dumb jokes about how you'll 'lose those thick ass hips of yours.' the boy will make it his mission to grab you something quick. he's your food and weed dealer. also your personal chauffeur, absolutely loving when you're his passenger princess.

"don't be fuckin’ dramatic, brat. i'm playin'. you know i got you," he stands back to his feet to come by you, pressing his midsection to your backside, where you can also feel the outline of his dick, trying your best to ignore the way it makes your face heat up. teasingly, he starts sliding his warm hands over your shoulders and down to your waist. cautiously, you eye him, having a hot wave of panic hit you when he begins tickling your left side. your most sensitive side, mind you. you screech and twist your body into a curling position trying to escape his attack. 

"eren! get the fuck off me, bro!" he's laughing hard at your attempt to twist and yank away from his grasp, screeching and biting his arm which he flinches from and moves away. 

“oww, fuckin’ gremlin,” he hisses dramatically, as if you’d stabbed him. “next time smile when you see me at that fuckin' door. gimme a 'hey, daddy' with it, too. it'll make my dick jump."

"your dick jumps for me enough."

eren’s eyes meets yours in the reflection of your vanity mirror. he shrugs nonchalantly, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“well,” he begins, dragging the word out as he takes a step closer to you again. “you wanna see it?” 

you roll your eyes, his voice dropping lower, becoming more intense as he continues. “know you wanna see it again.” 

“says who?” you raise your brow, testing him. 

by again, he means accidentally when he was showering at your place and forgot to grab his boxers before he went inside your bathroom, thinking you were sleep when you were in fact up reading on your phone. wanting to laugh at the memory of him turning red in the face and trying his best to shield his dick with his hands. making a snide comment about how badly you wanted to stare at it. 

“you heard me,” he states simply, his gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. he's leaning directly over you, forehead nearly touching yours. his presence is overwhelming, filling the small room with his raw masculinity. this is a regular thing by the way. his constant teasing. waiting for you to let up. 

“okay, daddy,” you grin mischievously.

“mhm,” he kisses his teeth, and at the same moment his phone vibrates in his pocket. eren fishes for it, checking a text from connie. 

"connie’s outside, you done?” 

“you rushing me now? i don’t like this rennie tonight,” you tsk, shaking your finger like a disappointment mother. standing to your feet, you brush out the curls in your head by running your fingertips through them. 

you do look so pretty tonight. wearing an oversized pink greenbay packers jersey with a flowy white mini skirt, eren watching as you enter your walk in closet to fish for some white socks to scrunch at your ankle, and the same pair of sneakers he currently wore. my little twin. 

“sorry, i’ll be on my best behavior.” 

you smile, standing on your tiptoes and pinching his cheek, eren liking the view a bit too much, trying to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you close. “such a good boy. now, let’s go!” 

“wait, i want a kiss, wife,” eren smiled, trying to lean in before you pull away and shove your hand in his face. 

“leave me alone, pervert!” 

connie’s goal tonight was to show off the enhancements he added to his neon green scion frs, the car humming outside of your house when you go to say hello to him. he mentions that he’s going to swing by to pick up his girlfriend before he meets the two of you there. she didn’t live too far so he was able to make it before you two did, eren always having to make a mental note not to drive like a dickhead when you’re in the car. knowing your nerves are bad. they’ve gotten slightly better though since you’re with him all the time. 

you loved drift meet up’s because it was a free car show to see all the cool ass cars, most of the models popular in japan. men and women in groups drinking and bumping music as they interact. it’s illegal as hell where you live but sometimes everyone’s able to get away with it if they don’t act too much like jackasses. this spot was mostly secluded from open roads or police. 

eren walks alongside you, his arm loosely draped around your shoulders as you both make your way  to the forefront where cars currently span in action. his car wasn’t parked too far, planning on performing a show himself in a little. the adrenaline pumping through the crowd as drivers send their vehicles skidding around corners and spinning donuts in the dirt your favorite, and his. connie arrives not too long after, eren going up to talk to him before you’re locked in, excited for him. 

“i need to teach you how to drift one of these days. i gotta see your pretty ass behind a nissan 240sx or sum,” he says, pulling you closer into his side so you can hear him over the noise. 

“that’s specific,” you laugh, looking up at him while chewing your gum, rocking with him. 

eren grins down at you, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. “what can i say? i have a type.” 

“you sure do,” your voice trails off, focused on connie’s loud car screeching and swinging before the crowd around you. cheers vibrating your ears like a concert. the feeling like a movie. you don’t notice that eren keeps his eyes on you the whole time, admiring you as you jump, clap, and scream from excitement. pulling your phone out to record your friend. 

removing yourself from his arm, you notice the cars currently in the circle beginning to depart and make way for others. “con’s!”

eren shakes his head as he watches you bolt towards connie’s car, jumping up and down like a kid, bending low to give him a high five. “that was fucking awesome!” 

“yeah, fuck with me!” he continues to slap his palm with yours. you look over to his girlfriend in the passenger seat, reaching over to twinkle fingers. 

“hey girly!” luna smiles, tucking her long dark hair behind her ear since it blew everywhere from the wind. 

“hiii!” you giggle. 

“shit was good, i taught you well,” eren approaches, their heavy hands interacting, shaking before snapping their fingers. 

“yea, whatever. you always want full credit, asshole,” connie sucks his teeth. 

“oh my god, we should totally drift each other!” luna suggests. connie whips his head in her direction. 

“wha—who said you driving my car?” connie blinks, flabbergasted. 

luna goes to hit his arm playfully. “cabrona, i meant she can get in the car with eren and yall do yall lil’ thingy thing.” 

“oooo, yayyy!” you approve instantly, clapping your hands together and turning to eren with puppy eyes. “oh, please?! i wanna shotgun!” 

“be my guest, sweetheart. but don’t try to hang your head out the window again like a damn dog, or else,” his voice drops low, a warning lacing his words as he gives you a knowing look.

“mhm, i make no promises,” you wink, racing towards his car. 

connie laughs at eren’s strained face, his friend knowing deep down he loved it. connie knew a lot you didn’t know. like the fact that eren’s madly in love with you, and has been ever since freshman year of high school. it’s not secret to anyone, really.  as eren approaches his parked car you bounced impatiently beside, he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb in before walking over to the driver's seat. the interior of his black r34 gtr is pristine, everything from the leather seats to the carbon fiber accents shining under the sunlight. you loved when he picked you up just to take you for a ride. he works on cars practically all day given he owns an auto shop, detailing and adding enhancements being his daily thing.

he’s getting his hands dirty and his mind fried from mechanical work. he customized this car to make it his own, his name written in japanese on the right corner of front window, a front spoiler splitter, apexi gt specthe which makes his exhaust sound like fucking gunshots, which terrifies you. on top of detailing the body of the car with giant dragons painted silver on either side of the vehicle. standing out to the crowd uniquely. 

eren makes his way inside of the vehicle, big hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts his legs in his seat, your eyes locking there momentarily before he inserts his key into the ignition, firing up the extremely loud engine. an anxious smile shows on your face once you see everyone yelling over the power of his car, having been in it a million times, you still hated the sound, triggering your sensory overload. but, you loved the thrill. swallowing, you turn to him, balling up his shirt on his hip to grab his attention. 

“promise me you’ll be safe,” you look up at him, worried.

a soft smile tugs at his lips as he sees the concern in your eyes. he reaches out, brushing a stray curl of hair from your face with his thumb. “don't worry, princess. i'll take care of both you and my baby here.” 

“i’m trusting you,” you whisper, biting your lip. “don’t hit anybody, i don’t need you going to jail. and please don’t hit connie, because he will kill you if you fuck up his car.” 

eren smirks, his hand dropping from your face to gently cradle the back of your neck. his grip is firm yet tender. “now why’d i risk traumatizing my girl like that?” 

you suck your teeth and pull away from him, crossing your arms. he only sets his hand on your thigh now, and you let him. “aren’t you going to start driving?” 

eren laughs heartily, his hand tightening around your thigh as he does. he revs the engine, feeling the power beneath them rumble in anticipation. his eyes flash dangerously in the dim light of the cars. “promise me something, too?” 

“what?”

“we’ll finish playing mommy and daddy when we get home?” he grins. 

“oh please, you know you can’t handle me,” you tease. such a bad habit you two have. joking too damn much. but by this point, from his end especially, you’re aware none of it is a joke. 

eren raised a brow, feeling threatened. “oh, i can’t?” 

“nope. and you’re too scared to admit it,” you taunt, fluttering a kiss in his direction. 

“mhm,” eren kisses his teeth, he gives a curt nod, as if making a mental note. “ima hold you to that.” 

“drive the damn car, eren.” 

ignoring the warmth in your chest from his flirting, he finally shifts the car into gear. with a roar of the engine, he accelerates onto the street, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. malice at the palace by BONES is bumping through the stereo system as eren expertly maneuvers his car around the road, each turn and drift executed with precision. the sound of the engine reverberating through the car sends a rush of adrenaline through him. you hated to admit how fucking good he looked right now, your hand gripping onto his bicep as you giggle each time he executes a perfect drift, tires screeching, watching connie’s car across from his spin around each other. part of him hopes to impress you. and clearly he has by the huge smile on your face. you’re like a kid in a candy shop, eyes lit up. 

“i’m doing it!” you yell, eren watching as you climb up on your seat, skirt rising from the wind blowing, your ass hanging out making his eyes go wide. 

“꒰♡꒱, sit your ass down.”

“woo!” it’s too late, now you’re banging the palm of your hand on the outside of the door, staring at others who hollered back at you, your curls flying in the wind. the people screaming and cheering louder the more you raised your upper body outside of the window, being sure to secure yourself. eren’s hand instinctively clutch onto your ankle. 

“goddamit,” he groans, but couldn’t help the feeling in his heart from your pure laughter. you’re enjoying yourself, that makes him happy. but your safety is important. given that, he slows down just enough so that it feels safe for you not to jolt and fall out of the car. despite your reckless act, he couldn’t help but marvel at how fearless you truly are.

connie’s car slides vertically next to eren’s, taking your chance to reach out and graze your fingers with luna’s as she leans her body outside of the window like you do, the two of you screaming like fans of your favorite superstar. the adrenaline pumping through your veins is exhilarating. 

eren’s hitting on the brakes, causing the tires to yell and the car to skid sideways. with a swift move of his foot on the gas pedal, eren launches his car into a perfect 360-degree spin. the car gracefully arcs around its axis before smoothly coming back onto its original trajectory, all done. the world outside blurs into a whirlwind of colors and shapes as you scream into the wind, lowering your body to take your seat in your original position. 

“that was sooo fun!” the sound you make is the cutest, giggling and bouncing your legs, full of energy now. he adores the glint in your eyes, but he also couldn’t hide the upset on his face. 

“i’m sure. next time, listen to me when i say don’t hang your body halfway out the fucking car. you’ve never done that before, what if you flew out?” the sudden change in his tone takes you aback. 

“i can take care of myself,” you retort, your defiant words making him clench his jaw. 

“not saying you can’t. i’m telling you don’t be so fuckin’ reckless,” his hand moves from the steering wheel to smooth down his face, keeping himself calm, despite the current situation being anything but serene. he doesn’t mean to ruin your mood. surely didn’t want to cause an argument. he just needed you to understand where he was coming from. “don’t die trying to show off.” 

“don’t die trying to protect me.” 

“꒰♡꒱ . . cut that big girl shit, seriously.” 

“aren’t we meeting our friends to get food? let’s go.” 

connie did mention they’d be grabbing food right after, eren clenching his jaw and pulling his attention away from you. he tries not to keep you at these events for too long, sometimes things get rowdy and guns are drawn and he wouldn’t allow either of you to be around that. shifting his car back into drive, he pulls away from the scene to trail behind connie. you hated the current silence of the car, picking up your phone to distract yourself from any conversation. as you pull up next to your group, onyankopon popping up a minute after, eren kills the engine and opens his door with ease. he rounds the car, opening the door for you. you give a quiet ‘thanks’ before speed walking away to luna. eren sighs deeply, sucking his teeth and locking his car, pulling a puff bar from his pocket and leaning against his vehicle to calm himself for a minute. 

“you okay? you look sad?” luna frowns as she holds your hand, ready to cross the street to enter the chinese restaurant. 

you make an awkward expression, not really wanting to make it a big deal. “nothing, i’m just hungry! also kind of have a headache from the whiplash.” 

glancing beside you, you see eren approaching onyankopon, shoving his keys into his pocket while simultaneously colliding their hands for a handshake, hearing the small ‘yo, wassup’ from the pair before you turn your head away, luna pulling you along with her. the five of you find a booth inside of the almost empty restaurant given its close to closing, being one o’clock in the morning and all. you take the time to catch up with luna since she’s been busy with esthetician classes and try your best to avoid eren . . even if he’s sitting directly next to you. this act can only go for so long before the two of you catch glances repeatedly, still making little interactions with the group together if you had to. you didn’t want everyone knowing that you two had a small fight. was it really a fight? you were fine, at least that’s what you liked to tell yourself. 

time passes and onyankopon is the first to leave, mentioning he has to get up early for work and saying his goodbyes. that leaves luna and connie to cuddle up next to one another in the booth, your eyes studying the way his arm is draped around her shoulder while he listens intently on everything she says, bopping her nose with his finger as she giggles cutely. you smile faintly, looking down at the food you’re playing with at this point with your chopsticks. 

eren glances at you as he finishes his plate, a finger pressed to his temple as he leans his elbow on the table. you feel his glare, turning his way to see what he wanted. his eyes holding a certain intensity that only you seem to understand. “come take a ride with me.” 

you continue to fiddle with your chopsticks, swallowing air. “where are we going?” 

“i need to talk to you about something.” 

you’ve dreaded this. unsure of what was going to come from him when you two were alone. you’re not sure if he’s still mad about earlier, his reaction when luna brought up your car moment laced with irritation, like he wanted nothing to do with it. honestly, there was nothing more to talk about. he knows you don’t like confrontation, so you hoped he wouldn’t make an entire conversation about why he feels the way he does. a simple apology should’ve sufficed. the anxiety is pumping through you now, wanting to groan from his seriousness. one thing you’ve learned about eren was that he was big on communication. if something bothered him or he felt like certain things needed to be talked about, he’d take that chance to fix it. when he’s serious about something, it gave you goosebumps. 

his gaze lingers on yours, the flickering candlelight on the table casting an enchanting glow on his features. you swallow, nodding. “okay.” 

“we’re gonna go,” you grab the couples attention across the booth, connie and luna sitting up the moment you and eren stand. 

“awe, okay boo! it was nice seeing y’all,” luna waves to both of you. eren’s patting his pocket for his keys, pulling out his wallet to set cash on the table for the both of you. 

eren smiles. “you too, love. i’ll see you tomorrow, con.” 

“bet, see you. y’all be safe.” 

the car shifts into gear and pulls out onto the quiet street, the sound of heavy wind encasing the vehicle the only thing you could hear, blurring out the world. eren drove possibly fifteen minutes to a spot only the two of you go to. it’s secluded, parked under a giant tree in a grass field high on a hill that overlooked the city night. it’s surely a romantic destination. the two of you go here whenever you need to rant about life or just escape. it’s been your spot since high school. the slow melody of rnb fills the interior, creating an intimate atmosphere. the two of you sit for a moment, eren fishing for his puff bar to take a few passes before you finally say something. 

“can i?” you ask, voice an almost hushed whisper. gesturing towards the object. 

“yeah,” he’s handing it your way, clearing his throat before leaning back into his seat, smoothing both hands down his thighs before adjusting comfortably, closing his eyes momentarily. 

eren takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “lemme start by saying i’m not mad at you.” 

you blink, shifting your body so all of your attention is on him so he feels important. you tend to stare off into nothingness during these moments. 

“yes, are you stubborn as fuck and it pisses me off at times? absolutely. you know when it comes to you, shit like that makes me anxious. i have that urge to protect you, and it’s always been like that. so don’t think i’m being immature by wanting to care for your safety. i know you’re grown, and you carry yourself well. but sometimes i need for you to just listen when i get gut feelings about shit.” 

“i know, and i apologize,” you reply almost instantly, the thought being on your mind the entire dinner, but unable to let the words pass. “i do appreciate how you care for me. i was just having fun and didn’t want my mood to be ruined. it was dangerous, anything could’ve happened.” 

despite his uncertainty, there's no denying the sincerity in his gaze; a raw vulnerability that contrasts sharply against his usual confident demeanor. struggling to say what’s really on his mind at the moment. “you still have that bad habit of never wanting to be corrected.” 

“yeah,” you lower your head to your thighs, fiddling with the fabric of your skirt. “still working on it. i tend to be too aggressive when i want to be right.” 

“i’m glad you understand. but, that’s not what i wanted to talk to you about.” 

you look up. “what is it? did something happen?” 

eren takes another deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to reveal. his gaze never leaving yours as he prepares to lay his heart bare. “look . . i’m g’na be straightforward with you. i don’t need you to take this as something that has to be figured out immediately. i’ll give you the time and space you need to think on it if you’re feeling the opposite. but. .”

his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutinizing stare. it’s clear that whatever he's about to say is far from easy for him. he’s scaring you. “me and you, we been close since kids. i have love for you for life, but i need you to know that it’s been hard just being your friend. my emotions are consuming me, and being around you all the time is only making it more difficult. i see myself being with you, being in love with you. . for a long time now.” 

the confession hangs heavy in the air between you both; raw and vulnerable, yet undeniably true. his heart pounds loudly in his chest as he waits for your reaction, bracing himself for either acceptance or rejection. either way, he’d stand by what he felt. and if you didn’t feel the same, it would hurt, but he would respect your boundaries. you’re unsure why you’re not . . surprised? he’s always been extremely affectionate with you, much more than a best friend should be. wasn’t necessarily fond of seeing you with other men or hearing about who you slept with. you told each other everything. had sleepovers. shared beds, and at times when you fell asleep before him, he’d brush a finger along your cheek and admired your beauty. 

"my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewife that gets to stay home and do whatever you want. shit, start your own business. i'll pay for it all. i'll take care of you. i want you to myself, always. never wanna leave you. wanna get your name tatted on me. kiss you all day. cuddle, watch your favorite movies and shitty supernatural tv shows. run you bubble baths 'n fuck you real good every time i come home. buy you that wolf gray kia k5 with pink interior you've been wantin'. send you on vacations. buy you all the sanrio plushies in the fuckin' world. want you to be mine, ꒰♡꒱."

" eren. . . "

"i'll even learn how to cook for you, princess. 'n you know i'm bad as fuck at that shit," eren chuckles, raking his fingers through your hair. you laugh with him, tears in your eyes. "but i'll learn for you so i can always make you some authentic udon ramen or birria tacos, all that good shit you love. cause you're my girl 'n you deserve it all."

eren's hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. his fingers trace small circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his touch is gentle yet possessive. a tangible manifestation of the love he's been harboring for you. each stroke of his fingertips against your body feels like an exploration, a journey into the depths of your being that only he has access to.

“talk to me,” he bites his lip, lips nearly brushing your own, unable to help the pure attraction towards you. it’s stronger than ever right now. 

“i feel the same way,” you lean in, moaning from his touch, his hands on you all the time, though somehow now they make you weaker. “i just didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

eren’s breath hitches, a combination of shock and relief consuming him. “why the fuck would you think that?” 

your shoulders shrug shyly. “i don’t know,” your voice drags quietly. “sometimes shit like that doesn’t work for everybody. and we have a great friendship. i didn’t want us being together to fuck up the vibe.” 

“we not everyone,” he states, brushing a curl from your pretty face. “and we act like we date anyways. wouldn’t be no different.”

you recepriocate the act, brushing a few brown strands of hair that fell in front of his face, locking eyes before your lips press against his in feverish kiss. his tongue parts your lips, exploring the warm cavern of your mouth with a passionate intensity. his hands roam freely over your body now, one tracing delicate patterns on your lower back while the other slips beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin underneath. every touch is filled with desire and longing, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. the heat in your face blows higher, as if the ache to kiss him was a distant dream. to finally taste him was something you hadn’t known you needed. both of your hearts are pounding in your chests, every beat echoing the intensity of your feelings for each other. 

“you have no idea,” he whispers huskily, pecking your lips. you moan, body melting into his touch. you could slip through his fingers like puddy, this center console blocking you. “how much i want you.” 

“show me then.” 

eren’s eyes darken with desire. his hands slide down to grip your ass, climbing over the console to reach for the recliner on your seat, your flushed face heating up from the close proximity, his hair brush along the apples of your cheek, his smell intoxicating. you giggle when he goes to remove the headrest of the chair, banging his hand into the seat so it’s completely flat and you’re resting on your back. eren hovers completely over you, bringing his body to the passenger side, squeaking when you feel his hardness brush against your clit, a clear indication of just how much he wants you. taking your lip between his teeth, he gives it a playful nip before trailing hot kisses down your neck, going to capture your lips in another hot kiss, rolling his hips into yours making you gasp. you trail your hands underneath his black shirt, hands sliding up his broad backside.

“i need you,” you whimper, knees disconnecting to spread yourself for him, scooting higher up the seat. your desperation makes his control slip further. 

“fuck,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, tracing along the curve of your waist before dipping lower to tease at the hemline of your skirt. “you’re making it hard for me to keep my shit together.” 

“lick me up,” you whimper, pushing your hips down so your core presses against the bulge in his jeans, eren keeping down the moan in his throat, studying you. your thumbs slip into the band of your skirt, trying to indicate that you wanted them off. “please, m’dripping.”

“fuck,” he whispers again, this newfound sense of lust you had enrapturing him. “anything for you, baby.” 

his hands slip beneath your skirt to explore the softness of your thighs, smoothing over your ass as you raise your hips so it’s easier for him to pull off your skirt, his mouth watering at the bare sight of you wearing no panties. you’d slipped off your sneakers, the balls of your feet digging into his shoulder blades as he pushes you further up the chair for both of your comfortability, craning his neck between the plush of your heated thighs. he breathes in your scent, moaning into a kiss he places on your inner thigh. 

“c’mon—ah!” your breath is taken from you for your impatience, eren’s mouth circling around your clit for a quick feel before he’s lowering his tongue to taste all of you. locking his eyes with yours as you thread your fingers through his hair to push away, deciding to remove the hair tie from around your wrist to tie his hair onto the back of his head. 

the taste of you on his lips drives him wild, craving this for years on end. eren groans from the sweet taste you leave on his fat tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. eren growls in approval at your submission, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer to his mouth, swallowing down your clit, sucking on your pussy to hear you make those pretty noises he’s only heard once in his life. accidentally, of course. maybe catching you fucking yourself coming up the stairs without your knowledge, wanting to surprise you with food while the two of you studied for finals. he’s always kept that to himself, knowing you’d be extremely embarrassed by it. of course, he didn’t know it’s because you couldn’t stop thinking about what he wore in p.e; a black deftones muscle tank he cut as a crop top with gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into a manbun with his skin glistening in sweat from the insane weather out. dark ink around his skin making your mind run rapid. 

he releases his mouth momentarily, popping off your clit lewdly to murmur, “you are fuckin’ drippin’.” 

your back arches into his embrace, craning your neck as you rock against his face, eren grinning wickedly at your muffled sound, his tongue delving deeper into your folds. he laps at your entrance, thriving for every drop. his hands move to spread your legs wider apart, giving him better access to feast on your needy cunt. you hum in ecstasy, the sensation from the metal ball of his tongue piercing flicking your clit, using it to tease and torment you. his dark eyes watching you like prey, squirming and gasping from every suck. 

“fuck, baby,” he moans. “you’re so sensitive.” 

his hands move to cradle your ass cheeks as he pushes your ass up to fuck his face better, pussy glistening under the moonlight. his tongue continues it’s relentless assault, curling and connecting his tongue with your aching cunt feverishly while suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. your hands stretch to grip onto the door handle, moaning when his hand goes to smack the back of your thigh. eren growls at your helpless moans, his tongue delving deeper into your slick folds, slithering inside of you to prep you. his hands pinning your legs wide allows him unrestricted access to your throbbing cunt.

“wet n’ pretty ass pussy, baby. so, so pretty. jus’ like you, right?” he groans against you, increasing the pressure on his tongue, thrusting it in and out of you rhythmically. his free hand moves to play with your clit, rolling the sensitive nub under his thumb as he devours your pussy. 

without waiting for a response, he resumes his ministrations, his tongue plunging back into your dripping cunny while one hand continues to toy with your clit. his actions intensify as he listens to your desperate whimpers. his tongue laps at your slit greedily, drinking down every drop of your sweetness, thumb working overtime on your clit, rubbing up and down mercilessly.

“stick your fingers in me,” you whine, the brokenness in your tone only making his dick harder. he’d rather shove his dick in you, but he wouldn’t deny what you pleaded for. 

eren chuckles darkly at your plea, and within a second, his ring and index fingers are slipping inside of you, eren curling them upwards, searching for that sweet spot deep within your pussy.

“like this?” he sputters against your clit, your juices encapsulating him. your inner thighs tremble from the switch up, biting your lip and nodding. “fuck you up real good? ‘till you cream on me?” 

“y-yesss, f-fuck,” your sobs overtake you, his tongue continuing it’s relentless assault on your sensitive bud, licking and sucking it into oblivion. eren hums in agreement, his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt. he watches his fingers pump harder into your quivering cunt with furrowed brows, mumbling expletives to himself in fascination, your cunny squelching and sinking them in each time they threatened to pull out. 

“ima sink my dick in your shit, fuck. i’m too fucking hard for you,” he groans against your clit, pace quickening, the combination of his fingers fucking into you while his tongue circles around your clit pushing you closer to the edge.

“keep fucking me, baby. fuckin’ love your tongue.” 

eren loves your cries so much it’s hurting his dick bad, his fingers pumping harder into your twitching cunt, begging for you to cum. you’re drenching his fingers. he removes them when he notices your hand is cupping underneath his jaw, pulling his face in deeper and swaying your hips, the balled up expression on your face reading all he needed to know. you stretch your legs high, clamping your thighs shut and wrapping your arms underneath the curve of your knees to angle them towards your chest. eren licks his lips before sinking his tongue deep into you, thrusting his tongue like he’d use his dick.  

making a noise of approval, you grip onto his hair while maintaining your position, yanking his head back and forth, screaming as his face clashes with your pussy, tongue fucking you open until you finally cum. your tummy caves in, lifting your head to press into your knees as you catch your breath, streaming out praises of ‘yes, yes yes, baby,’ as he continues to fuck you on his tongue, uncaring of you drenching his nose and chin. 

while you take time to recuperate, eren’s leaning his head up to clean his face with the back of his hand, licking off the remainder as he reaches down to unbutton his jeans, slipping them down to his thighs and giving his dick a few slow strokes, the sight of it, thick and long, glistening with precum is enough to make anyone drool. eren holds onto it teasingly, keeping it just out of reach as he watches your reaction. “knew you wanted to see it again.” 

you cover your face. “shut up.”

with a lustful gleam in his eyes, he lines the throbbing tip against your wet slit, sliding it up and down to gather your arousal before he’s grabbing the back of your neck to look into your eyes, heavy body hovering over yours, trying his best not to lean all of his weight onto you. granted, that’s exactly what you wanted, to be suffocated under him. feel weak, submissive. 

“tell me you’re okay.” 

you nod, eyes slowly closing, unable to keep focus. “yes, m’okay. it’s okay.” 

the feeling of being sheathed within your tight pussy makes him shudder, removing his hand from your neck to balance his body by gripping onto either side of the leather seat after locking your legs flat. you reach for the recliner to level the seat up a little more, eren kissing your forehead. you drag your body lower so it’s easier for him to move, shivering from the full feeling he gives you, and that’s only half of him. 

“fuck,” he gasps, grinding into you slowly so you’ll adjust. you swivel your hips, teeth biting into your lip as you stare at the sharp cut of his jawline, emerald eyes clamped shut. “that’s it.” 

with each heavy thrust, eren can’t help the animalistic groans emitting from him, the deep baritone of his voice making your clit pulsate harder as he fucks himself deeper into you. your skin clapping as he pounds into you hard, hitting your spot and making you cry for him. he wheezes within the crevice of your neck, both of your moans colliding within the small enclosure, vibrating over the music flowing from his speakers. he’s fucking you faster with each thrust.

“s’so good, f-fuck,” the wind gets taken from you with every harsh pound, grunting beneath him and taking it all. he felt so fucking good, you couldn’t believe you waited this long just to let him fuck you. too many opportunities missed. for good and wrongs reasons though. 

“that’s it, you’re such a good girl,” his mouth gives you a chaste, sloppy kiss to your pouty lips. everything he does makes you want to cum. heavier and stronger than the last. he’s a fucking trip. 

“i’m your good girl?” your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth, teeth baring as you smile drunkenly. 

“ ‘course you are,” he kisses you again, prolonging it this time, your body slipping lower giving him the chance to fuck you even deeper, stretching you open and stuffing you full. you can feel him all in your tummy, your brows furrowed. “better than that. you’re my baby.” 

“i’m your baby?” the drag out of a whiny tone as you grip onto his chin to keep his eyes on yours has the man before you crumbling. 

eren practically whines from the way you speak to him, molding your frame into his seat from the strength he fucked you with, listening to your pussy cry for him. “you’re my baby.” 

“my pussy loves you,” you move with him, your tight cunt squeezing him, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach. 

“it does, huh. tell me how much, love.” 

“loves it so fucking much, daddy.” 

“that’s what i wanted to hear,” he hisses, groaning and fucking you faster, straightening his legs so he gets a get angle, hitting into you with all his weight. “oh god, baby. you feel so fuckin’ good.” 

“yeah, daddy?” you whimper, biting your lip. 

“yes, babydoll,” eren groans in agreement, cursing to himself as he slips his dick out, the two of you gasping from the disconnect, eren lifting himself from you. “bend over.”

you use the seat to turn yourself around, hiking yourself further up to give his big body space to settle behind you. you keep your thighs pressed together, shifting your ass back against him and arching your back low. you jump when he lands a heavy swat to your ass, hissing as his fingertips grip your flesh and bounce your ass back, mesmerized by how it moves. he draws his hips back, flexing his dick to make it jump into the right position to easily slide within your wet opening, the angle allowing him to hit deeper within your pussy than before. 

“unh, sshit,” eren moans, hands grabbing either side of your hips and tugs you back, your ass clapping amongst his toned abdomen. your forehead is connected with the seat, mouth agape as you feel the swell of him slip in and out of you, eyes scrolling to the back of your skull. 

“sshit, you’re so deep, ah!” 

his thrusts become more forceful, hitting even deeper within your pussy. with every stroke, he feels himself getting closer to release. eren growls, his canines grazing your skin as he leans in to bite your neck, your filthy whine only serving to heighten his arousal. he continues to thrust hard into you, each movement sending you both closer to breakage. 

“g’na cum, baby,” eren whimpers, rolling his waist into you, that pressure in his lower abdomen threatening to break. 

“noo, don’t cum yet,” you whine, shaking your head pleadingly. “n-not there yet.” 

“i won’t. won’t cum yet, baby,” he hisses in response. “wanna wait for daddy? so we can cum together?” 

“mmnh, wanna cum with you, baby,” your head nods drunkenly, sightly blurry. your body aches from the lack of space in the car, but it felt so good to be overpowered by him. drilling his dick into you harder. 

“take it f’me, ꒰♡꒱.” 

“i’m taking it, baby. for you.” 

“moan f’me,” his lips get closer to your ear, eren’s eyes squeezing tight, jaw wide as he fucks your pussy open. 

“m-moaning for you, babyy-ah!”

“fuck it back f’me, act like you wanna get fucked,” eren growls in pleasure, his thrusts continuing.

“i’ll fuck it for you, fuck it for you,” you’re straight up sobbing now, rolling your ass back to meet his rough strokes, dripping down your inner thighs. you’d never been fucked this good before in your life. could have possibly been the chemistry, or the longing for him. “ooo-mnmg, i feel it.” 

eren smirks, his hands moving to encircle your throat. his grip tightens slightly, cutting off your air supply, his clothed chest on your back and the coldness from his silver chain tickling your flesh. “eren, ima cum again. k-keep it there.” 

your body shudders beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing as you feel your orgasm breaks through you, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and whimpering vehemently in his face, sobbing from your inability to withhold your orgasm as well as the overwhelming way he fucked you. 

“ren,” you weep, reaching your hand behind yourself to try to push his hips away. but he doesn’t budge. eren grips your wrist to bend it still behind your back, slowing his movements the last motive. 

“you came without me, baby. bad girl,” he tightens his grip on your wrist, giving an open mouthed kissed over the side of your face. 

a small cry fell from your lips. "s-sorry. fuck, rennie . . please.”

"please, what?” he grits his teeth, the shortest hairs in front sticking to his forehead while the others threaten to fall loose from the small bun on the back of his head. the silver bracelets on his wrist clanking as he yanks you back to meet his aggressive thrusts. 

"please, eren—s-slow. i’m sensitive.” 

"that's not my name. what's my fuckin’ my name, ꒰♡꒱?" he grunts dominantly, pressing a harsh kiss to your temple, knowing what he needs.

"s-shit—daddy, please!” 

despite your pleas, he keeps fucking you mercilessly, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease. the sensation of being buried within you is too intoxicating for him to stop.

“jus’ a little more, baby. please take it a lil more,” his hand lands heavily on your ass, slowing his thrusts a bit for your sake and to feel your pussy constrict and beg to swallow him deeper as he shifts his hips slightly back, the tip of his dick kissing your entrance before he’s shoving it back in. circling his hips, ass flexing and becoming apart of you, pushing him towards another climax. 

“ooo, you fuckin’ me so good.” 

“ ‘cause it’s you, ‘cause i love you.” 

with a final powerful thrust, eren buries himself deep inside you. his cock twitches within your pussy, reaching in between to pull his dick out just in time, spurting his cum directly on your backside. your scream is deafening, covering your mouth and grinding your ass back as you cum again, unsure how that’s fucking possible. your body betrayed you, acting as if you’ve never been fucked in your whole life. but, truth be told, you’ve never gotten fucked that deep, or that good. 

“fuck!” eren’s tone is deep, stroking his dick while his other hand held your ass, thrusting into his hand to draw out every ounce of cum you wanted out of him. eren nearly collapses onto you, panting heavily as he recovers from his orgasm, slowly softening but knowing he can go another round. maybe at your house this time.

he kisses your neck softly. “are you okay, love?”

you nod, heaving, mouth dry. trying to regain your vision. “y-yeah. m’good.”

before rolling off of you, he gives you another kiss before he’s climbing back into the drivers seat to pull his pants back up, fishing for a wipe inside of his center console. 

you’re laying on your stomach now, cheek resting on your arms as you catch your breath, eren smiling down at you, kissing your spine as he wipes up his mess. “so pretty, baby.” 

that makes you weaker than anything he’d just done to you, hiding your face within your arms, still looking at his gorgeous face. he loves you so much, it’s always been clear. you hate how long it’s taken you to realize that. 

“i don’t have to think on it,” you suddenly say, eren staring intensely. your lips curve into a smile. “i know i love you too. for a while now.” 

the sparkle in his eyes makes your heart absolutely melt. “for real?”

you nod. “yeah. my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewif—”

“shut. the. fuck. up,” eren sounds out, smushing your lips together so you wouldn’t see the redness in his face. of course you’d mock him. you giggle into his mouth, squeaking when he goes to tickle your hip, eren laughing when you turn to hit his arm. 

“seriously, eren, i hate that shit!” 

“blah, blah, blah. love you too.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[covetyou]

sweet as cherry wine

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), unprotected PIV, period sex, the joys of menstruation, fingering, derogatory names (slut), mentions of malnutrition/lack of food, positive weight gain, ghost of anal sex past and future, drug reference, asshole Joel, no use of y/n word count: 5.1k summary: a different kind of rude awakenin' than you were promised ruins your Sunday plans but, of course, you find yourself at the mercy of Joel Miller anyway.

A/N: she's here! another mini-kinktober SWAT series of oneshots for you to enjoy and for me to be horny about in theory, stressed about in practice. if you want spoilers, check out the SWAT masterlist for what's to come.

once again, please ignore the total and utter bastardisation and improper use of hozier lyrics. this one is particularly heinous but out of context I couldn't resist.

title from cherry wine by hozier

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You felt more alive these days. Whether it was the bright, cool days, the extra food you could suddenly afford to eat, or the regular fucking you got from Joel, you couldn't tell, but the world felt lighter and, at the very least, your father's bad days didn't feel so difficult to manage.

It was easy to forget that these things couldn't last - the cloud was incoming whether you liked it or not, and whether it was a short shower or a downpour, you were going to get wet.

It was a fact that became painfully apparent the very morning you had an appointment with Joel.

It wasn't a strict appointment, more an offhand comment that you planned on cashing in on. When a man like Joel fucks you from behind and taunts you with threats of fucking your ass again and you think fuck yes so hard the words spew out of your mouth as you babble into the sheets, what else is a girl to do. And when he makes doubly sure you heard him by kneading your ass as you ready yourself to leave and whispers in your ear the filthy things he wants to do to you, and if you want them to happen you should come over Sunday afternoon, it's basically a done deal.

"If you thought that was an ass fuckin' before," he had said, "You're in for a rude fuckin' awakenin', sweetheart."

By god did you want that rude awakening.

But, staring into your underwear that Sunday morning, the distantly familiar gnawing ache in your abdomen suddenly had a name, and there your plans went, flushed down the drain right alongside the first signs you'd seen of your fucking period in years.

You remembered the pain, but it'd been long enough that you'd forgotten about the other discomforts periods could bring. The hunger, the aches, the tender nipples and the throb in your head. Not to mention, the last thing you wanted was Joel anywhere near any of your holes, asshole definitely included.

With your plans ruined and an ache that was rapidly spreading to your back, you didn't bother leaving the house that day, or sending word to Joel that you wouldn't be coming. Your rude awakenin' would have to wait, and your dad would have to stretch his pills for a few more days.

Three days in, you can't wait any longer. Or rather, your dad can't. You still feel rotten, and though the pain and bleeding have eased off a little, you just want the sit in your apartment and eat - the very luxury that got you in this mess in the first place.

But, you're here instead. In front of Joel's door, hands clasped at your sides, berating yourself - and your father - for even needing to be here, when Joel pulls open the door with a scowl.

"This look like Sunday to you?" he grouches, the furrow between his brows deepening as he looks you up and down.

You try to ignore it. Just like you've tried to ignore the gnawing ache in your belly all week. But, despite yourself, you can't speak, can't bring mention to Sunday and your own disappointment, and instead reach a hand deep into your jacket pocket and pull out the small number of cards you'd agreed would cover your dad's meds.

"Just here for a refill."

Joel rolls his eyes, and when he pushes away from the door frame, he beckons you inside, pushing the door shut behind you the second you scurry through after him.

"The fuck is wrong with you," he says, slamming an old worn container onto the table a second later. "And don't say nothin', I can tell you ain't right. Seen dead bodies with more life in 'em."

It hadn't occurred to you that he'd know. That he'd see right through you and know that you'd spent the days since Sunday feeling shitty as you curled into yourself. It hadn't occured to you for a second that you might look different - probably just as shit as you felt - and that Joel, a man who never seemed to be put off by anything, might be put off by this. By you.

"You sick?"

You hadn't even noticed he'd stopped rummaging, hands now on his hips as he stares at you with what you could almost mistake for concern. It pulls at you, somewhere deep inside, and you find a need to scramble for the words to reassure him, to tell him you'd be okay in the vaguest terms, that you'd be back to normal next week, if he still wants to go ahead with Sunday, because by fuck do you want to.

But instead, just one word comes out of your mouth in a sudden burst much louder than you intended.

"Period."

Joel blinks. Once. Then twice. As if trying to work something out, or maybe he's disgusted that you bleed, or maybe he's relieved you aren't pregnant at all and the little procedure to keep his swimmers at bay was still effective.

"Y'ain't had one o' them before," he starts. "I mean, since..."

You want to tell him that maybe you have. Maybe you hid it - didn't want him to know - but you both know you're a shit liar.

"Guess eating works wonders," you joke instead, not missing the frown that tugs his brows down, or the way his eyes scan back over your body to settle on the jacket that fits more snug than it ever has, or the thighs that now fill out your jeans.

The entire time, he doesn't make a single move to grab your father's pills. You want to scream at him to hurry up and give them to you - the longer you're standing here, the longer your cunt has to throb and clench at the mere thought of him. For the first time all week, you're not sure the wet feeling between your legs is blood.

"Got everything's you need?" he asks, his eyes briefly flicking down to your belly then back up.

You do. You tell him as much, now keenly aware of the feeling of the cup sat securely inside you as he stares holes through your head, searching for the lie, before giving up and shrugging when he doesn't find one.

He starts rummaging in the small container again, pulling out a half used packet and gesturing to you with it. "You hurtin'?"

You shake your head, turning down his offer of free prescription meds to ease your aches and pains. "Not so much any more."

Joel slowly takes a step towards you, and your pussy pulses again, gripping the cup lodged inside you and making you wish it was something else entirely.

"Still up for fuckin' if you are."

Nothing can keep the scoff of disbelief from bubbling out of your chest. Not two seconds ago you thought that maybe he'd be put off by you, if not by how you looked, then by the mess between your legs.

"No way are you fucking my ass, Joel," you say through a laugh.

He shrugs, before moving closer and pulling open your jacket. "Never said that. A fuckin' is a fuckin', don't matter which hole. Could have you comin' on this cock and leavin' feelin' better than you have in days, if you want it."

"You got a magic dick or something?" You laugh again, though smaller this time as Joel stares down at you through dark lashes.

"Think you know the answer to that better than I do," Joel says, running his tongue along his teeth. "Doubt you been rubbin' that pretty thing between your legs too much these last few days, huh?"

He's not wrong - making yourself come has been the last thing in your mind lately. You spent most of your time Sunday scrambling to find your menstrual cup and learning how to use it all over again so you weren't free bleeding all over the place. Since then your days had been filled with torturously slow work days and hiding away in your room with a pillow cluched firmly to your stomach.

"Didn't think so."

In a blink, he's gone, moving away from you so quickly your head spins. He's pressing the lid firmly back onto the container, the loud clicking echoing around his apartment as he readies it to be stashed away. You look away as he turns from you - not wanting to see if it's hidden in the usual drawer or elsewhere in his home - and turn just in time for a threadbare towel to be thrown your way. It's worn, and stained, but soft and clean in your hands.

"Go get yourself cleaned up."

You gape at him. Mostly in disbelief that he would want to touch you at all right now, but a small part of you stares at his form - broad and strong - wanting desperately to leap on him right here with no mind paid to the thing currently lodged in your cunt, feral with the knowledge that he actually wants you.

"But what about the mess," you say feebly instead, grinding your knuckles into that soft part just below the pooch of your belly as a sudden ache - no doubt brought on by the fluttering in your cunt - takes hold of your womb.

He laughs then, low and throaty, before making his way back to you and gripping your chin between thumb and forefinger.

"Good job I like it when you're a mess for me, sweetheart."

You're gone in a flash - his deep chuckle the only thing you hear as you rush to the bathroom and close the door, stripping down as quickly as you can before hopping into his shower. The water is deliciously warm as it pelts your skin, a forgotten luxury that you wish you'd had two days ago at the worst of your aches. Still, you relish in it, and find yourself tentatively stepping out of the steamy room with the tattered towel wrapped around you and your cup cleaned and discarded on his bathroom sink far sooner than you'd like.

There's a soft yellow light beckoning you into Joel's bedroom as you pad your way across his floor. He's there, just beyond the doorway, laying another towel across faded sheets. His jeans are off and his sweater discarded, his bare, muscular legs flexing with each movement in the golden light as he puts together the space you're about to fall apart in.

"You gonna keep starin'," he says with a final flourish of the towel before giving it a gentle pat with his hand. "Or you gonna sit your ass down before you drip on my floor."

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the bed, Joel barely giving you space to maneouver by him, before doing as your told and sitting your ass down. There's already a soft lump forming in the front of his boxers when you cast your eyes up to him.

"Show me," he says, dragging a finger across your hand where you grip the towel to yourself, and in an instant it drops away from your body, falling into your lap and exposing your chest to him.

"Y'know, I thought they'd got bigger," he says, letting his finger trace from your hand to your palm and down to the soft swelling of your chest. "Bouncin' in my fuckin' face more than usual lately."

His broad hand encases your breast, gently holding but not squeezing as his fingertips caress your soft flesh. His thumb drags gently across your nipple, the sensitive bud of it tightening and sending a zing straight down through to your core. It should hardly come as a surprise to you - the soft fabric of your own t-shirts had been borderline painful in the days leading up to your unpleasant surprise. Still, it makes you gasp, a thing that Joel notices with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ass too," he continues, hands stroking softly at your tender nipple before crouching before you on creaking knees. "I'd fuck it any chance I'd get, but somethin' about it lately..."

Resting back on your palms, you look down at him beyond the swell of your breasts. He's gazing at them, watching as they heave with each breath you take. For good measure, you take in a deep sigh just to watch his eyes darken as they rise and fall right in front of his face.

"Show me," he says again, with a nod and, while his eyes never leave your tits as they sway in front of him, you know what he really means.

Part of you wants to clamp your legs together and hide from him. You want to ask him why - why ever, but mostly why now, when you're like this. But you don't.

Instead, you pull the towel away and let it fall from your thighs. For a second, you wonder if Joel has even noticed. He still seems entranced by the way your tits move. That, or he's somehow being polite - a weird thing to even consider given how very naked and very close to him you are right now.

Then, he flicks his eyes between your legs for a fraction of a second, before standing and pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. The tent in his boxers is even more pronounced now, the trail of hair that slips beneath the waistband drawing your eye easily to the swelling bulge hidden beyond the fabric.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart," Joel says. "Think you can take it?"

He's stroking himself over the fabric now, you can see it in your periphery. His broad hand gently squeezing and rubbing the very thing you wish was in you.

Words lost, you nod. Then, his knee descends to one side of you, calloused hands pushing at your shoulders, and you're falling softly backward until you collide with the mattress, and the worn towel covering it.

The mattress gives way to your weight, dipping softly where you lay. Joel's over you, his massive frame cast in golden light from the lamp as he touches you more gently than you think he ever has. Your nipples pucker, his hands not even close to them as you arch into the touch of his rough palm across your side, your belly, your hip.

And then, he's dipping his fingers between your legs, not caring of the mess that might be there, and drags slick fingers through your folds until you're panting and writhing underneath him, legs spreading and hips rocking your pussy into his hand with each swipe of his wet fingers over your clit. You didn't notice how sensitive you were. The last few days you'd tried your hardest to ignore any sensation coming from your cunt that wasn't an alarming feeling of warm and wet. Now, while you were definitely warm and wet, you were practically electrified too, blood humming with need as Joel gently stroked at your pussy until you were begging him to make you come.

"I'm gonna, sweetheart," he growls. "Gonna make this needy pussy come all over my cock. Make a mess o' me."

You feel yourself flutter as his finger pushes lightly into your waiting hole. You're dripping, no telling really with what at this point, but you don't have it in you to care. He can have the mess he so desperately wants, as long as he makes you come and leaves you panting and bone tired right here on the mattress.

His face burrows into your neck, shrouding you in him while he sucks kisses down and onto your shoulder.

"Joel..." you moan, arching into him again when his finger plunges deep, gently curling forward while his palm grinds against your clit. You could make yourself come on him if he just kept like this. Except, you don't want to. You don't want to do the work. You want to lie here and take it, have him split you open on his cock and work you apart until you crumble underneath him.

He works another into you, shallow thrusts of the digits working you up and sliding easily through you. His thumb finds your clit, swiping messily over it until you twitch and grip his arm, forcing his palm flat against you so you can grind and grind against him. But he stills - the soft kisses he was peppering with you having reached the jiggle of your tits - and looks aup at you with a quirk to his brow.

"Beg me for it," he whispers, pulling his sopping fingers out of you and wiping them on the towel between your legs. "Not gonna fuck you until you do."

Your desperation cuts through the anger that flares in your belly. You were close when he pulled away, his hand now simply teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh. You were so close your cunt was throbbing, sending small aches up through you. Whether they were from him, and the relief he so quickly took from you, or the making of your own body, you couldn't even tell, but you had a sneaking suspicion they were working together to fuck you over. They always did.

"Fuck me, Joel. Please."

Joel is already settling between your thighs, boxers yanked down his legs and cock springing free, by the time you even finish asking. He presses forward, letting his cock slip against you as his mouth hungrily finds your nipple, sucking and making you gasp. A sudden sob wrestles its way out of your chest while he grinds against you, your clit twitching against the slip and slide of his length, your hands finding his arms to steady you. He's solid, and steady above you, while you quake and writhe beneath him - always the picture of fucking composure, even with his cock heavy and dripping between your legs.

He rears back then, completely naked before you, the shadow between his legs ignored as you make a point to stare up at him, his own eyes favoring the mess between your legs rather than your face. His fingers find your thighs again, spreading them, holding them, before lining himself up with your entrance.

As he presses his tip into you, there's something glaringly obvious, and different, that you notice.

He's being gentle with you. Sort of.

And you're not entirely sure you like it. A very big part of you wants him to say fuck it and pound into you, fucking the pain out of your mind to leave you moaning and boneless and far too messy to comprehend. Unfortunately, you're definitely sure that'd hurt much more than it'd actually be enjoyable, and you hate that Joel and his animal brain have understood that before you and yours.

He catches your frown before you do, and rolls his eyes at you with a gentle squeeze to your thighs. His cock is still slipping gently in and out of you, just pushing in past the head, careful not to go too deep too quickly as he spreads you apart to take him.

"I ain't a fuckin' animal. I know when a pussy's gotta be treated sweet and nice and when it needs to be fucked hard."

You really do try not to pout, but the slow drag of him suddenly doesn't feel like enough and it's all you can do not to cross your arms and glare at him. "What if I don't want sweet and nice?"

"Yeah, you do," he whispers, so sure of himself you want to fucking slap him. If his hands weren't so distracting as they slide up and down your thighs, gently massaging away any ache in tandem with his cock in your cunt, you probably would reach up and give a smack to that beautiful fucking face of his. "And even if you think you don't, she does, and, unlucky for you, I ain't listenin' to you right now."

The moment he starts talking about your cunt, his brings his thumb down to gently tease along your lips where he splits you open, drawing a slick combination of your own blood and arousal up to your clit where he swirls it around.

And, traitorous bitch that she is, your pussy throbs in approval, as if to say yes, yes we want sweet and nice, and you know you've lost the battle. Where Joel was concerned, you were a slave to your pussy - it wasn't even a point worth contending at this point, and you're not sure you ever would've fought to hard against it anyway.

So, you nod, slipping your eyes closed as he fucks himself deeper and deeper into you. In an odd way it does feel like a massage - the stiff length of him pushing in past the tense grip of your cunt until you're putty right there on the bed, a leaking, dripping, groaning mess, all of Joel Miller's making. He never bottoms out. Never once hammers home. Never once takes your soft pleas and moans as direction to go faster, harder, even though part of you still wants him to.

You just lie there, soft and pliant against the sheets, taking the steady slip of him in your needy hole until your brain turns to soup in your head.

"Kiss me," you mumble through another moan when his hands drag up your body to swip rough fingers over your nipples again. "Joel, kiss me."

Your legs push back as he falls forward, the sudden movement pushing him deeper and making you gasp. He stops for a moment, searching your eyes as they fly open, pupils blown in the lowlight of his bedroom. He rocks tentatively, at first, before beginning the slow slide in and out of you all over again, until your head thuds back against the mattress.

You'd thought he'd undone you before. Right in this room. You'd thought his fist in you had ruined you, his cock in your ass, his hand in your hair. So many things before now should have torn you apart, but none of that had prepared you for this. The soft, sweet, dirty way Joel Miller fucked all the aches and pains out of you right on his tired mattress.

Through it all, you almost forget you'd asked him to kiss you until his mouth finds yours, and you excitedly accept the pressure of his lips. You'd be embarrassed by it, and by the giddiness in your head as he nips and sucks at your mouth, if you hadn't long lost that feeling around him.

"Forget how much of a slut for kisses you are," he mumbles when he pulls away. "Slut for everythin'."

A weak protest forms in your throat, but his hips jerk forward and silence you with a moan instead.

"No denyin' it. Ain't met many who wanna be split open on this dick when they're on the rag," he's grinning into your shoulder as he taunts you, biting and sucking soft bruises you'll worry about later you as he grinds deeper in you now. "Startin' to think you're some kind of masochist."

You can feel his smile against your skin - a sign he already knows by now that that's more than true. Even so, like most things with Joel, this wasn't something you'd even considered before, let alone considered you might enjoy, until he did it. There's an ache as he stretches you, sure. And an ache in your belly too. And, somehow, one is soothing the other, the grip you have around his cock distracting you from any other feeling in your body as he slides through the mess between the two of you, bringing you close to a euphoria that feels deeper in your belly than it ever has.

He notices the change before you do. Your soft, contented moans turn into deep yearning cries as he grinds his cock deep, heavy balls sitting wetly against your ass as your slicked up hole seems to draw him in further and further. His fingers push between you, the slip of sweat, and blood, and your own slick easing his digits between your bodies until he finds your clit again.

With a soft movement, he jerks it between two fingers, watching and listening as you whine pathetically, eyes pressed so tight you see stars. A quick slip lower, feeling the sticky slip of you around his cock that has the telltale feel of your arousal and not blood, he moves back up and begins swiping his finger over your swollen clit in earnest.

Your clit twitches and pulses beneath his finger, your cunt fluttering around his solid length as it slowly presses into you, barely moving, just watching as you become exactly the kind of mess you feel.

It aches, and it hurts, and it feels so fucking good that you sob out a cry, a moan, a garbled plea, all at once as you come, shaking into the deep arch of your back as he fucks slowly and slowly and slowly, his fingers sliping endlessly against your clit, jerking the nub until you can do nothing but let out a deep, breathy, scream.

"That's it," he groans, his own cock throbbing in you as you pulsate around him. "Messy fuckin' girl. Come on it. Come all over it."

"Please," you gasp stupidly, not knowing what you're begging for, the height of your orgasm coming crashing down as it suddenly all feels too much. "Please."

While you don't know what you're begging for, it seems like Joel does. One moment his hand is between you, and the next it's rubbing against the towel before gripping gently at your shoulder, holding you steadily underneath him as you shudder and gasp.

And then, like reading your deepest wishes straight from your mind, he starts rocking in shallow thrusts - unsatisfying on their own, but paired with the filth from his mouth, it sends you close to the edge all over again.

"There we go," he moans in your ear, breathy and desperate as you. "S'all you needed."

You're starting to think Joel Miller's cock maybe is all you need - for some people it's love, or riches, but for you, at least in this moment, the heavy length impaling you and curing all your ailments is all you need. For now, at least.

He's wrecking himself with it all too, you notice. The way the pressure of his hands on your body increases and releases over and over as he fights with himself to be gentle as he fucks you to his own release isn't helped by the way his mind is racing, his mouth barely keeping up with whatever filth is rattling around in his mind.

"Gonna take it. Gonna dump my load right in this messy fuckin' hole. Y'gonna be fillin' up that fuckin' cup with my cum after this. Gonna be spillin' outta you. Needy - fuckin' - slut."

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," you babble, holding onto his arms through his gentle thrusts, your cunt threatening an orgasm even as a new ache settles back into your core.

"Like bein' a slut for me?" he gasps. "Like bein' mine?"

"Yeah. Yours. Please, Joel. Fuck."

"Tell me. Tell me s'mine."

"It's yours. Your hole. I'm your needy - fuck - hole!"

"Damn fuckin' right you're my needy fuck hole. Fuck. Shit. You want this?"

And god you do. You want more besides, but right now you'll take it, on the brink of coming as the rough thatch of hair at the base of his cock grinds relentlessly into your clit.

"Said, do you want this."

His shallow thrusts speed up, and you just about have time to gasp out a yes before you're twitching and coming hard around his cock again. He follows soon behind, gasped curses bitten into your shoulder as your hands slip against his sweat soaked sides, filling your cunt with thick ropes of cum, thanking him in mindless chants as you feel each pulse of his cock fill you more and more.

You're limp and just about as lifeless as he said you looked when he first opened the door. You don't care. You feel more relaxed than you have all week, the pain completely gone as a warm floaty feeling courses through your veins.

Joel pulls out, asking if you're all good and accepting the wobble of your head as a yes, before wiping his cock with the towel and using it to gently wipe at your thighs.

There's not as much mess as you expected, as you look down. You expected carnage - a bloodbath - but there's nothing more than a soft streak of red on the towel when he pulls it away and tosses it into the corner.

He flops heavily next to you, pulling part of the towel you're laying on over your body in a vague attempt to keep you warm as you both come down. The chill in the room had been kept at bay until now, mostly thanks to Joel's body heating yours from the inside out. Now, sweat dries on both of your bodies, and you find yourself shifting closer to his warmth to stave off the cold.

"Y'think these gonna be a regular thing now?" he asks as he tugs part of his bedsheet over himself.

You shrug, offering up your uncertainty. It had been years since your last - your fathers declining health and your subsequent lack of good meals had seen to that. There was no telling if there'd be any regularity to them and, if you were being honest, you didn't want to see one again for a very long time.

He's silent for a second, thoughtful features pinching in the warm light of his bedroom before he speaks again.

"Alright. How 'bout I give you that ass fuckin' in a couple weeks, then?"

It's not exactly what you expected. You'd almost forgotten about it yourself. But, now, as he pins a new date for your promised rude awakenin' you find yourself ready to pout again, this time at the idea of having to wait two more weeks.

"Two weeks? I'll probably be finished with this by the end of the week. I can come over Sunday, or in the week or -"

"I know," he says simply. "Like the idea of you bein' like a bitch in heat and me fuckin' a load into your ass when your cunt is so desperate for it, though."

Anything you were going to say is totally lost in an instant, your jaw flapping on its hinges as you try and fail to find the words that were just on the tip of your tongue. Any protest, question, or suggestion, is gone and, you realize, replaced with one thing, and one thing only.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

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[bunnys-kisses]

bright as the morning

simon "ghost" riley

cw: plus sized!reader, smut, pwp, body worship, possessive behavior, jealousy, age (early 20s/mid 30s), simon can pretty much bench-press you, oral sex, missionary the mating press

bunny says: like fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? request your own! (title inspired by hozier's 'too sweet')

there was a period of time you thought you were ugly. you thought guys either ignored you or made comments because of your size. the sight of you made them gag and they'd rather be single than date you. even now with more confidence, you still couldn't believe when men hit on you.

you were waiting for your boyfriend at the mechanic's shop. you were in nothing too special, just wanted to join simon as he got his car. but you were adamantly listening to a mechanic around your age talk your ear off about cars. you thought he was just being nice.

but then you felt the presence of your boyfriend. the air got cold when he was near and he looked over you like a shadow, "the car's here."

you looked over and smiled up at your lover. he took your hand in his hand and headed away from the mechanic. you tried to keep in pace with him but his strides were just too big. then in front of the car, he looked over at he other man and pulled you close to him and kissed you through his mask.

"my doll." he said quietly, "was he causin' ya any problems?"

you looked up at him and shook his head, "nope. he was just being nice."

he chuckled, "yeah... nice. let's get ya home, i heard you were makin' me somethin' special for dinner." then pulled away but kept his eyes on you.

you smiled, "it's canned soup, simon." and turned away to get to the other side of the car. you could feel his heavy gaze on you as you got into the vehicle. simon got in soon after, you didn't even notice the look he gaze the other man as he put his hand on your thigh.

he pulled away for a moment to put the keys in the ignition, but it was soon back on your thigh as he pulled away and headed home. the entire way home, his large hand was on your thigh. his strong fingers squeezed a little at their softness.

"are you okay?" you asked as you looked to him. you placed a hand over his, the roughness of his knuckled brushed against you palm.

"fine, love." he said gruffly.

you sighed, "i know you better than you know yourself then. tell me, did the mechanic over change you?"

"nah." he said, "just some punk talkin' to my girl."

you raised an eyebrows, "simon. he was just being sweet. nothing to be jealous over." you patted his shoulder and continued to look at him.

he replied, "after all these years, ya still don't know how beautiful you are." then looked over quickly to reach over and pinch your round cheek, "prettiest damn girl i've ever seen."

-

simon knew exactly how he was going to show how beautiful he thought you were. he liked how your thighs touched together, he loved the roundness of your face. he loved how you felt in his arms. you never held a gun, you never had to starve while on missions. you were content with the life you led up to that point. it wasn't marked by violence. you were safe enough to be a little softer around the middle, and simon though it was beautiful.

even if all your personality was extracted, he would still worship you like a devotee. worshiped your softness, kiss the plush skin. perfect.

you were in your bedroom and simon had you in his arms. he was pulling the t-shirt over your head. you wiggled out of it and helped him get off your body. he dropped the shirts then felt you up, his hard grasp lingered around your arms. he toyed with your breasts and groaned to himself.

his mask had long since been taken off. you could see the scarring on his lower face. as he played with your curves, you leaned up and kissed him on the scar on his chin.

he sighed contently, "he can't have this. only me." he let out a short chuckle through his nose before he went in for the deep kiss. he thought of the young mechanic who was trying to hit on you. it wasn't that he couldn't believe that someone would flirt with you, he just didn't get that someone couldn't see that you were already a taken woman!

no one else was allowed to flirt with him, but him!

he soon dropped to his knees and pulled your pants down. then soon your underwear followed to around your ankles. he spread your thighs a little and dipped his head between your legs.

you let out a small noise and tangled your hands in his blond hair. your face felt aflame from his attention. you said, "simon!"

he chuckled, "too sweet." he kissed your thigh, "too sweet for me." then continued to orally pleasure you. he felt his soft thighs in his hands was a feeling that made him excitement.

you quivered a little and he held you up against him. you held onto his hand as his tongue lapped against your clit. you tasted like a dream, while a weaker man would expect his girl to taste like candy. but the nature taste of your wetness made his cock strain in his jeans.

"shit... simon." you whimpered.

he continued to lick at your sweet pussy and marveled in the sounds that you made. it was music to his ears as he heard you. he wanted to make sure you knew how good you looked to him.

a lesser man would ignore you for your size, but what did they know. simon knew better, he was a real man. and he loved a partner who was soft. meant it let him protect you.

he pulled away and looked up at you with wetness staining his chin. he said, 'c'mon, love. get those legs around my head." and then slowly got you up on his shoulders with your pussy right in his face once more.

he held you up by your lower back and continued to pleasure you orally. when he hit a sweet spot, your thighs clenched around his head. he made sure you were secure up there. perfect against him as made you feel good.

and with your hands in his hair, he felt amazing. his cock strained against his pants as he held you up. he often told you that it was like a bag of grapes when he picked you up. he was trained to hold up a lot more, so it was quite easy for him to pick you up.

you yelped from the sensation of his tongue on you, you panted as you held his head tighter. his forehead up against your stomach. it was a sore spot to acknowledge, but he knew how to make every inch of you feel special. even if you were insecure.

"always mine, doll." he said softly, his kisses littered the soft skin of your cunt. his touches were forms of worship across your back. he was a devotee to the religion of your love. he remembered the first time he made you orgasm on his fingers, he felt the thump in his chest. his cold heart shattered into a beating organ.

he had found a life post-war. something beyond blood and conflict. a place he could nestle his aching bones and rest. you had opened your heart and home to him, and he would be forever grateful.

it often shocked him that you weren't the most confident woman to ever exist. but he'd just have to show his worship every day until you believed it too.

he raked his blunt nails down your back side and over your ass before he held onto you lower back once more and tried to get as deep as he could against your cunt.

"please!" you whimpered, "i can't cum like this."

he said something then smacked your ass. he groaned between your thighs. it was his mission now to make sure you came on his tongue. he could hold you up all day if he had to. he felt you tense up and his assault on your clit gave way for you to hold onto him tightly and kicked out your legs as you finished on his tongue.

he chuckled as he got up slowly and headed to the bed. he placed you down gently and gazed at your naked body. simon saw the birth of venus painting when in a mission in italy. but he could believe he was seeing it for a second time when he looked at you.

you looked up at him, your face felt hot as you rubbed your wet thighs together. you didn't know what to do with your hands so you held onto the covers under you as you watched your boyfriend strip down into nothing.

that strong body, with a little more insulation than when you first met. but he was strong and imposing. he could still kill as effectively as he could when he was in the military. you swallowed and covered your face.

"don't hide from me. i want to see it all." he said as he gazed down at you.

you moved up the bed and he got on top of you. he handled you easily and with care. he loved the feeling of your softness against him. you felt like a dream, a warm heat he could find comfort in.

he didn't want anyone else to have you. he wanted you all to himself. to enjoy and love. to make him feel complete as he rubbed his cock up against your slit him holding your legs.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

he continued to rub up against you, teasing your pussy before he sank his length into you. he was tempted to pin you down to the bed, but he liked when you got all shy. he found in endearing when he made you blush so much that you hide yourself from him.

"do you like that?"

"love it."

he then slipped his cock into you, he sank in easily thanks to all his work on your pussy. he held your legs up as he pushed in fully. he exhaled deeply as he felt the air leave his chest.

you tried to kick out your legs once more but he kept them pinned to him as he started to rock back and forth. he moved against you, letting your wetness give him access to the deepest parts of you.

he moved against you and you held onto the bed under you.

"you look amazing." he said, "i wanted to kill that guy for talkin' to ya. i want you, and i want you all to myself. you're too perfect. all mine."

you looked at him and replied, you breathed deeply, "i only want you too, simon. i wouldn't want anyone else." you felt yourself get dragged as he got off the bed and held you up by the hips a she pushed down into your cock which almost left you in a mating press.

you felt your stomach in your throat as he pushed down into you. the sounds of sex filled the air as the two of you fucked on the bed you shared.

"i think you're just perfect." he said, "no other girlie like you. you make me wanna be a good man."

you replied innocently, "you are a good man." if you only you knew what he had done before he met you. he leaned forward and kissed you once more which squished your further.

he thrusted into you at a quick but steady pace. he watched your face changed the more he brought you pleasure. you were a sight to behold in front of him. he watched your body move against him, your curves shake with his movements.

you two fucked on the bed, well at the edge of the bed. it wasn't long however before you two felt close to orgasm. he cotninued to thrust into your body, he loved the feeling of the two of you against one another. it was a comforting feeling.

he thought you were sexy, but also a place of comfort for him. a place where he could rest his head and find content with life. he just thought you were amazing. the perfect woman.

with another hard thrust, he finished inside of you. and soon you clamped around his cock and came around it. you held onto the covers for support as he railed you. once you were over the tip of your orgasm, you felt the fight leave your body.

you both got to the top of the bed and cuddled in each other's arms naked. he rubbed your curves and kissed at your neck. he could feel the sweat on your neck. he sighed contently.

"simon."

"yes, love."

"you really do think i'm pretty?'

"i don't think you're pretty. i think every woman should be jealous of you." he chuckled softly as his lips went into your hair where he buried his nose in your strands. you were his mornings, afternoons and evenings, and no snot nosed mechanic is going to get in the way of that. <3

xoxo, bunny

[dinoace2]

I had a cute little story idea so you all must deal with my sappy ass

This one's just some sweet short astarion comfort fluff bc I need more of that in my life

(AFaB Tav, referred to as She/Her, mention of periods. 575 words)

~~~~~

They were more or less together at this point, mutual pining and spending all their time with one another, though neither said it aloud. Tav let him feed on her neck whenever he needed, though he would only do so if she offered first. This was rarely an issue, however, since she had a tendency to make this offer on a daily basis.

Lately, though, she hadn't. For the last several days, whenever the party retreated to their camp for some much-needed rest, Tav would immediately go straight to her tent and lay down.

Astarion paced outside of her tent, wondering whether or not to ask about it. Was she upset with him? Did he do something wrong? Was she finally fed up with him? No, no, that couldn't be it. Right?

After fighting with himself for a while, he slowly poked his head in, seeing Tav curled up around a pillow, her back to him. "Hello, darling...I just wanted to check in on you. Is everything alright?"

She paused, a low grumble in her throat. "...yeah. just been...I dunno...a bit extra tired. I'm okay."

That didn't sound okay. Tav was usually so strong, so energetic...this definitely wasn't normal.

He cleared his throat. "...does this, perhaps...have anything to do with my, ah...lack of feeding these last few days?" He paused, then shook his head quickly. "I-i would like to be clear, I'm not asking for it at the moment! I was simply...inquiring. Trying to gain an understanding, that's all." He chuckled. "Youre the one who always insists upon honesty and 'no more secrets', after all."

Tav paused then let out a long sigh, sitting up and giving the poor, strangled pillow a break. "...Sorry. I....its really rather silly...perhaps almost selfish..." she turned around, looking up at him from where she sat. "As much as I'd love to share right now, I've been losing enough blood as it is...im not sure it'd end well if I were to give up more."

Losing blood? His face paled, somehow more than usual. Was she injured? She didn't look hurt. He ransacked his memory to try and figure out when or where she could have taken such a hit, all the while looking her up and down for any physical signs of pain.

"I...oh dear...uh...if I may ask, what happened, darling? When did you get hurt? Did you fall? Did someone stab you? Who do I need to hunt down?"

Tav was quiet for a moment then let out a soft chuckle. "Im fine, Astarion...really, it's okay."

She...wasn't hurt? Then why was she...

...Oh.

Oh.

His cheeks flushed as bright as his eyes and he was quick to her side, pulling her into his arms. "Darling, why didn't you say so? I absolutely would have understood. You didn't have to hide that from me." He chuckled. "If anyone here knew a thing or two about blood, it would be me, don't you think?"

His comment drew a giggle from the tired warrior in his arms, and she snuggled up. "Thank you, Astarion."

The following days, the rest of the party noticed that Astarion was especially doting on Tav, (or at least more than usual,) being extra snuggly and, in some particular occasions, downright spoiling her. Despite her insistence that it wasn't a big deal, and he really didn't have to go so far, he was incredibly stubborn to ensure that his darling was as comfortable and happy as possible.

~~~~

Idk how to end it so

Thanks for reading! :]

[hey-august]

Miles above, it’s so serene

A/N: This didn't win in the poll, but I just couldn't let the idea go! (See the smuttier fic here.)

Word count: ~1.4k Warnings: Pretty much SFW, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, partaking in the devil's lettuce 🍃, buggy is smitten, talks of sex but it doesn't happen, bit o fluff at the end

Title from "High as a Kite" by Weezer

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Cheers, shouts, and laughter from the pub spilled into the night street every time the door opened. A soft breeze carried the chatter and echoing footsteps, picking up the smoke from your group on the way. The edge of the glowing pool of light from the pub was the perfect spot to stand in a circle and bullshit about nothing. 

A lighter clicked, creating a red cherry that flared as one person inhaled. The roll passed to the next hand and the ember burned bright, before making its way to your hand. You took a shallow drag, pulling in just enough to maintain your comfortable buzz, before continuing the chain.

Raunchy jokes, lonely laments, agitated frustrations, and casual gossip bounced around the circle. Lobbies and spikes were unpredictable. New topics and responses overlapped to create a tightly bound weave between the crew. When one pirate beckoned a newcomer to join the pod, the rest of the group shuffled aside to make room. The empty space was filled by your captain. 

While extremely common for Buggy to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his mates, he was usually found in the pub draining bottle after bottle. Periodically, in certain crowds, he could be found with a cigarette dangling from his lips. It was rare, nearly fable, for him to choose to bond in a hazy cloud. And yet, there he was, standing next to you and effortlessly sliding into conversations like he had been here the whole time.

Soon it was time for your next hit. The roll sat between your fingers as you finished sharing a heated thought about the recent meals. It was a complaint that nearly everyone onboard had said at some point, yet you felt an odd strain emanating from your side. From your captain.

“...it’s whatever, really. Doesn’t actually matter, I guess.” 

You wrapped up the venting with a non-committal comment, hoping it might ease the subtle tension that only you seemed to sense. Maybe it was all in your head, so you set to work filling the space with smoke. You exhaled slowly and held out the roll for Buggy to take next, half expecting him to pass.

You were surprised when he nearly snatched his turn from your hand and took a hard drag, the unseen pressure finally relaxing. Watching the smoke drift from Buggy’s painted mouth as he spoke, you found a way to wheedle your way into his conversation. There was something intriguing and novel about seeing your captain like this, and you needed an excuse to stare.

It quickly became clear that this was not an activity Buggy participated in frequently. His comments became looser and his booming laughter had him bumping against you more frequently. Buggy’s personality was infectious. When one of his hands clasped your shoulder as he doubled over in laughter, it brought out your own fit of joy.

A new roll began its trip around the group. Still comfortable with your buzz, you took another shallow inhale. Buggy, on the other hand, pulled the ember ever closer and refilled his lungs with more unfiltered air than they were used to. Focused on himself, the captain missed the glances and suppressed smiles that flitted around the group.

You accepted the non-verbal remarks when your turn came around again. This time, you passed.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head back. Captain, wanna walk back with me?”

“Heh, afraid of the dark?” he teased. “Sure, who better to protect you than the guy who ate the chop-chop fruit. No one will screw with us.”

You smiled, pleased that the plan worked. The warmth of the achievement flickered briefly when you realized that the roll hadn’t passed both of you yet. There was a possibility he’d take another hit, which is what you were hoping to avoid. The pirate standing on Buggy’s other side caught your eye and reached over to remove the obstacle. With the roll continuing it’s journey, you and Buggy left the group to start your own.

The walk to the ship was illuminated by the full moon. The ocean was calm, just barely rolling over the small stones on the shore. A soft wind followed you both, whispering through the palm trees and sea grass. With each step, you both continued talking and laughing. 

Buggy’s comments started drifting more frequently. He’d end with trailing thoughts, repeat himself, and launch into conversations that started in his head. It was endearing. You were more than content to follow along, watching to see how high he’d float.

“Y’know, I wish we weren’t walking back together,” Buggy drawled, clearly saying the thought as it appeared in his head.

You stayed silent, waiting to see if he’d elaborate. Did he not want to head back yet? Or did he want to walk with someone else?

“Not tonight, you know? I wouldn’t be able to consent to anything. I want to, but I can’t.”

Despite his continued babbling, you still couldn’t follow the thread he was dangling in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

Buggy turned to face you, leaving his feet to continue walking forwards to the ship.

“If we were to do something back on the ship,” he said, with a tinge of annoyance that he had to explain something that was only obvious to him. “Something,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

You bit back a laugh and nodded along.

“You and me, having sex together. Something. But I couldn’t consent like this.” Buggy emphasized his point by spreading his arms wide. “I wish I could, though. With you. I like you.”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows. This was not how you expected the walk back to go. You rubbed your face, massaging your cheeks which would not relax or let go of the ecstatic smile hidden under your hand.

Buggy continued to prattle on, sharing all the things he likes about you. Observations that you didn’t think he noticed. Compliments that fill your stomach with butterflies. You captured your captain’s attention long ago and his list was long. From your fiery temper to your soothing smile, the way your hair caught the sunlight, how you smelled like the ocean, the scratch in your voice when you sang sea shanties, the shape of your hands, and so much more.

The monologue wrapped with another repeated lament about his inability to safely agree to sex. Buggy’s shoulders drooped and he hung over in remorse as he reconnected with his feet and turned away from you. He was adorably pathetic. Truly a clown.

“I like you too, captain. I promise not to take advantage of you, though.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

The rest of the walk was uneventful after that moment. If anything, it was as if the confessions didn’t happen. Buggy grew quieter and retreated into himself as you two boarded the ship. You knew that he was losing his hold and becoming untethered. It can be scary to feel like you’d float away, so you continued to fill the silence as you guided the captain back to his quarters. 

“Fuck, why is the ship swaying so much?” Buggy whined, flopping into his unmade bed.

You talked through the laughter that threatened to slip out. “It isn’t. The sea is calm, remember?”

Buggy groaned dramatically and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Everything keeps moving when I close my eyes.”

“Keep one leg off the bed.” You slapped one of his boot-clad feet, prompting him to let it fall to the ground with a thud. “Does that help?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” Buggy stayed silent for a moment, breathing deeply. “It helps a little.”

You were only going to hang around until Buggy fell asleep. With how quickly the smoke consumed him, it shouldn’t take long. However, the night had other plans.

You found yourself waking up in the captain’s bed, with the sounds of your own sleepy breathing fading from your head. Moonlight seeped into the room, but not as much as when you were last awake. Both of you were still wearing the clothes from earlier and laying on top of his sheets. 

In your hand was Buggy’s own, fingers entwined. Flattered heartbeats returned to your chest, nearly aching with how hard they started. As the content feeling flooded through your body, you gave a tentative squeeze. This was real. This was all real. While part of you was eager to know what tomorrow would bring, you also wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

A moment later, you felt the comforting hold on your hand squeeze back.

[oskea93]

✶ Whiskey (2) ✶ - John “Bucky” Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ Chapter warning: Sexual content, period sexism, spousal belittling, cursing Words: 4353 A/N: Hello again! First off, I just want to say thank you so much for the love and support y'all have shown this story!! You guys are amazing and you have no idea how much I appreciate you guys! So, with this chapter, we get to meet Dominik and Marigold - the husband and MIL. These two will have major impacts on our OC's life and at times their treatment towards her will not be very nice. We also get to meet the most important person in our OCs life... The bright side, we will see our OC spending time with a certain Major 🥵. This story is just getting started and I promise that Mr. Egan and all the fabulous men of the 100th will come to light in the upcoming chapter. It's gonna be a wild one! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

“I don’t see why you need to accompany your husband to such a location – full of men waiting for their chance to die.”

Rolling my eyes, I kept my mouth shut as my mother-in-law moved around the room. She had volunteered herself to accompany Dom and I to England – stating that she needed to be here for the sake of her granddaughter.

“What’re you expected to do while he’s working? Just longue around and make eyes with all the soldiers – give them blue balls so they can go back to their barracks and dream about you?”

A smile tugged at my face, “Somebody has to get them a little excited, Marigold.”

Her brows knitting together – unsure if I was being serious of not. “That’s what those pin-up women are for – you’re a married woman, Rachel. Married to one of the top colonels in the army – you don’t need to be strutting around like some old whore.”

Sighing, I pushed myself off the chair, her eyes watching me like the hawk she is. “Are you faithful to my son?” The question causing me to stop in my tracks. “You wouldn’t think about stepping out on him, would you?”

Her dark eyes bore into my soul, their intensity like a piercing gaze from the depths of the night. With each passing moment, I felt a shiver run down my spine, as if her gaze held the power to unravel the very core of my being. In that fleeting instant, the world around me seemed to fade away, leaving only her eyes, dark and mysterious, capturing my every thought and emotion in their enigmatic depths. “No –“My tone defensive. “Why ever would you think that?”

Feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation, she shrugged her shoulders, the weight of the moment causing her lips to press tightly together in a display of silent resolve.

“What gives you the idea that I would be unfaithful to Dominik? Because of what I said – that was a joke – they’re very popular nowadays.” Her back straightening at my bitter return.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite Mari's biting words. Our relationship had always been strained, but her sharp remarks never failed to sting.

"I understand your concern, Mari," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze. "But I'm not going to England to flirt with soldiers. I'll be there to support Dom and assist in any way I can. It's important for us to be together during his assignment."

Mari huffed, clearly not convinced. "Just be careful, Rachel. Men in uniform can be quite charming, but they're not to be trusted. Don't forget your responsibilities as a wife and a mother."

Her words echoed in my mind, stirring up a mix of frustration and resignation. I knew Mari meant well in her own way, but her traditional views often clashed with my more independent spirit.

"Again, I appreciate your concern, Mari," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'll always prioritize my family above all else. You can trust me on that."

In that fleeting moment of our interaction, as her captivating eyes locked onto mine, a subtle yet unmistakable expression of doubt crept into her gaze. "I hope so, Rachel. You have a good husband and a beautiful daughter. Don't take that for granted."

In the intricate web of relationships that intertwined our lives, tensions simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment. Marigold's disapproval of me seemed to stem from a place of deep-seated insecurity and a need to control the narrative surrounding her son's marriage.

From the very beginning of Dom and I’s relationship, Marigold had made it clear that she held certain expectations for the woman who would become her daughter-in-law. My lack of pedigree, my fiery red hair, and perceived lack of refinement were all points of contention for Marigold. In her eyes, I was an outsider, unworthy of her son's prestigious lineage.

The constant barrage of criticism and belittling remarks from Marigold had taken its toll on me, chipping away at my confidence and sense of self-worth. Despite my best efforts to prove her loyalty and devotion to Dominik, I found herself caught in a never-ending cycle of scrutiny and judgment.

As Marigold insinuated doubts about my fidelity and questioned my motives, I felt a surge of indignation rise within myself. The implication that I would betray Dominik, the man I loved, cut deep, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Yet, I understood that Marigold's insecurities and fears were driving her behavior, fueling her need to assert control over the situation.

The dynamics between myself and Marigold were fraught with unspoken tensions and power struggles, each woman vying for dominance in their own way. My defiance in the face of Marigold's criticisms and barbs hinted at an underlying strength and resilience that belied my outward appearance.

She lightly cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the opulent room. "Darling," she began, her voice smooth but with an underlying tension. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. "I know you would never hurt my son in such a fashion."

With deliberate grace, she slowly rose from her seat, her elegant movements betraying the subtle power she held. Her hand smoothed down the expensive fabric of her dress, erasing any hint of imperfection. "You're a very beautiful girl - woman," she remarked, her words laced with a mixture of compliment and observation.

Turning to face me fully, she continued, her gaze piercing yet enigmatic. "Those men at Thorpe Abbots haven't seen or been around a real woman in who knows how long - only the women that are working or the local townies." Her voice trailed off momentarily, her hands coming to rest gently on my arms. "It's going to be hard for them to resist you."

I regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as she pivoted back towards the chair, as if the weight of her words had dissipated as quickly as they had been spoken. I felt the urge to respond rising within me, but something in her demeanor made me hesitate, my words left unspoken.

As she settled back into her seat, a subtle yet unmistakable smugness crept into her expression, adding a layer of complexity to her otherwise composed facade. Her eyes met mine once more, a silent challenge lingering in their depths.

"Better get packing, darling," she remarked casually, the nonchalance in her tone belying the undercurrent of tension that hung in the air…

We lay in silence, the distant sounds of the bustling streets below providing a gentle background melody that filled the room. His touch, feather-light against the curve of my ribcage, sent a shiver of electricity racing through my body.

"Someone walking over your grave?" he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes as he traced patterns on my skin with his fingertips.

Resting my chin on his chest, our gazes locked in a shared moment of intimacy. "Excuse me?" I replied, a hint of curiosity in my voice.

He chuckled softly, the sound like music in the quiet room, as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face. "My pops used to say that when you get a cold chill, it means someone is walking on your grave." His words carried a touch of nostalgia and folklore.

Raising my eyebrows in amusement, I shook my head. "Can't say I've heard that one before."

As my left hand trailed down his chest, I noticed the cross necklace he wore, a simple yet meaningful charm that he kept close for protection. Taking the pendant between my thumb and index finger, I studied it briefly before placing it gently in the center of his chest, my fingers lingering over the cool metal.

"My mom gave it to me before I left," he explained, his voice tinged with emotion. "I'm not really a believer, but you need something to protect you out there."

Moved by his vulnerability, I began to share a piece of my own family history. "My grandmother was a God-fearing woman," I started, the memories of her devout faith flooding back. "She would attend church on Sundays and Wednesdays, unwavering in her devotion even in the face of adversity." A pang of sorrow touched my heart as tears threatened to well up in my eyes. "But when my Grandad fell ill, her faith wavered. She prayed for miracles as he lay dying, his lungs ravaged by years spent in the mines."

The weight of past grief hung heavy in the air between us, the shared stories weaving a bond of understanding and empathy that transcended words.

John's arm tightened around my waist; his unwavering attention focused on every word I spoke.

"After he passed away, she changed," I continued, a wistful smile playing on my lips as I reminisced. "She stopped praying, stopped going to church as often, stopped believing. My grandad was her entire world, her reason for everything. She used to tell my brother and me that God had led Grandad into her life." The warmth of nostalgia colored my voice as I shared the cherished memories.

"She would say that she prayed for God to send her a hard-working farm boy - one with dark hair and skilled hands." John's chest rumbled with laughter; his amusement palpable in the air between us. "And one day, it was as if he appeared out of the heavens, right at Sampson's Feed store across the street from her daddy's farm."

As I slowly rose from the bed, the sheet draped around my waist, I pulled my legs up to my chest, lost in the recollection. "She loved that man more than anything - perhaps even more than she loved God, I think."

The bed shifted as John pressed his chest against my back, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Have you ever felt that kind of love?" His whisper tickled my ear, his words laden with a depth of emotion.

Turning my head, our lips met in a soft, tender kiss, an unspoken connection weaving between us in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Does right now count?" I murmured between kisses, the warmth of our closeness enveloping us.

A smile played on John's lips as he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well," he teased, gently guiding me into a lying position on the mattress, "you were certainly calling for him earlier."

We both laughed, the shared moment of levity breaking through any lingering tension. I wrapped my arms around his neck, our gazes meeting with a mix of affection and sincerity.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered, his words carrying a depth of feeling that stirred my heart.

My fingers tangled in his brown locks, finding their place at the nape of his neck. "As are you, John Egan." I replied, the unspoken bond between us growing stronger with each passing moment.

His lips met mine in a gentle manner, each light peck carrying a world of unspoken emotions, his hand tenderly caressing my cheek with a touch that spoke volumes. We lingered in that moment of quiet intimacy, the outside world fading into insignificance as we shared a silent connection that transcended words.

After a moment, he lifted himself up from the bed, leaving the sheet behind as he made his way to the curtained window. I watched as his back muscles moved beneath his skin, a silent display of tension and contemplation as he gazed out at the streets below. The sun had hidden behind the thickening clouds, casting the room into a dim twilight as the impending rain approached.

Quietly, I crawled out of the bed, the sheet slipping off my body as I closed the distance between us.

Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his mid-section, offering a comforting embrace. "Are you okay?" I whispered, pressing my lips against his back, seeking to convey my support through the simple contact of our bodies.

He let out a deep sigh, his body relaxing into my touch as his hands found their place atop mine. "You ever wonder if all of this is really worth it?" His voice held a weight of solemn reflection as he voiced the doubts that lingered in his mind. "All this killing and bombing - innocent lives lost every day, many of them unaware until it's too late." The heaviness of his words echoed the burdens he carried, the moral complexities of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience.

Listening to his inner turmoil, I felt a surge of empathy and understanding for the struggles he faced. "You can't beat yourself up about that, John," I spoke softly, offering reassurance in the face of his inner turmoil. "The choices you've made, the actions you've taken - they may be part of a larger conflict, but you have to remember the good you're fighting for, the lives you're trying to protect."

John and I barely knew one another, but even in the brief moments we shared, it was evident that the weight of war was bearing down heavily on him. His eyes, once bright with youthful vigor, now held a weariness that seemed to go beyond mere physical exhaustion. It was a weariness of the soul, a deep-seated fatigue born from the harrowing experiences he had endured on the battlefield.

"My pal Buck says the same thing," He remarked, a faint smile edging on his face as memories of their conversations flooded back. "He always told me to just worry about getting back home to Wisconsin – making sure our country and those helping us fight those German pricks win the battle – big or small."

As the rain began to drum against the windowpanes, a sense of shared vulnerability enveloped us, binding us together in a moment of shared empathy and support amidst the storm of uncertainty and doubt.

His hands fell from mine as he turned towards me, his eyes falling on my naked frame. The slightest hint of sadness could be seen in his irises. Without hesitation, I closed the gap between us, his callused hands reaching my thighs, bending down slightly as he hoisted me onto his hips. Our lips never separating, a muffled moan purred through my body as my back hit the wall next to the window. The cooling fall air that drifted in from the draft window was no match for the heat that coursed through my body as John’s touch lit a fire in and outside my body.

As our embrace deepened, the weight of the war seemed to momentarily fade away, replaced by a sense of raw connection and passion. In that fleeting moment, there was only the two of us, lost in a dance of desire and longing.

The world outside may have been engulfed in chaos and uncertainty, but within the walls of that room, time seemed to stand still. Each touch, each kiss, spoke volumes of unspoken emotions and desires. It was a moment of respite, a brief escape from the harsh realities of the outside world.

With the leverage from the wall, his hand made quick work as it moved between our bodies, his large fingers finding my clit, my hips responding as they moved against his touch.

“John, please.” My mouth latching onto his neck, an animalistic growl releasing from his body.

His paced quickened, “Tell me what you want.” His breath hot against my ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

My teeth biting down harder on his neck as my walls began to clench around his touch. “Goddammit, Rachel –“His words full of lust. “Tell me what you fucking want.”

The pleasure causing tears to form in my eyes, “Fuck me, John.” Out of breath. “Please just fuck me, please!” Without warning, his cock slammed into me. His lips harshly meeting mine, stifling the gasp that fell between our kiss.

The pace was fast – hard as our hips slapped against one another. His fingers digging into my sides as my nails dragged down his back, hard enough to pull away the first layer of skin.

“Harder.” I begged. “Oh God, please go harder!”

I cried out in pain as my back repeatedly hit the wall behind me – his cock swelling inside of me as we started to reach our climax.

The warm sensation soon flooded my core, the liquid rolling down my leg as his cock stayed buried inside of me. His lips peppering kisses along my collarbone as my fingers floated through his hair as we both regained our breath.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it back to the base.”

“And why’s that?” His hips slowly moving again.

“Because-“The friction between our hips causing us both to groan. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

As the soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated the room, casting a warm ambiance over the space, Dominik's footsteps echoed against the wooden floors, the sound a rhythmic accompaniment to the weight of the impending departure. His words lingered in the air, carrying with them a mixture of anticipation and melancholy.

"I spoke with Colonel Huglin over the phone today," His voice tinged with a hint of tension that belied the calm facade he tried to maintain. "It seems like everything is ready for our arrival in the morning."

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His hair, usually meticulously styled, now bore the tousled look of a man consumed by nerves and the weight of responsibility.

"My mother is going to take Charlotte back to the States once we get on the plane," Dominik continued, his words hanging between us with unspoken emotions. "I told her to stay here for a while, but she's insistent on getting out of England."

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at Marigold's insistence on whisking Charlotte away to New York. The prospect of being separated from my daughter for an unknown stretch of time tugged at my heart, the idea of her absence leaving an ache in its wake. While Dominik and Marigold argued that the military base was no place for a young girl, I couldn't shake the feeling that there were other children in the town who could keep her company.

“What time do we leave?” I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

Dominik checked his watch, furrowing his brow. “Huglin mentioned the plane will be ready at nine sharp. We need to be at the airfield no later than 8:30.”

I bit my lip, a pang of sadness washing over me. “Charlotte will still be sleeping when we leave. I can’t bear not saying goodbye to her. We don’t know how long we’ll be a part. Your mother isn’t gonna let me wake her that early.”

“Maybe it’s best we leave without saying goodbye.” Dominik suggested, his tone matter of fact.

I stood up from the vanity, feeling a surge of frustration. “You can’t be serious, Dom?”

He shrugged, his expression impassive. “You know how my mother is. She doesn’t want Charlotte upset. She’ll have to deal with a crying child when we leave.”

Dominik’s dismissal of my feelings stung. “I’ll have Mother call the base when they land in New York and you can talk to Charlotte then,” he continued, his hands moving down my arms.

Tensions crackled in the air as he towered over me. His words, though well-intentioned, felt like a cage closing in around me. “I know it’s hard to be away from the baby, but I need you with me. You’re my rock, sweetheart,” he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on my neck. “I can’t go anywhere without my special little rock.”

I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside of me – love, frustration, and a hint of resignation. Dominik’s ability to use intimacy to end arguments was both comforting and manipulative. I knew that arguing further would only lead to more tension. So, with a heavy heart, I relented, letting the moment of peace wash over us…

As I stood by Charlotte's bedside, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm aura over the room, memories flooded her mind. Remembering the first time I held Charlotte in her arms, the overwhelming rush of love and protectiveness that consumed my heart. It was a feeling unlike any other, a bond that transcended words and explanations.

Gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from Charlotte's face, I whispered, "Sweetheart, it's time for me to go now. But remember, mommy loves you more than anything in this world." My voice cracked with emotion as I fought back tears, hand trembling slightly as I traced the curve of her cheek.

She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal sleepy, drowsy eyes. "Mama?" she murmured, her voice soft and filled with innocence.

My heart ached at the sight of my precious daughter looking up at me, so small and vulnerable in the dim light. "Hi, baby girl," my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I go."

She reached out a tiny hand, her fingers seeking the comfort of her mother's touch. "Don't go, Mama," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Tears welled up in my eyes, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Charlotte's forehead. "I have to go, darling, but I'll be back before you know it. Grandmother will take good care of you while I'm away, okay?" I reassured her, my voice filled with love and tenderness.

With a heavy heart, I tucked the covers snugly around Charlotte, tucking her in with care. Lingering for a moment, savoring the quiet peace of the room before I reluctantly turned to leave.

As I stepped out into the hallway, a familiar voice made me jump in surprise. "A little early for tears, Rachel," Mari's voice floated towards her, her figure blending into the shadows of the room.

Startled, I clutched my chest, heart racing from the unexpected encounter. "Marigold, you nearly gave me a heart attack," I gasped, trying to steady my breathing.

Mari's gaze flickered towards Charlotte's room, her expression unreadable. "Dominik told you not to wake her," she reminded in a low tone. "You know how she gets when you leave her. It wasn't a wise choice, Rachel."

Feeling a pang of guilt, I nodded silently, realizing the impact of my actions. With a heavy sigh, I prepared myself for the difficult task ahead, knowing that leaving Charlotte behind was a sacrifice I had to make for now.

I watched as she retreated into Charlotte's room, glaring daggers as she closed the door behind her, the tension between us palpable in the air. I stood there for a moment, the silence of the house buzzing in my ears like a persistent drone, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within me. With a heavy exhale, I gathered my resolve and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The faint sound of a car engine humming in the distance pulled me back to the present, prompting me to make my way towards the awaiting vehicle, each step feeling heavier than the last as I left the turbulent scene behind me.

The weather once again mimicked the mood, a common occurrence for England, with dark clouds looming overhead and a chilly wind cutting through the air. Despite the dreariness of the day, there was a certain familiarity in the gray skies and mist that enveloped the surroundings, as if nature itself was reflecting the emotional turmoil within.

My eyes met the driver's, a silent exchange of gratitude passing between us as he held the car door open, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. Dominik's body stiff beside me, his presence a palpable force in the confined space of the car.

"I told you to leave her alone, Rachel. I told you not to wake her, and of course, you never listen." Dominik's voice was low, the words carrying a weight of frustration and disappointment.

He stared out the window, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside, the rigid set of his jaw betraying his inner turmoil.

"After your little emotional moment," Dominik's voice cut through the tense silence in the car, his words laced with a hint of frustration. He paused; the weight of his gaze heavy as he turned to look at me briefly before returning his attention to the road ahead. "You better hope we're not late getting to the airfield."

His words stung, a stark reminder of the consequences of my actions and the impact they had on our plans. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing that my emotional outburst had potentially jeopardized Dominik's mission and the success of the operation ahead. The weight of his disapproval bore down on me, adding to the already heavy atmosphere in the car.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to form a coherent response. The reality of the situation sank in, the urgency of our mission overshadowing any personal grievances or misunderstandings between us. With a deep breath, I nodded silently, understanding the gravity of the situation and the need to focus on the task at hand.

As the car started to move away, my thoughts were consumed by Charlotte. I had envisioned our trip to Thorpe Abbots with Dominik as a special event, a chance for us to bond and create lasting memories together. Dominik, poised to become the 2nd colonel in command, was about to embark on a crucial mission to take down the German forces, and I had hoped to support him in this pivotal moment of his career.

However, as the weight of our unspoken tensions and misunderstandings hung heavy in the air, I couldn't shake the feeling of missed opportunities and shattered expectations. What was meant to be a moment of triumph and unity now seemed clouded by discord and distance.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Maybe I'll Feel Better (Give Me Forty-Five)

or: the one where you two are elementary school teachers "judging" a gingerbread house competition. hasan takes it very seriously.

listen: the bad news is all i'm watching now is hallmark movies. this was like, super briefly mentioned in a movie i watched tonight so here's: something?

anyways y'all seem to like my teacher AUs (or at least tolerate them) so

more hasan here

the email ping got you first.

my room. noon. sharp. sharpened pencil and other supplies provided -Piker

you snort. your fingers hover over the keyboard, considering what to say next. hasan’s emails usually seem like he wrote them in between passing periods, as kids tug on his shirt sleeves, begging for milk containers to be opened and for shoelaces to be tied.

you stare at the email, start typing something, realize it sounds dumb, backspace and delete it. there's not much time to think about it, before the bell rings and the students pile back into the room.

Noon comes quickly. If you weren't lying to yourself, you'd be honest about how your dragging your feet across the hallway to Hasan’s classroom, where the near constant cheering and songs he makes up makes your head ache and pound at the end of your day.

You feel as if you can feel your kids eyeballs on the back of your head as you finally go to Hasan’s room, but you push it down quickly.

Hasan is pacing around his room.

Correction: Hasan wears a crooked Santa hat on his head as he paces back and forth.

"Hey," You knock gently, "Am I interrupting something?"

You seem like you're interrupting something, and you fight the urge to take your phone out of your pocket to check the time, even though you know you're right on time.

"Finally!" He smiles, a lopsided grin on his face, "Time to get down to business."

You hesitate in the doorway.

"Come on," He laughs, "Have to show you everything, we have a whole procedure to go over."

You walk to his desk, where he stands, a clipboard in his hand before he nudges you a small wooden clipboard, a small stack of stapled papers under the clip, little boxes that were obviously handmade that say: rating, student, comments its obviously made in MS Paint, and was thrown together last night, but as you run your fingers over the lines, you think of hasan, in his pajamas after a long day, his laptop on his lap, glasses crooked on the tip of his nose as he stays up half the night, putting together this paper to try and make the day a little more magical for all his students.

"Here, my class made this for you too." He looks down as he passes it, but it's a homemade ribbon out of construction paper; blues and reds and yellows, is pinned to his chest, says: #1 judge in slanted writing.

He slides one across the table to you, matches his, and a little safety pin is fixed to the back of it.

"I guess you take this very seriously." You tease as you pick it up, your hands fumble with it as you try to pin it to your shirt with no success.

"May I?" Hasan is at your elbow, his voice is low and gentle as he takes it out of your hands gently, pinches your shirt as he carefully pins it, his fingers are long but work perfectly to pin it with practiced ease.

He talks as he does so.

"Class worked all period on this," He mumbles as he pins it, adjusts it carefully, "Said we should at least act like we care about the cold war, but I think they were a little pre occupied."

He takes a step back, tilts his head: "Beautiful, it's perfect."

And you speak so he doesn't see your bright pink face: "I think they spelled judge wrong." you tease gently.

He tsks, like he didn't see it, "Amateur hour, I'll get to the bottom of it. Here-"

He slides you a small collection of pre sharpened pencils, all that have Mr.Piker’s Favorite Student etched into the side of them, sparkle when you turn them around in the fluorescent lighting.

"Nice pencils." You tease, and he beams, lets it roll off his shoulders, only seems embarrassed for a second:

"Thanks! Made 'em myself. Follow me, I'll explain everything to you when we walk to the auditorium."

It's a short walk.

The school is small, the auditorium even smaller, his class load only in the twenties, but he holds the door for you into the small room, and ignores his students squealing when they see him, a wink and a nod to them, like they're all involved in some inside joke that you aren't a part of-

the rules are simple enough. follow him with the clipboard, rate the art, try and narrow it down to the winner. he explains everyone's a winner, doesn't have the heart for everyone to walk out without some sort of award, even if it's most creative, or most frosting on the side of a house or-

"Hell," He'll even say, throwing his hands in the air as you get to the first house, "Most creative use of a gum drop, it doesn't matter. Everyone's a winner when I'm judging."

and you realize how he's so loved among the students, as they run to his side and pull on his shirt for him to kneel on the filthy floor and listen to them, speaking through broken teeth as they tell him the random gossip happening-

"This is a good one." You say at the second one.

The roof is crooked. Half hanging on, except through a prayer and an approximate shit ton of frosting and red and green skittles, it's still cute, well coated with candy-you think of hasan in a little apron running around his room as he makes sure all the students have gingerbread, frosting, all the candy and fixings-

"Most creative use of frosting, l'd say." hasan nods, scribbles something onto his clipboard.

You snort.

"Most creative use of skittles, obviously." You scribble something as he does, suddenly feel like you should be doing it as well.

He snorts now. "come on. The frosting job."

"The council has spoken, Hasan. I'm so sorry."

"The council," He laughs, "And you're the council, I take it?"

"Obviously."

"And any way to object the council?" He pushes.

"Give me five minutes, I'll bring it to the council." you tuck the pencil behind your ear.

It feels good, finally laughing. Being a first year teacher and spending most periods holed up in your room, eating a peanut butter sandwich at your desk, craning your neck and face turning bright red every time you hear someone passing your room, always afraid that it's you, that you're the punchline.

"And?" hasan pushes after a few houses.

"Bad news, bud." You tease gently, "Council denied it."

He groans, "Fuck. Let me see your notes."

you glance at his; for the most part, he takes it seriously, little notes in the boxes on the placement of frosting and color patterns, enough for any child to feel appreciated-

but in the corners are little flower stems and hearts, litte scribbles you can barely make out-

"No way," You giggle as you hold the clipboard close to your chest, trying to not laugh too loudly, because this seems dangerously close to flirting, and you aren't here for that-

"Come on," He pulls at your sleeve gently, "We gotta announce winners."

You nibble your lip.

Even being a teacher, teaching in front of these kids it's different then talking to these peers that you're terrified of, terrified of being a punchline to a joke-

"Come on," His voice comes quieter, gentler, no edge to it, "I'll be right here, l'm not going anywhere."

And you barely know him. Like, besides him popping his head into your classroom occasionally, gives you supplies when you need it, helped you hang decorations once in passing-

"Okay," you nods, "Yeah, okay."

and you follow as he leads to a makeshift stage.

Somehow, everything is less scary with hasan by your side now.

"Everyone," He clears his throat, "We have the winners. Now- you all are winners to us two-"

Load groans are heard around the room, boos from his students, but he puffs his chest out and smiles widely as he calls the students to the stage, little make shift awards he obviously spent lots of time creating out of different brightly colored construction paper as the two of you take turns pinning it to the children's shirts.

"We make a good team." hasan declares as he holds your hand to help you off the stage, the winners still get pats on the back and photos for the year book

You shrug, to downplay it all, "Yeah, I guess. You're pretty okay."

He lauahs "I'll take it. Come on I made the hot chocolate, and not to brag, but it's my best batch yet."

He doesn't let go of your hand as he leads you away from the stage, even with all eyes on you two

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Might fully write this as a whole story one day.

You come to Viktor with a serious inquiry:

“Do you know a doctor that can perform Hanahaki removal surgery?”

He was stunned at first. He didn’t even know you had feelings for someone but to ask for this?

“You know how risky that is, you could lose all love in your heart.” Viktor stated.

“Of course I do. That’s why I came to ask you. It’s been done, a successful removal. Sure the recovery period is long but I get to keep my memories with you guys. I’ll take the chance.” You were steadfast in your decision. This was the only way to rid yourself of this retched disease. You weren’t exactly happy about it either, the chance that you would lose all love for Viktor and Jace was high. However staying in love with someone until your heart breaks or you die is worse (of course you wouldn’t actually die though).

Viktor sighed, “Who is it, it you don’t mind me asking?”

You were almost too embarrassed to mention it, “Remember Sterling…”

Viktor sat up fully in his seat to really grasp the situation. Sterling was someone you both knew from your Academy days and he was a piece of work. A ‘Grade A’ jackass and flirt. It sucks that his looks matched his brains, being one of Piltover’s elites. He was destined to inherit his families company and live a life of luxury. And this, amalgamation of every stereotype rich boy, was the one causing you so much pain. Viktor could hardly believe it.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not proud of it either!” Your face flushed bright red. “It just…happened. We were talking and things got real for a second. I thought I saw a different side of him but it’s…ugh! It’s complicated Viktor!”

Still in disbelief, Viktor adjusted himself on the chair. He collected his thoughts before looking back up at you. “I will ask Professor Heimerdinger for help. Don’t worry, I’ll find the best doctor there is. You won’t lose a precious memories, I promise.”

“Thank you Vitya.” You smile. Viktor felt a small ache in his chest but ignored it. You said your goodbyes and Viktor started to draft his letter to the Professor. Your memories and friendship was on the line so he felt compelled to write as soon as possible.

Professor Heimerdinger reported back by the end of the day. He was deeply concerned with Viktor’s wellbeing. This disease was no joke! He had lost many a friend to the flower disease and Viktor was far too young to fall ill with it. Viktor stopped him in the middle of his speech as he explained the treatment was for you and not himself. He was very confused at first but agreed to contacting a very good doctor. Before Viktor leaves, the professor urges him to be careful and be kind to himself.

Viktor didn’t understand then. You met with the doctor and consulted with her many times. She was kind and truly understood what it meant to be afflicted. After the consultations, Viktor would be your shoulder to lean on. On the nights you were too sick, you would stay with him. Viktor’s apartment became your second home. Viktor was slowly starting to understand the Professor’s warning. He couldn’t think about that now, he needed to be here for you.

Around two weeks before your surgery you were walking to your scheduled visit when you saw him, Sterling. He was chatting with another girl when he said some choice words about you. He threw in a couple comments that you’d only get far in this world because you “suck up” to the HexTech guys. It didn’t just sting he thought of you this way, especially after this long but he dared to badmouth your two best friends as well. For once, your coughing stopped and you noticed a bud had landed in your hand. You took this to the doctor and she was intrigued. She examined it closely and came back with a smile on her face.

“Congratulations, you’re falling out of love.”

“What?!”

“Calm down, it’s only been reported in the last 60 years or so but there are cases of people falling out of love with their intended person. It was mostly reported in relationships that turned sour after years but yes, even crushes can die out.”

“Does this mean, I will lose all love in my heart?”

“Not necessarily, you’ll feel reluctant and wary but as for your friends and family, you will love them just the same. You may even fall in love again one day.”

You get somewhat relieved. The doctor continued, “About the buds in your lungs. You can have the stem cut but that runs the risk of the original surgery. Best I can do for you is give you some medicine for nausea, pain killers and recommend you take on less physical work. Also, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue our consultations with a therapist present so I can monitor the after effects.”

“Right…”

You left the consultation feeling lighter. Honestly seeing the doctor so excited over a bud, the proof that love dies, was amusing. The very thought of Sterling did fill your heart with a pit but one of disgust. Such an awful person who doesn’t know himself had the audacity to speak about you and your friends. The nerve!

You walked into the office and huffed into the seat next to Viktor. Without looking up from his notes, “You seem energetic today.”

“I’m not having the surgery.”

He almost fell out of his chair. Why would not have the surgery!? Have you fallen in love with Sterling?! Did he accept you?!

“I heard that jerk talking about me to another girl and he had the nerve to bring you and Jace into it! I don’t know it’s like- it’s like all my affection just died right then and there!” You explained what the doctor had said and how you would continue your rantings. Viktor felt a swell of pride in his chest. The fact that you were so annoyed on his behalf meant no matter what, your feelings would remain.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” he smiled.

“Honestly good riddance.” You scoffed “He doesn’t compare to you guys! You work so hard Vik, even when you were taking care of me!”

“I’d do it all again.” Viktor said. You sighed, finally relieved of your anger. You thanked him again for all he’s done and excused yourself to let him get back to work. Viktor waiting until you were out of the room to completely heave over the waste bin. It was filled with red stained petals.

How could he bring himself to tell you? Not now, not while you were free of this burden. He can wait it out, now that he was sure love dies.

[stellar-constellations]

An Alliance (Part 6)

        Fem! Spy! (Y/N) x Yuri Briar

        Parts: One, two, three, four, five, current part, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        (Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!

        The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story). 

        Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability). 

        The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.

        This series contains spoilers for the manga and anime!

        My dad read the Westalis newspaper where the headline was: “Ostania Threatens Westalis with Nuclear Warfare!” as me and my siblings played outside. He was outside on the porch watching us play in the sun. It was springtime, a nice and warm day where there were lots of clouds in the sky that helped with shade. My mom's nowhere to be seen, she's been gone for a while now. She left us when we were young so we didn't have a two income household, it made it hard to pay bills or cook dinners; but it taught me a lot about the real world, so I'm a glad I can see the bright side of it. 

        I had the rest of the day off from working at the bakery. The lady owning it told me to enjoy myself since things were really starting to look bright for us ever since Westalis and Ostania made that peace pact with us. I agreed, taking my paycheck and running home to go play outside with my siblings.

        My two younger brothers both chased my older sister around, playing tag and enjoying their youth. My older brother sat in the background (he wasn't much for socializing with us).

        My older sister had a pure heart and loved to spoil me as I was her only little sister. My two younger brothers were both troublemakers that very often got away with stuff (somehow nobody ever looked their way when things went south). My older brother never liked to hang out with us much, but I know he cares about us (he's just in his "I'm independent and don't need no family" phase).

        I don’t know why, but I decided to look up at the sky that day. Maybe because I wanted to see how long it'd be until sunset, but I found myself looking at something else. The clouds parted a path for a weird yellow thing in the sky. I gawked at it in amazement, before smiling and running to my dad in uneven zig-zags as any child does when they've not properly mastered balancing.

        “Dad! Dad!” I called out. “Is that a shooting star?” I questioned, pointing up to the sky. 

        He looked up at the sky, trying to see what I was talking about before his eyes widened.

        “Oh no.” He muttered, utter fear in his eyes and voice. “Everyone, get inside now!” he shouted.

        I looked at him confused, looking up at the sky in curiosity.

        “Why?” I questioned.

        “That’s a nuke!” he exclaimed, grabbing my arm as everyone ran inside due to his panicked voice.

        I quickly squirmed out of his grasp, scared of his sudden change of attitude. I didn't understand what war was; if anything, I thought it was good! Why else would neighboring kids be running around and playing games such as "cops and robbers" or "army"? Why would kids be playing a game that glamorizes the death and suffering of others? 

        “N-no! I have to make a wish, otherwise it won’t come true! That’s what sissy said.” I spoke, making a dumb excuse.

        “We don’t have time, come here!” he spoke, lunging for my arm. 

        I quickly retracted, turning and running away with the excuse of “at least let me get my chalk!” 

        I was scared and confused of his sudden change of attitude. It won’t hurt me, I’ve never heard of shooting stars crashing into Earth. I was set it was a star, not a nuke (not that I was even aware of what nukes were at the time). Besides, the star will be tiny! When it falls, I can pick it up and keep it in my pocket as a pet. That's how naive I was as a child.

        “(Y/N)!” my father screamed, frustrated.

        I turned around, seeing how the star went from over my to hitting something I couldn’t see from far behind the house. I looked at it, shocked at the sky flashed red for a second, before it returned normal. A blackish gray mushroom cloud appeared behind the house, growing big by the second.

        “Woah.” I spoke, shocked.

        It took a second, staring amazed at it, before I was hit with powerful winds as the sound of glass broke and the sound of trees getting ripped from their weakened roots. I barley heard the screaming of people before I was taken in the powerful wave of wind as my ears started to hurt. My body slammed against a tree, knocking the wind out of me as I hit my head. 

        The wind stopped and I fell to the ground, not defying gravity anymore as I cried, covering my ears. I could barely even hear my own cries, just the sound of a church bell that hurt the headache I was immediately forming. I smelt something awful as I realized my vision was completely gone.

        I held my ears, desperate to hear the ringing stop, and cried, curling myself into a ball from the pain. I don’t know how long I sat there before I tried standing up, swaying side to side as I took a blind step forward, only to trip on something thick and fall onto my knees. I crawled around, desperate to find a sense of familarity, before feeling a sharp pain stab into my hands. I wept louder, not knowing what hurt me as my vision didn't approve. 

        I stayed on the ground longer, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Eventually, I regained my vision from this light, but darkness. It was black and white, I really can't explain it in words. It's just not something you can explain. 

        I looked down at my hands and noticed blood that came from my ears. I ran to go tell my dad, but saw my house crushed, barely standing. I looked around in the rubble, trying to see if my dad or any of my siblings were alright. 

        I saw a hand from the rubble and notice it was my dad’s from the size and skin tone. I tried to move the bricks and debris but couldn’t. I tried to tug his hand but to no avail. I gave up, sitting down on the ground next to the hand and resulted to screaming and crying, hoping somebody would hear and save my family and I.

        I don’t know how long I was there, crying as my ears rang miserably and how my body ached, but I eventually heard shouts and the sounds of heavy tires and machinery, and looked up. People in green and huge, huge tanks came around.

        I realized it was the military and cried, standing up and running to them.

        “Oh, shit. A kid’s alive!” someone shouted. 

        They had a terrifying gas mask on their face as they looked at me.

        “My dad! My family! They’re trapped under the house!” I cried, pointing. "You gotta help them. I can't do it on my own!"

        The man looked over and sighed, kneeling down.

        “I’m sorry, kid, but we can’t save them. You can't be there, the Ostanian army is here.” He spoke as another man came up with a gas mask in his hand and on his face. “Here, wear this. It’ll help you breathe.” He spoke, taking the mask.

        “It’s a miracle we got here when we did. Ten minutes more out here in this radiation and you could’ve died, that, or the Ostanians...” The other man spoke, muttering that last part to himself.

        Even though I was seven at the time, I knew what death was; however, I didn’t know how gruesome it was. I didn’t know how cruel people could be. When I thought of death, I thought of old people with gray hair dying peaceful in bed, not young people robbed of their lives and lying in their childhood home's bricks and their own blood surrounding them.

        “W-what’s gonna happen now?” I questioned. 

        “The military has a shelter going on right now. We’ll bring you there. After that, the state government is gonna take care of you. Probably put you in an orphanage.” The first man spoke.

        And yet, even though I was seven, I had no idea how kids could live without a parental figure. I had no idea how someone could live in a house full of strangers. I had no idea how to accept their death, or my own that would probably be nearby.

        The tank’s hatch opened up, revealing another guy in a gas mask.

        “Then after we’re going to go kill those Ostanian fuckers for this!” he bellowed loudly, obviously angry.

        "Rancher, could you shut the hell up?! A kid is present!” the second man yelled back at the third one.

        A white van pulled up, their windows tinted, iron prison bars covering them as the door opened.

        “Hurry up and get into the van. Keep your gas mask on too while you’re in there for extra safety.” The first man spoke, pushing me into the van. 

        I entered with my head racing and my heart pounding. There wasn’t many survivors they’ve found. Five people out of the sixty seated bus must’ve been here. Some napped while others cried, and some stared outside of the window with disappoint and rage to see their homes and families gone.

        I sat down alone, deciding to be another one of those people who bottle up their emotions and stare out the window as their head bangs against it from the bus’ movements. 

        I’m going to destroy Ostania for everything they’ve done to us. I thought to myself. They'll atone for what they've done.         .         .         It wasn’t long after that nuke dropping that I found myself in a large shelter where alive civilians and the military were huddled down. I saw those guys once and thanked them for saving me, to which they said it was their jobs. 

        I was still mad at losing everything I had in just thirty seconds, so I decided to try and find a way into the military to help Ostanias downfall. Despite my many attempts to get into the military, they declined me each time for being under 18 and for being a girl.

        I slammed my head on the metal table, ignoring the sting on my forehead as a military officer came up to me.

        “Hey, Net.” I sighed, lifting my head.

        “You keep doing that every time you don’t get in you’re gonna kill yourself before even getting your application accepted.” He spoke, taking a bite from his food.

        “It’s no use. I’m a girl” I groaned. 

        “You’re still trying to get in?” he questioned.

        “Not try, I am gonna get in.” I stated defensively.

        “Here.” Net spoke, sliding me a piece of paper.

        “What is it?” I questioned, picking up the paper. 

        I recognized the form instantly from stealing it so many damn times. 

        “Woah. Dude, why are you giving me this? You could be in serious trouble!” I whispered.

        “Instead of remaining calm and peaceful like how you'd normally fill the form out, just fucking obliterate the thing.” Nat spoke.

        “Oh.” I muttered. “Thanks?” 

        “No problem. Hurry up and get to Gerald. But if anyone asks, then you stole it…again.” Nat ordered.

        “Yes, sir!” I chuckled, standing up from my chair and stealing a pen from Nat’s pocket.

        I ran to the military counselor’s tent, sitting down and quickly filling out the form with the most unprofessional and colorful vocabulary I never even dared to utter alone to myself. I reread it proudly, determined to get that position in the Westalis military. I opened the tent and sat down, seeing the military counselor was there with one of the squad captains. 

        "Excuse me, sir and sir." I acknowledged, bowing to show my respect. 

        I handed the paper to the counselor as he groaned, already knowing why I'm here and what this paper meant.

        "Yet again, you show up in my office like the stubborn little brat you are. I told you, children, and especially girls, aren't welcome in the Westalis mil–" Gerald gasped loudly, his face going pale as he stared at the paper with white-shot eyes. 

        He quickly flipped the page, and the next page, rereading the papers over and over again. 

        "Y-you..." he spluttered. "The audacity of you!" he shouted, grabbing a nearby yard stick and slapping my wrist with it.

        "Oi! You fucking wad of earwax!" I yelp, retracting my hand back as his face went even paler.

        "In front of the recruiter too?! Brats like you have no chance into the Westalis military!" Gerald spoke.

        "You bet! I'm done with your fucking shenanigans! You better count all your lucky pennies because if I don't get that position in the military, I'm gonna sneak my way into them tanks and rapid fire your tent to match my hometown!" I shouted, slamming my hands on his desk and taking his yard stick, slapping it against his wrists instead of mine.

        I ripped the paper out of Gerald's hands, giving it to the recruiter instead. 

        "Take it. You read it instead, you're the boss; not this leprechaun." I spat.        

        The recruiter kept a straight face before taking the paper. He read it, unamused and blank faced as I impatiently tapped my foot.

        "Twenty-six times I've entered this tent within two months, and no results. I'm not going to stop until I join your squad." I stated, standing my ground as I stood straight and tall, hoping to seem determined enough to make up for all my weak strength and sour attitude. "I know that I don't look like much, nor do I act it. I'm seven and a quarter. I'm not very strong or tall, and I've barely lived long enough to even be a pre-teen, but I'm smart enough to understand the government and give advice of a seventy-year old, and I swear to whatever God there is that there's no fucker in Ostania that going to want to cross me after they see what I'll do with their soldiers." I spoke. "So if you could give me a chance and prove myself to you, that'd be really fucking fantastic." I spoke, allowing the colorful word to brighten my sentence.

        "You're seven?" the recruiter spoke.

        "And a quarter." I spoke. "I can be useful! I'm fast and stealthy and my size helps me hide good. Ostania would never expect a girl to fight in the military, let alone a kid." I smiled. 

        "You realize you'll most certainly die within two days, maximum?" the recruiter questioned.

        "Sometimes you just gotta jump to know what's there." I replied, determination filling every ounce of my soul and body.

        The recruiter stared at me for a second, before looking at Gerald. 

        "Do you have this kid's other application forms?" he questioned.

        "You're not seriously going to allow this brat? Out of everyone?!" Gerald questioned.

        "Shut the hell up, Gerald." I snapped, slapping his wrist with the ruler. "Ain't nobody gonna join; everyone's too afraid to die or they're suffering from some major PTSD. You aren't gonna find a gal as determined as me to get this job." 

        "Give me her recent form." The recruiter demanded. 

        Gerald mumbled alienated words under his breath as he searched through his desk, pulling out a paper packet I gave him last week. The recruiter scanned through the papers for a good three minutes, before setting the papers down. 

        "You're recruited. Welcome, (Y/N) (L/N), to the Westalis Military." The recruiter spoke, a small smile on his face as he held out his hand. 

        I shook it proudly, cackling as Gerald tried his best not to break down to tears in the background. 

        .

        .

        A month went by with me in the military. It felt longer than it was, and it was absolutely exhausting. Just because I was a kid doesn't mean that the recruiter took any mercy on me. 

        ("You've got the body of a crazy kid, and the mind of an even crazier adult.") The recruiter once told me. ("If you give up now, I'll kill you myself for making me look like a fool to have you join us.")

        I experienced many bombings, tank firings, gunshots, and many comrades die. Nat and Hujo (that second man that helped me when Nat found me in Luwen, Eastern Westalis) both died in combat, their bulletproof vests being false advertising. I saw ####, a boy from my hometown, here. 

        I feel like I should’ve been happy to see someone I know alive, but me and #### never really got along well, even before the war. While he was seven years older and a quiet kid, he was a total pushover and aimed to please people. I was the rowdy and opinionated kid, ready to kick someone in the stomach and shout insults if they decided to pick on me. 

        We both lived in the small poor town of Luwen, the more poorer side of Westalis, but we made it work. And despite our many differences, we both had one common goal: to appease our parents. It amazed me how I never once saw him cry despite everything we've been through. He was older, taller, and stronger than me—something I was extremely envious of—and he became a squad commander after too many deaths, of my damn squad!

        I hated him for being tough. I hated him for being an amazing liar. And I despised that he knew how to keep his emotions to himself, while I frequently lashed out and cried. I was predictable; and he was a closed-book, and it pissed me off beyond belief. 

        Rations were getting smaller and smaller, but it wasn’t too much of a problem for soldiers since they kept falling like dominoes, but it was a problem for the survivors we kept finding. The survivors came with missing fingers, broken limbs, and charred faces, it was almost like Ostania wanted the civilians of Westalis to suffer, and that just pissed us off further. 

        I sighed, resting my head on the cool metal table. My body ached from the training I’m out to before having to be dispatched out for another rescue mission. 

        “You should eat that shit. You’re getting glares.”

        I sighed, lifting my head.

        “Sup, Rancher?” I spoke. 

        Rancher was off-duty for a few days after Nat and Hujo died. Rancher was best friends with the two of them for years, so he really took it to heart when they died. He was the loud and rowdy guy in the tank when Nat and Hujo found me. He looks like total shit too. His tanned skin got paler and his brown eyes seemed dull and darker then before, the death of his two buddies really took a toll on him.

        “You look like shit.” I admitted.

        “Not like you look any better.” He chuckled.

        “I’m still growing, so I have a chance at being tall and pretty; you’re too old to keep growing and you still look like a rat’s ass, just worse.” I laughed.

        “The bigger the bark, the smaller the dog is.” He smiled, causing me to glare at him.

        “Yeah? W-well…the stupider you are…the uglier!” I retorted, having no idea what I said as he laughed.

        “Alright. Well, hurry up eating. I’m going to join the rescue mission before I get kicked out.” Rancher spoke.

        “You sure, dude? I can come up with something for you. Like, something you ate went bad and you have food poisoning or some shit like that.” I suggested.

        “Nah. I figured Hujo would be pissed off and Nat would be scolding me if I stayed in bed any longer.” Rancher smiled sadly.

        “Take it easy, man. I’ll look out for you during the mission.” I spoke, patting his hand on the table before quickly shoveling my food down my throat, ignoring the plain and slightly repulsive taste it had. 

        I took a large sip of water to drown out the taste, then stood up.

        “Rightie-oh!” I spoke, faking a British accent to cheer Rancher up. “Shall we go?”

        “Yeah, sure.” He stood up—stretching and complaining about back problems—and walked out of the shelter’s roof to join the other soldiers. 

        The squad was—unfortunately—led by ####, who took the fake name “Roland” from Luwen to join the military. I was already in a sour mood thanks to #### and we haven’t even left!          .         .         A total fail. That’s what the mission was. Rancher was down, clutching his arm as he looked down at the wound. He had a hole in his chest and another in his forearm. The gun must’ve not been sighted since they missed all vital organs. 

        What an amateur… I thought, stuffing the wound in his chest with gauze.

        “The bullet is stuck deep in there. It’s not something I can remove, but the nurses at camp will get it. Show me your arm.” I demanded. 

        I grabbed his arm, slapping his other hand that tried to stop me.

        “Kid, you gotta get out of here. They’ll find you soon.” Rancher spoke, taking heavy breaths.

        “Shut the hell up, Rancher. You and your big ass mouth. I know they’ll come here!” I snapped. 

        “Then fucking abort the mission. You shouldn’t even be in this whole mess.” Rancher sighed.

        “Don’t try and give me final words like you’re dying; you’re going to live and I’ll make sure of it.” I spoke, determined as I stuff gauze into his arm, causing him to hiss at the pain.

        “You need to live and do whatever you can to complete that goal you decided to join the military for.” Rancher argued.

        I heard a branch snapped and quickly grabbed my gun, listening and shooting into the trees, as someone screamed and fell onto the ground not to far from here. 

        “Shit. I’m low on ammo.” I sighed.

        “Just get out of here.” Rancher ordered.

        “No.” I defied. “If I die, then I die. But I won’t. That mission can be postponed 'cause we’re both going to live. Now stop bitching.” I spoke, wrapping his arm with bandages to hold the gauze. 

        “You’re stubborn.” He growled.

        “You’re stupid.” I retorted. “Can you stand?” I questioned.

        “If I stand, I’ll pass out.” He spoke. 

        I nodded, grabbing his walkie-talkie from his belt and switching it to the channel our military agreed on using.

        “I need medical assistance. Soldier was shot twice and I’m low on ammo. His wounds have been caused and wrapped but he needs professional assistance. Over.” I spoke, repeating the line over and over until I heard a voice.

        “Affirmative. What’s the coordinates? Over.” The voice questioned.

        “Uh. Shit, probably...” I pulled out the map I had, fumbling with it. “Like... like 50°46'46.8" North 10°00'09.1" East? Over.” I spoke into the walkie-talkie.

        (Author note: These are random coordinates I found in Germany and are no means accurate.) 

        “Negative. We can’t send anyone there, over.” He spoke.

        “Well why the fuck not? Over!” I questioned.

        “Enemy territory. Abort the premises with or without the soldier. Over.” They spoke.

        “We’re in enemy territory because you fucking sent us in this mess, fucker! Over!” I hissed.

        The line went silent before speaking: “Abort the mission with or without the solider. Over.” 

        “This is (Y/N) (L/N)! I can’t carry him! Rancher is down, over!” I informed.

        “Oh, shit. You’re the kid? The seven-year-old kid?” the radio spoke, surprised that he didn’t even say “over”.

        “Yes! And I can’t get Rancher to a safe place with my size and strength. I need either back up or medical assistance! Over.” I hissed.

        “…Leave Rancher and get the hell out of there. War isn’t something a kid like yourself should be in. Over.” The man spoke.

        “I'm sick of everything telling me what I should be doing! I chose this path. And I’m choosing to save Rancher, and I swear to god if you don’t help us I’ll haunt you when I’m dead because mine and Rancher’s blood will be on your hands. Over.” I spat. 

        The line went silent for a bit, before it picked up: “We’ll see what we can do. Over.” 

        I sighed, grabbing my gun and unloading the magazine chamber to check how much ammo I have. 

        Five bullets. As long as I don’t run into any trouble, I can make it. I thought to myself.

        I grabbed Rancher’s gun to see how much ammo he has, not too surprised when I saw he had blew through it all. He's always been unsparing in our resources, whether it was food or ammo.

        “You can leave. They said they’ll probably do something, so I’ll be fine.” Rancher sighed, his face pale as sweat ran down it, whether from the heavy uniform we’re wearing in this heat or the blood loss.

        “Probably." I shrugged. "However, I told you I ain’t leaving. I told you I got your back, man.” 

        There’s no way I can turn back and leave, that’s how Nat and Hujo died. 

        “And do you have an off switch? Can you just shut up before the enemy finds us?” I sighed.

        “Can you not be so stubborn?” Rancher retorted. “And I’m not the one that was yelling in the walkie-talkie two minutes ago.” 

        “And?” I dared, causing Rancher to roll his eyes.

        I heard a branch snap and immediately raised up my gun.

        “Wait! It’s Roland! I’m on your side.” 

        #### stepped out of the bushes, causing me to groan and roll my eyes.

        #### looked like shit. He had a small stubble and had large eyeballs, obviously his sanity has deployed ever since the war officially set off, but so has mine, I supposed.

        “You’re so damn lucky I didn’t shoot you.” I sighed, placing my gun down on the dirt.

        “Yeah…” #### sighed, relieved that I actually didn’t. “Is Rancher okay?” 

        “He got shot twice; in his chest and arm. The bullets are too deep to get by hand, we need medical assistance. I’m afraid if we don’t get help, either he’d die from blood loss.” I sighed. 

        “Smart thinking. Good job.” #### spoke.

        I ignored the praise and the fluffy feeling in my chest, glad to have been seen as useful and smart, but I don’t want to here praise from that prick.

        “Yeah. I know from the med class I had to take to join...” I muttered. 

        Not like you didn’t take that class too. I thought, sarcastic.

        Gun fire broke out nearby as you can hear stomping from not to far off.

        “Crap…” #### muttered.

        “Pick him up and let’s go!” I whispered harshly.

        “I’m not going to be able to carry him with the heavy uniform and run and shoot.” #### stated.

        “Of course you can, you have to save him. That’s why you’re here!” I whispered, ignoring the tears that started to build up in my eyes from the hopeless feeling in my chest. 

        “We have to go.” #### spoke, calm and collected despite the gunfire and steps getting louder.

        “No.” I hissed.

        “(Y/N)!” Rancher hissed. “Fucking go. I would never forgive myself if I’m the cause of your death; not when you have so much left to do.” 

        “B-but… I can’t abandon you…” I whimpered.

        “I want you to listen to me. Leave and go do whatever you want with your life. Please. Do something I’ve never done and continue your legacy.” He chuckled.

        “No….” I muttered, unsure of my words.

        “We have to go!” #### whispered harsh.

        “No!” I hissed back.

        #### stared at me for a good second, our eyes rivaling each other before he swiftly scooping me up, balancing me on his shoulder, and running.

        “Hey! Let go!” I squirmed. “We have to go back and get Rancher.” By now, the panic and hopelessly fully took over, causing the dam in my eyes to break. “Please. We have to go back…” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling as more tears fell.

        “Sorry. I’m sorry.” #### spoke, his voice shaking.

        I could tell it was hard for him to leave Rancher too. Despite not knowing Rancher well, he was ####’s teammate, an ally, an amazing tanker with an amazing sense of humor, and a human. But for me, most importantly, he was my friend, and he reminded me of myself; stubborn and ready to fight no matter what. It’s hard to trade one’s life, even if they asked for it. 

        “I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He repeated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for Rancher, or our families. I can’t change the past to where I was stronger or where this war never happened, but I can at least change the present. And I want us to live.” 

        “I hate you.” I whimpered. “I hate how tough you are. How calm you are. And how you always know what to do and say. You stupid pushover and golden goose. I hate how you’re always Hercules.” I whined softly as more tears came down my face as I listened to the gunshots and yelling fading away as #### ran.

        “I’m not as perfect as you think.” He chuckled poorly.

        His tone surprised me, and I turned around to see his face. His blue eyes crying out their own sorrow as he focused his eyes ahead. I focused my attention back to the blurry ground as I allowed myself to cry some more.

        Sometimes. Me and #### are different people; stubborn and smart, strong and weak. Other times, we’re the same person with the same goal; trying to appease our parents, or just trying to survive.

        He stopped, placing me down and catching his breath as I sat on the ground, tears still in my eyes.

        “You’re not injured, right?” he questioned.

        “No.” I muttered. “Why’d you join the military?” I questioned.

        The question came out of nowhere, yes. But I wanted to know why #### joined. What could his reason be? 

        “When Ostania crossed the border. In just 60 seconds, everything I cared about was taken away from me. All that was left, was thing I despised. And that’s more than enough for me to pick up a gun and destroy Ostania.” He admitted.

        “We’re pretty similar…. Same reason I’m here.” I chuckled, wiping the tears out of my eyes.

        “How’d you even get in?” he questioned. "You're too young. I had to fake my age and name."

        “I had to do a lot of pestering and cussing.” I laughed. 

        A shuffle in the bushes was heard, causing me to stand up and #### to draw his gun as someone appeared out of the brushes. It was a man with curly brown hair and circular glasses and a piercing on his left ear. 

        “Bwah! Time-out! Time-out! Stop! Don’t shoot!”

        Did that grown-ass man really just “time out?”

        Surprisingly, #### held his fire, sizing up the man.

        “You’re Ostanian Infantry, yeah?” #### spoke.

        “Gah! Westalis soldiers—is that a kid...?” he muttered the last part confused as he held his hands in the air.

        I glared at him and pulled my own gun out, causing him to begin freaking out again.

        “Where is your gun?” #### asked.

        “I don’t have one! I’m unarmed! I surrender!” he quickly spoke, then sighed. “I… look, I deserted. I just couldn’t take it anymore. But I got lost and have been wandering around in these mountains for two whole days… so please can you give me something to eat?!” he shouted, putting his hands together and begging.

        “I don’t have rations to spare on dead men. Say goodbye.” #### spoke calmly.

        “Wait! Please! I’m begging you! I don’t wanna die having never been with a woman!” he screamed loudly.

        Men are so simple minded… I thought to myself, yet chuckled as #### did.

        “All right. I can give you one cigarette.” #### spoke. 

        “Oh, thanks.” The man spoke, taking a cigarette has #### lit it.

        “I didn’t know you smoked.” I spoke up.

        “There‘a a lot of things I do that you don’t know.” #### commented.

        “Oh, okay, creep. Like that wasn’t weird.” I commented myself.

        “What’s with the kid?” the man asked.

        “Are you the one holding the gun? No? Don’t question it.” I huffed, holding up my gun.

        “Sorry, sorry!” he quickly wailed.

        Soon enough, #### and the man started to click together, a weird combination in this war.

        If I go back now, I wonder if Rancher would still be alive, if unspotted from the Ostanian military, that is. I thought to myself, sighing as I drew my focus back to the conversation.

        “But you know, they actually do some interesting research at that university!” the man spoke. “Like, they got all these test subjects and showed ‘em a film of a guy getting slapped, right? And they showed signs of discomfort ‘cause their brains emphasized with the guy’s pain. And that means its human nature to avoid violence.”

        “But the thing is they ran the experiment again, and this time they told the subjects that the guy gets slapped by his lover because he cheated on her. So what do you think happened? When they watched it, the subjects brains showed signs of pleasure!” he explained.

        I think if I saw someone get slapped, I’d laugh without even knowing the reason. I thought to myself. Maybe if I convince #### to slap this guy, we can see. I thought impulsively.

        “I mean, doesn’t it freak you out? They have no idea if they’re being told the truth, but once the idea’s in their head, they do a complete 180°. Weird, right?” the man spoke.

        I feel like this is going somewhere. But I can understand what he’s saying. I thought to myself. I looked at my gun, feeling the weight in my hands and the heavy burden it was to carry it. 

        It’s be easier to drop it and walk away. I can barely hold this weight on my own. Someone else can; someone stronger and less sensitive. 

        I looked at ####, who seemed slightly frustrated. 

        “Just say what you’re trying to say!” he ordered.

        “I’m just saying, isn’t it stupid? This whole war between East and West, it’s all the result of some diplomatic fiasco. So why is it that all of us worthless peona gotta be the ones to clean us their mess?” he sighed. “They tell us to hate each other. So we fight. And then we die. It’s the most pointless thing in the world.” 

        I didn’t know it at the time, but I was playing as a small cog in the machine—we all were. But the things with machines, is that they’re specially designed and assigned certain tasks. But once a cog is lost, the machine cannot perform its chores unless another cog takes the place of the previous one. It's easy to replace an old, broken cog with a new, naive one.

        To put it in simple terms, the government, the war, needs us in order to win, and when we die, we’re easily replaced by another solider. 

        I’m surprised I’m not dead yet. I thought to myself. I have no major injuries and I still have a comrade with me—I doubt most of our soldiers have that. 

        All of the soldiers sent on this rescue mission are probably dead (with the exception of me and ####). 

        “Yeah, except it’s you Ostanians that started this war.” #### pointed out.

        “In the East, they say it was the West that started it.” The man stated. “They say that first bombing of Luwen was a false flag operation. They’re even rumors Westalis got operatives from some other country to incite the Ostanian Army was doing it.” 

        I turned my head to ####, curious of his reaction.

        I’m an open-minded person when it comes to politics or law as long as it doesn’t go against my moral code. I’d rather research to the ends of the Earth for the truth rather than believe in a simple lie. I’ll take this man’s words and place it on the back burner for when the time is right, to where I can find the truth, whether it’d be today or tomorrow or years from now.

        Some Shakesphere I am, I thought to myself, watching has #### held his gun to the man.

        “That’s just blatant propaganda to get your country off the hook!” #### shouted. 

        “Yeah! Yeah, right, of course it is! I’m just saying, how could a bunch of foot soldiers like us know the truth about anything?” the man immediately spoke, putting his hands in the air to prove no threat as I groaned.

        #### isn’t really all that open-minded, though.

        “That day! That bombing! Those bombs killed every last one of my friends! There’s your truth!” #### spoke.

        “Our families died in that bombing. Whether Westalis or Ostania started it, it’s no way for anyone to die.” I spoke, closely eyeing ####’s finger as he held it on the trigger.

        “Well, I’m in the exact same boat!” he spoke.

        #### gritted his teeth and kicked the man down to the ground, his glasses getting knocked off his face. Just then, gunfire from the bushes danced in the wind, causing me to yelp and duck to the ground, helpless as a I felt a searing pain in my side and leg. A bullet hit ####’s helmet, but luckily it didn’t pierce it.

        “Gah! The Ostanian army squad that’s been chasing me! You just had to try and shoot me and give our position away!” the man complained. “Well, no way in hell I’m letting them catch me! See ya! Thanks for the cigarettes, I guess.” He yelled, running away.

        I crawled to #### using my body to protect his down body. 

        His ears are probably ringing since the metal helmet just got hit. I thought. 

        “If you can run, go away. I’ll be fine.” I spoke through the gunfire.

        #### huffed, getting up on his knees and picking me and his gun up. 

        “I’m not gonna abandon you! Not when I have the power to save you!” #### yelled through the bullets.

        I sighed.

        He’s just as stubborn as me. But he should really let me die. It’s not like there’s anyone alive who’d miss me, and ####’s using me as a replacement for the friends he couldn’t save. So there’s no point for me to live, and all I’ve been is useless and problematic. I couldn’t save any of my friends, family, comrades, or even myself.

        “Thanks for being such a suck-up.” I spoke, wincing at each step he took since it threw my body around like a rag doll, hurting my wounds.

        “Let’s save the tears for when we get back alive.” He gruffed.         .         .

        What am I doing? Getting emotional like this? I hate getting emotional. I thought, snapping out of my thoughts and rubbing the tears from my eyes. I guess that's another reason I quit being a spy. I thought. 

        I don't really like to use violence anymore. I'll fight and shoot if I have to, but I don't like turning to it unless it's necessary. I'm afraid if I pick up a gun again, then all of my anger and sadness would return and control my actions just like it did before.

        ...That's stupid. I can't believe I just lied to myself in my own head.

        The real reason I don't want to fight is because it hurts more than anyone can imagine. When people see war movies or read the books, they always think "yeah, I can do that." But once the first bullet flies, they all follow. When the sky has turn gray from tank smoke and fires from the bombings. When the bullets fall from the sky like rain and you're ordered to engage in battle; you don't want to. Who would want to?

        Nobody wants to actually die. When they're in the face of danger, they're looking for a way to fight or a way to flee. When you're actually experiencing something as stressful and traumatic as that, you realize that every plan you've been brainstorming inside that little head of yours had ran away with your bravery and rationality. The only thing you'll be thinking of is a way out, a way away from the men in guns, a place to hide or a weapon to protect yourself with. Humans are made with fear; it's how we survive. 

        Fear is a human's best friend and worst nemesis. Fear navigates you away from danger, and it also forces you to think unclear. Fear is one of the human's survival instincts, so when you find it hard to breathe or your chest starts racing; don't ignore it.

        I sighed, turning my body to Yuri and observing his face. 

        He's seriously so annoying. He's always so focused on work and how I'll betray him. He's probably always thinking about his sister, I wouldn't be surprised if he was dreaming about her. I thought, reaching my hand up and letting my intrusive thoughts win as I poked his injured forehead lightly, just barley any touch.

        "You. Are. Stupid." I spoke, believing the words I said with every poke. "But..." I paused, thinking of what to say to the unconscious Yuri. "I don't think I'd want to be anyone else's wife." I admitted. "Don't think it's a compliment though, jerk." I huffed, going back to poking his forehead until I got bored. 

        I sighed again, trying to close my eyes and sleep, but the silence and the dark really started to bother me. I could hear the steps of the neighbor's above us, or is there something crawling on the ceiling and watching me. I could hear the air conditioning, or is it a monster breathing? Or the neighbor's opening their doors, or is that our front door?

        The bedroom door creaked open and I froze, my arms immediately latching onto Yuri as I kept quiet, my heart in my throat as I could hear it beat loudly.

        Wait? What the hell am I doing?! I should be protecting Yuri since he's unconscious!

        I gathered my nerves and opened my eyes, almost screaming once I saw a face staring down at me. They quickly covered my mouth, then spoke.

        "Don't scream. It's me." They spoke. 

        I recognized the voice as Twilight's and immediately felt angry and relieved. I carefully got out of the bed, gripping Twilight's sleeve and dragging him out to the living room, delicately closing the door as to not disturb Yuri. 

        "I almost pissed myself, asshole!" I hissed, slapping his arm. 

        "Sorry..." he whispered, then cleared his throat. "I just wanted to know why you're quitting the spy industry." He spoke.

        "Oh ho ho! Is the ever so great Twilight actually caring about me?" I teased, then cleared my own throat. "In actuality. I don't like risking my life all the time. It's not fun to get hurt and worry about if you'll ever see the people you love again." I sighed. 

        "What are you talking about? You don't have a lover—" His eyes widen, voice silently before he looked at me, mouth gaping open and shut like a fish. "Y-you actually love Yuri?! I thought you were kidding!" he questioned.

        "Tsk! Of course not!" I exclaimed, slapping his hand. "I want to be able to live long enough to have a lover, and in this case, Yuri is my 'lover!'" I spoke with quotation marks on my fingers.

        "How'd you meet him?" he questioned.

        "Oh yeah. Some mole ratted me out like a little bitch to the SSS when he got caught, then they caught me after a long chase that lasted a few weeks, next thing you know, I'm being interviewed and signed a contract to work with the SSS in order to keep my life—" the words came out of my mouth before I could think of the consequences from them.

        I started to open and close my mouth like a fish (and like what Twilight did earlier).

        "So, you're leaving because they've got you hostage?" Twilight spoke.

        "No! No!" I quickly shut down the idea. "Well. I mean, I don't want to work with the SSS, and I don't want to work with Westalian Intelligence either. I just want to live a normal life, but then this happened." I sighed. 

        "So there's nothing between you and Yuri?" he questioned.

        "Nope." I spoke, popping the p.

        "And you're sure?" Twilight questioned.

        "Of course I'm sure, why do you care so much?" I questioned.

        "Because he's the enemy!" Twilight hissed. "That, and he's the one killing off our spies. You don't care about that?" he spoke.

        "Of course I care." I snapped, offended that he would think I wouldn't. "But I'm not going to mope about the past and get myself killed. Besides, it's not like the Westalian Intelligence cares about if I ditch or not." I sighed. "But they'll kill me if they know I'm in the SSS, so you better not spill it. I told them absolutely nothing about the people in charge or even you, Twilight. So you better keep your mouth shut because I don't care if we've known each other for years or if you're the greatest spy, you cross me and I'll find a way to make you regret it." I threatened, pointing my nail to his throat.

        "Alright. I understand." Twilight spoke calmly. "But you're sure there's no feelings attached?"

        "Yeah. I don't need to be worrying about that stuff. I'm only here so I can live, and trust me, he doesn't care about if I live or die either." I smiled.

        "I don't know, you two were quite something today." Twilight spoke, causing my face to heat up.

        "W-well, of course! I didn't just work on hacking into databases or gathering information inside forces, you know. So, you're not the only one who can lie and disguise themselves. Remember, I trained alongside you, so I know almost everything you know." I spoke, turning my head away to hide my face. "Besides, he's more of a jerk behind closed doors." 

        I sighed, remembering his douche personality. 

        ("Just so you know, I'm not looking for this to be a real thing. When we're in public and at work, we'll act close—but don't expect anything kind of special treatment behind closed doors. Our 'marriage' is just a piece of paper that can easily be destroyed. The only thing that we have in common is work; nothing else." The second-lieutenant spat harshly as he walked closer to me, standing tall as he looked down at me in more ways than one.) 

        Yeah, he's a mega douche. I thought. I still wanna know his damn problem...

        "Alright. Good." Twilight spoke.

        "What about you and Yor. I don't know about you, but I almost facepalmed eight different times in five minutes. You need to get Yor to work on her acting skills." I pointed out.

        "I know." He sighed. "But she's just so..." he paused, thinking. "She's a little...simple-minded, I guess." 

        "It runs in the Briar family." I laughed. "Now, you should leave before Yuri wakes up and freaks out. He doesn't really like you, if you haven't noticed." 

        "Yeah." He spoke, fixing his coat. "Thanks for your hard work at the Westalian Intelligence. I hope we'll meet again." 

        "Don't think because I'm leaving the force that you're never going to see me again. You've been a close friend of mine for years now, so I consider you my family. Besides, we're in-laws." I teased. "And even if we never see each other, I'll just haunt your ass from beyond the grave." I joked.

        Twilight chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Goodbye, (Y/N)." He spoke.

        "Bye, ####." I responded.

        He stood there for a second, shocked to hear his birth name after so long of using Twilight, before smiling and parting.

        I'm not too sure why they gave #### the codename "Twilight" but I know they gave me the codename "Vixen" because I usually went undercover, disguising myself in the night and manipulating others to get information out of them (I'm not too fond of it either, but I convinced myself that business is business).

        When we got our codenames, we were told that our old names meant nothing and that our old lives don't matter anymore. I agreed to the terms, but there was no way I was gonna forget my past, not when it's made me the person I am today. 

        Twilight left, closing the front door as I locked it. I looked at the time, noticing it was 1 A.M. 

        Damn. Tonight's been a long one. I thought, sighing as I stretched and walked back to the bedroom.

        Yuri was still dead asleep. I carefully observed his face to make sure he wasn't faking it in case he heard the conversation. I grabbed Flower and dangled it over his head, seeing for a reaction, but none. I poked his cheek, making sure his eyes didn't twitch before concluding he wasn't faking it.

        Good. It must be the alcohol that made him pass out. I thought.

        I crawled back into bed, placing Flower in my arms and lying on my side to face away from Yuri. I concluded I didn't like the position, and switched to facing Yuri. He was still in the same spot as earlier, still facing me. I grabbed his hand and held it, believing that his position was comfortable enough before sleeping. 

        Parts: One, two, three, four, five, current part, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        Want more Yuri content? Check out these headcannons and one shots!

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        Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist (Please request, I have too much free time and too little fics).

[kittiwittebane]

Obsessed with the roller skates / council boy Huntlow thing!

Accept this gift of mine💚💛

Basically Dana tweeted somthing bout FANART and willow in roller skates, hunter wearing this school representative council looking shirt. Willow= baddie. Hunter= stern but sweet.

So here’s a little thing.

_____________

Early morning sunshine danced through the quad of Hexside High School, brightening the mood of the area as it reached it's way into the hallways via windows.

Hunter looked down the hallway in pride. Clean as its ever been. He smiled to himself.

Right, another school will be here today so I have to keep this place looking-

"AHh- oOf!" Willow grunted as she fell over. Hunter turned around to find Willow, the only one who just will not follow the rules, upside down on the ground, in her usual dress code violation choice of clothing. White school shirt with the black pants and grey skirt, a large green bow on her shirt.

And her bright yellow rollerskates.

"Miss Park, you know you aren't allowed to wear those!" Hunter scoffed as he helped her up. She smiled at him and replied.

"Oh but Mr. Wittebane, I don't want to be late to class." She mocked him slightly, adding her usual playful tone into the mix. Hunter's ears went red

Titan-damn you. What have you done to me?

"Find another way." he remained stern, but Willow knew his mind was freaking out.

"Hmmm... no." Willow smirked, leaning up against him. "I don't think I will."

Hunter turned away as his blush tried to give him away.

"I could give you a detention at any time-"

"Do it." Willow snorted. "Go on."

Hunter paused. He looked at her and frowned.

"You have a lunchtime detention today." he said.

"And what if I don't show up." Willow asked, popping the 'p' sound. The blondie whined in annoyance. He couldn't even give her detention.

I DO NOT LIKE HER! He repeated to himself. That was a complete lie, he couldn't stop himself from seeing sparkles and bubbles around her, and he knew it, but he didn't want to admit it. He knew this is why she got away with breaking rules, he knew this is why she was so rebellious. She knew he couldn't get himself to throw her into detention. He hoped she didn't know why.

"Get to class!" he snapped, mad at himself more than her. She smirked, knowing she'd won the argument once again, and roller skated to class.

__LUNCH TIME

Willow rolled down the hallway.

"Miss Park you aren't allowed to wear-"

"This that all you know how to say?" Willow interrupted, giggling. Hunter rolled his eyes.

"It seems to be all I need to know how to say." He snapped. She giggled.

"Look, Blondie, you can throw me in detention, or you can sit there sulking. Do one." Willow challenged. Hunter growled lowly, knowing exactly which one he was going to end up doing. He looked at her sulkily, and she just smiled her usual 'I'm better than you' smile.

Or that's what Hunter thought it was.

She smirked at him before roller skating away to the cafeteria. Ugh! Why couldn't he do anything? The school would be perfect if he was just a bit less emotional. She was just a classmate! She was nothing more but another student that sat with him in classes! Nothing more, and never will be anything more. He leant up against the locker, silently cursing himself. After what he thought was five minutes but in reality was the entire 20 minutes, the class bell rang.

"Oh, I'm so stupid.." he hissed at himself. Third period and he forgot to eat, too busy thinking about how perfect he was without Willow.

He walked to class with a sulky look, knowing he did not want the school to be messed up before the other school comes. Surely one student couldn't mess up a whole school.. right?

He sat down in class, and Willow came and sat down next to him.

"You're grumpy." She commented. He whipped his head to her.

"I forgot to eat." He snapped quietly, not really feeling to interact at the current moment. Willow tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Don't you pack lunch? Just eat in class, no one cares." Willow suggested. Hunter wanted to slap himself across the face.

"I do not pack lunch.. I feed off the cafeteria. It's fine, I don't eat over the weekend much anyways, I'll live." He muttered. Willows eyes went wide.

"You don't eat on the weekend?" She asked, alarm raking her voice unexpectedly, caught off guard by his statement.

"N-no I do! I just don't eat much." He explained. And what he meant by that was he stole leftovers from the cafeteria and took them home, which he eats on the weekend. And whatever edible plants he can find. Otherwise it was just bread and water.

"Oh." She started. She opened her bag and pulled out what looked like two pieces of bread put together.

"Have this." She smiled. Hunter looked at her, then the bread.

"Why are you being nice to me?" He asked.

"Why not?" She shrugged, putting the sandwich on his table. He looked at her, then the bread again. At least it was something...

He took a bit out of the bread and he had the most delighted look on his face. Willow wished she could've taken a photo. She'd never seen him smile before. Guess he liked chicken.

"Willow, what is this?" He asked, forgetting all about why he was grumpy in the first place.

"Chicken?" She answered. You could see the sparkles in Hunters eyes.

"I love chicken!" He exclaimed quietly, eating the rest of the sandwich very quickly. He looked like a puppy. His magenta eyes seemed bigger, and like they had sparkles in them. He had a smile she'd never seen, but really, she'd never seen him even smile before. She couldn't help but admire him. Out of context it would sound weird, admiring a cute guy eat a sandwich, but in context...

He looked back at her, who still had the head-over-heels look on her face, resting her face on her hand, rested against the table.

"You ok?" He asked.

"I've never seen you smile before." She said with a hint of dream in her voice, just to play with his feelings.

The look of realisation when Willow told him he was smiling sent butterflies through her stomach. He attempted to act all stern again.

"Thank you for the chicken-bread, Miss Park." He looked at her once again. She was smirking like crazy.

"Call me Willow, please." She purred. His face went a bit red, as did his ears. His cleared his voice and tried to catch up with the work he'd missed before the next bell rang.

“Also it’s called a sandwich, silly.” She smiled in amusement, as Hunter’s grumpy look returned after being corrected by her.

Should I do part 2?

Edit: just needed to add the fact the way Hunter looks is how Callum looks when he says “IM A MAGE!” In The Dragon Prince. Those eyes.

Also if you want more fluff like this, I have a Wattpad account:

@Kittimoonshadow

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short. 

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor 

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like. 

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far. 

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste. 

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands. 

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another. 

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons. 

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather. 

Oh, gods. 

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.” 

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.” 

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it. 

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow. 

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair. 

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway. 

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.” 

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.” 

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs. 

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. 

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . . 

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly���personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness. 

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me. 

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly. 

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?” 

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going. 

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?” 

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead. 

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked. 

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

��Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.” 

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?” 

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds. 

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath. 

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.   

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart. 

[psychics4unet]

Pickl A Card & Discover What Your Future Spouse Thinks of You Right Now! 💖🔮

Instructions: Look at the 3 images of the piles below. Choose the pile that you feel most drawn to. Trust your intuition and select the one that resonates with you the most. Once you have made your choice, scroll down to read the description for the pile you selected. ✨💖🔍

I put a lot of effort into this reading, so please show some love by leaving comments, likes, reblogs, and follow me! ❤️💬✨🌈

Paid psychic reading (7 questions for just $7) is available here:

Pile 1: The Lovers ❤️👫, Eight of Pentacles 💪✨, The Sun ☀️😊 The Lovers suggests a deep connection, showing that your future spouse feels a strong bond with you. They likely see you as someone who completes them. The Eight of Pentacles indicates they appreciate your hard work and dedication, admiring your commitment to personal growth. The Sun brings joy and positivity, suggesting they see you as a source of happiness and warmth in their life. Together, these cards reflect a relationship built on love, admiration, and a shared vision for a bright future. 🌈💖✨ Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Pile 2: The Hermit 🧙‍♂️🔍, Two of Cups 💕🥂, Ace of Swords ⚔️💡 The Hermit indicates that your future spouse may be in a period of introspection, reflecting on their feelings for you. The Two of Cups shows a mutual attraction and emotional connection, suggesting they feel a bond that goes beyond the surface. The Ace of Swords brings clarity and truth, indicating they see you as someone who brings new perspectives and honest communication into their life. Collectively, these cards reveal a deepening connection fueled by reflection, emotional honesty, and a genuine partnership. 🌊💖✨ Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌈💫

Pile 3: The Chariot 🚗💨, Four of Wands 🎉🏡, Queen of Cups 👑💧 The Chariot signifies determination, suggesting your future spouse admires your drive and ambition. The Four of Wands indicates they see a future with you filled with celebration and stability, perhaps envisioning a happy home together. The Queen of Cups shows emotional depth, highlighting that they appreciate your nurturing side and how you make them feel understood. Together, these cards represent a strong, supportive relationship filled with shared goals, love, and emotional connection. 💞🌈✨ Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best. Remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for more cosmic guidance and positivity! 🌌✨💖

Paid readings (7 questions for just $7) are also available for more in-depth insights and personal guidance! 🌟💫

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter47: Epilogue Katsu settles in in Azuchi. Plus kittens.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Azuchi, Six weeks later…

The maids were going to kill me. Having been one myself, I understood the frustration of someone dripping mud across a freshly cleaned floor. But even though I left my mucky geta at the entry, there was no way to stop the rest of my clothing from scattering dirty water all the way down the corridor.

“You should just let Katsuko decide.” Though I’d intended to go change into dry clothes, I ended up halting by the door to Mitsuhide’s office area when I heard Toshiie’s voice.

What is this all about?

Before I could hide behind the door to eavesdrop, Mitsuhide called out. “I hear you out there, Brat, you might as well come in.”

As I entered, both took in my barefoot and soaked appearance with varying levels of concern (Toshiie) and amusement (Mitsuhide). I sighed. “Yes. My horse dumped me in a puddle again. Yes, in front of Nobunaga.”

On the bright side it had been after the afternoon of negotiations with a contingent of Nanban merchants, so at least I hadn’t spent the day messy and uncomfortable. Far from being insulted that one of his entourage had suffered an embarrassing splat, Nobunaga had been amused by the whole thing. Though he was still an imposing authority figure, and a stern boss, I suspected that below all that was an inner troll.

Mitsuhide took off his socks and passed them to me.

“Funny. That horse never does that to Ieyasu.” Toshiie’s comment confirmed to me that Ieyasu had continued to secretly ride her on the days where I was occupied with my duties as Nobunaga’s translator.

Eager to move the conversation away from my latest riding mishap, I turned to Toshiie. “What are you doing here?”

Usually at this time of day, he was in Ieyasu’s manor, while the two spent the afternoons exchanging medical knowledge. Now looking much more like the brother I remembered, he’d been enthusiastically training in feudal medicine. To everyone’s surprise, Ieyasu appeared not only to tolerate his company, but actually enjoy it.

Immediately Toshiie clammed up, looking furtive. Mitsuhide simply raised his eyebrow. Oh. Another romantic gesture was incoming. Mitsuhide had taken to love bombing me with just-because gifts. The gestures were always thoughtful, though occasionally embarrassingly timed, such as when he had Keiji perform a K-pop ballad in the middle of a banquet. (“How did you remember all the lyrics and teach it to him?” “I have my ways.”)

Hm. I would get nothing out of Toshiie with Mitsuhide around – I would have to privately interrogate my brother later.

“Come over here – I haven’t seen my darling fiancée all day.” Mitsuhide patted a spot on the floor next to him. I was soaked and muddy, but… details. If Mitsuhide wanted to be covered with ambient muck, who was I to stop him? After kissing me thoroughly (much to Toshiie’s embarrassment) Mitsuhide easily switched to business mode. “Was your day a success?”

“Yes to the negotiation, no to the drawing.” Before leaving modern Japan, I had printed out a screencap of Father Slappy Hands, and Mai had tried to draw him wearing period appropriate costume. I’d taken the drawing with me to show it to the Nanban merchants, but none of them recognized him. Nor had I been able to locate Francisco to question him about the man (or the gun).  He was still playing least-in-sight, and his business had been shuttered all winter.

Removing the drawing from the leather tube that had protected it when I splashed down, I unrolled it and showed it to Toshiie. “Do you remember this guy?” It was unlikely he would recognize the man who had spied on the gymnastics meet. It had been nearly fifteen years and Toshiie only had him on camera for a few seconds. So I was surprised when Toshiie said, “Nuno da Guerra. Why is he dressed as a missionary?”

Mitsuhide pulled our original screencap out of his desk and passed it to Toshiie. “Same man?”

Toshiie squinted at it. “Could be. What is this about?”

“He attacked us in Sakai. Once when we were investigating a slave auctions, and then a couple weeks after that.” At my selective edit (Toshiie did not need to know exactly how I had been investigating that) Mitsuhide raised his eyebrow, but let the omission go. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t know much about him at all. He would sometimes visit the herbalist.” Toshiie gave a bit of a shrug. “But… there are rumors that he’s bringing in opium from Goa.”

“That would certainly be a deviation from history.” A new voice came from the ceiling, then a moment later, Sasuke popped into the room with a graceful flip.”

“Dear me. Are you at all aware of a concept called… a door?” Mitsuhide gestured to his rifle, which was within reaching distance. “One of these days someone is going to hear you scrabbling around up there, shoot first, then question later.”

“If I ever made enough noise to, um, scrabble, Kenshin would skewer me before I lever left Kasugayama.” Sasuke turned and bowed to Toshiie. “Greetings and salutations. I take it you are Katsu’s brother.” He raised his hand in a Vulcan salute.

Since Sasuke’s greeting had only served to confuse Toshiie, I introduced the two of them and explained the future connection.

“Before this conversation can degenerate into a litany of modern Japanese cultural touchstones-,” MItsuhide’s eyebrow raise was in full force, “will you please expand on what it is you were talking about when you so charmingly… dropped in.”

Sasuke pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Historically, Japan never had the type of … issue… with opium that the Chinese empire did. Although its use medicinally dates from this period, it was rarely used recreationally, and by the nineteenth century the Tokugawa shogunate proactively banned it. Therefore, a foreign merchant attempting to disseminate it as a drug in this era, could theoretically do a fair amount of damage to a culture that has not been inoculated by China’s bad example.” Having dropped that lecture on us, Sasuke turned to Toshiie. “Did I hear you say you were working with the one and only Tokugawa Ieyasu? Would you mind if I accompanied you back? I’m eager to hear your impressions of that man.”

Seeming bemused by the torrent of words, Toshiie simply nodded.

“Wait, Sasuke. Were you just in the ceiling to spy?” Seemed like a rather large risk, especially when he could easily have just walked in through the entry.

“Ah. It escaped my mind when I heard him mention Ieyasu.” Sasuke dug a letter out of his kimono. “Yoshimoto sent this.”

Moving quickly, I grabbed the letter before Mitsuhide could confiscate it. “Thanks, Sasuke.”

He and Toshiie were already on their way out, with Sasuke eagerly listing his favorite Ieyasu accomplishments.

“It’s probably for both of us,” I said to Mitsuhide, hoping to prevent a sarcastic-

“Ah yes. Of course. I am accustomed to receiving love letters from a resident of Kasugayama.” He pulled me closer to him. “Hm, you are indeed quite damp.”

“There’s a thing called rain that you may have heard about.” Then, because I doubted he would let me leave with an unopened letter, I unsealed it and held it up so that we could both read it. “Save you the trouble of stealing it later.”

“Pity. I quite enjoy your attempts to ransom back your belongings.” He rested his chin on my shoulder and began narrating the letter. “’Dear Katsuko.’ Hrm. Inauspicious beginning. I would think you’d rate a darling at least.”

“If you’re going to snark all the way through this-“

“I make no promises.”

Sigh.

“I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for the letter you sent via Sasuke. I shall cherish it always.” Mitsuhide tapped my forehead with his finger. “You wrote to him?”

“He did see me go over the wall. I thought he at least deserved to know that I survived… and deserved thanks for helping me out.” I elbowed him. “May I finish or are you going to continue to be a yandere about it.”

“Carry on.” He tickled the back of my neck. “He may have a paper from you, but I have the real thing.”

“’I am relieved to know that you survived your journeys through time, and if you are indeed settled in Azuchi, I wish for all your happiness. However, be assured there will always be a place for you wherever I am.’”

Hm, maybe I shouldn’t have let Mitsuhide read over my shoulder after all.

Luckily for the sake of peace in our relationship, Yoshimoto’s letter quickly switched gears to catch us up on politics. “You maybe be aware that Yoshiaki has entered a Buddhist temple. He will not be leaving it, as he recently suffered a brain storm that has left him rather incapacitated.”

Brain storm? Stroke? Yoshiaki was a little young for that, although I supposed it was possible.

“I thought that might occur.” MItsuhide sounded a bit… disappointed. “Although I do wish that could be confirmed.” Ok, not disappointed. Suspicious.

“As for your young friends, Sho and Hiko, they have settled in nicely at Kasugayama. Hiko has been all but adopted by Kanetsugu, who prizes education and has a school in the city. Our lovely flower Sho has a string of lovelorn vassals following her every step, although she does seem to prefer arguing with Yukimura. Shingen and I are amused by how easily they annoy each other. Meanwhile, I have returned to my passionate patronage of the arts. Come the Spring, I do believe I shall make the journey to Azuchi in order to explore the wares of your local artisans. I hope to encounter you then. Yoshimoto.”

“Is he warning us of an attack on Azuchi in the Spring? Or does he really plan to go shopping?” With Yoshimoto, it could go either way.

“I suspect the latter. Kenshin may be battle crazy, but he prefers to fight in a more open territory. Terrorizing civilians is not his style.” Mitsuhide made a move to confiscate the letter again, but I quickly folded it up. “It’s rather disappointing he wasn’t specific on the timing of his travel plans, in order for me to ensure you and I are elsewhere.”

I decided to ignore that bait. If we got into an argument, I never would get to the bathhouse, and I had become more uncomfortably damp as the afternoon wore on. A hot bath, and then maybe I could convince Mitsuhide to make an early night of… drat.

A long discussion of any of the things we had just learned had to wait. I’d forgotten that Mai had arranged the often-threatened “double date” for this evening. True, I liked Mai and Hideyoshi, and a meal cooked by Masamune was almost enough to make me forget my preference for a quiet night in. But given the already late hour, I rushed through my clean up, then had to press Mitsuhide into service to help me control my hair.

“Are you sure it’s going to stay?” I gently touched the series of knots behind my head, all held in place by a mass of hairsticks, including my beloved bellflower lockpicks.

He placed his hand on his heart. “I am devestated to hear you question my abilities as a hairstylist. It will last as long as it needs to last.”

With that cryptic statement, he led me into Hideyoshi’s manor… where I discovered that the hairstyle was meant to last until I bowed, at which point, the structural integrity disintegrated, gravity took over, and everything landed on the floor in a clatter of hairsticks. I cleared my bangs from my vision in time to see Hideyoshi wince.

Yep, I had already heard his opinions of how an employee of the Oda ought to look in public. It was similar to his opinions on running in the hallway, allowing Nobunaga to purchase a large quantity of konpieto in Saiki (as if I could have stopped him), and general tardiness.

To his credit, aside from flinching, Hideyoshi easily moved things along, becoming a perfect dinner host. Though Mai was the only one of us who had ever been on a double date, the evening proceeded smoothly enough, especially when Mitsuhide brought up Yoshiaki’s reported illness and the conversation turned to politics.

It was nice to be able to sit back in a relaxed setting and watch Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide interact. Though on the surface, Mitsuhide subjected Hideyoshi to as much teasing as he did me, I could see there was deep respect and admiration between the two of them. I recalled Mai mentioning that Mitsuhide only teased when he was serious, and I mentally amended that to the fact that he only teased where he loved.

Yep, his love language was snark.

As I continued to watch the two of them, Mitsuhide’s expression radiating relaxation and contentment, even as he good naturedly disagreed with something Hideyoshi had said, I realized that contentment was mirrored inside myself. I … was … happy. It was unexpected. Though I had spent most of my life running from unhappiness and my mother’s example, I had never run toward happiness. Instead, I’d had a hard-fought equilibrium, a balanced life that I enjoyed, and I’d been fine with my lot.

But this all was new. And… lovely.

Catching my gaze… and the direction of my thoughts, Mitsuhide smiled at me. “Happy?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine anything that would make this moment better.” If I could have frozen everything in time, I might have chosen this exact point.

Although Mai did have a suggestion that was intriguing. “Mitsunari and a basket of kittens.”

“Ok, that might just-“

“No.” Her voice was full of wonder and amusement. “Mitsunari has a basket of kittens.” She sighed and gestured to a point behind me.

I turned and… Mitsunari stood at the door, holding a basket of kittens. A little grey one had already escaped containment and was climbing his arm.

@($^()*!(&*^

“My response was perfectly normal given the situation. He had a basket of kittens.” I took one of the hoodies I had smuggled back to the Sengoku and used it to create a makeshift bed for the new feline members of our household – Hawkeye and Natasha.

It turned out that Toshiie’s ‘secret’ meeting with Mitsuhide had been to determine which kitten I might like. They’d decided to let me choose for myself, hence Mitsunari’s sudden appearance (he’d gotten the message confused) with his cat’s recently weaned offspring. “Thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful.”

I stood up and gave him a kiss.

“To be clear, the gift was the cats themselves, and not the man holding them.” He picked up Natasha, tickled her grey striped fur, then held her against his chest. “Until I saw you and Mai melt that way, I had not realized that women become that weak when presented with the sight of a man holding a miniature cat.” He set the other kitten on his shoulder then smirked at me.

It didn’t have quite the effect that Mitsunari had, but he looked handsome none the less, especially when he tapped his finger over his sensual lips.

“A basket of kittens. Not that he held onto that that long.” Mitsunari’s attempt to keep the kittens in the basket had met with certain failure, resulting in seven furry bullets ricocheting all over Hideyoshi’s quarters. By the time the five of us managed to round them all up, the double date was well and truly over.

Mitsuhide seemed to have ‘the touch’ with them, and he settled them onto the hoodie. They instantly curled into each other, and dropped into sleep. “Tomorrow, I’ll introduce them to Chimaki and ensure she understands they are friends. But for now…” He turned, scooped me up, and carried me to our own bed (he seemed to like doing that, and I was getting used to it). “I believe we should follow their example.”

In moments, we had created our own ‘cuddle puddle,’ our arms and legs entangled. “The fact that you remembered I still miss my old cat. It was… I’m…” Too many words struggled for supremacy. This was beyond happiness.

“I know.” He pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I remember every moment of that night. The best and the worst parts of it. I wanted to love you slowly and thoroughly, but I told myself that was not something I could have. Still… there was a part of me that pretended it was the first night of many. That we would return to Azuchi together, I would find a cat for you, and you would-“

“Give you everything. I have. And I will.” No more words were needed. He made good on his promise and began to make love to me, slowly, tenderly, taking time to assuage both of our needs, rocking against me as gently as a boat rode upon the waves.

Maybe it had been a longer route to get here… but we had made it.

The tenth thing I hate about Mitsuhide. The fact that everything about him makes it impossible to avoid loving him.

Coda: Sasuke

“Status update?” Aki, still looking frail and slightly feverish, settled behind the massive European style desk in his office.

Sasuke considered telling his part-time employer to take a few days off, but he settled for handing the man a bottle of antibiotics stolen from the hospital pharmacy. Though Aki had wanted to return to the Sengoku era immediately, Sasuke and Kayten convinced him to wait at least a week to ensure his infection would not recur. Instead, they had used the prototype to laterally jump to Sasuke and Kayten’s primary timeline, where at least the police (not to mention Shingen and their alternates) could not follow.

Now, after very little rest, the three were in the modern version of Aki’s manor in the Togakushi mountains, trying piece together the strands of the known timelines. While Aki was often out of communication range, as he hopped around the multiverse, he usually had let them know where he was going. The trips to 1578 and 1586 had been unplanned, leaving Kayten and Sasuke scrambling to not only manage the timelines, but also search for Aki.

“To borrow a phrase, would you prefer hearing good news or bad news?” Sasuke did at least like to prepare people first.

In this case, though, Kayten was clearly feeling less polite and her hiss of frustration suggested she didn’t appreciate his attempt to soften the blow. “One of the Katsukos was executed.”

A harsh way to put it, but Sasuke remembered the look on Kayten’s face when they arrived in timeline G a few days after her alternate had been put to death. He’d never wanted to see that look again.

Aki closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he said (in Sasuke’s opinion) the worst thing possible. “And Hikosane?”

“He’s fine. Dad. Adopted by one of Nobunaga’s vassals.” She got to her feet, glaring at them both under a fringe of violet bangs. “I know there’s a bunch of us… versions of myself scattered across the multiverse … maybe to you, it doesn’t matter if one of us dies. But it feels like little pieces of me are being chipped away.” For a moment it looked like she was about to say more, perhaps even include Sasuke in her blast of anger. But instead, she simply left the room, without even a slammed door to punctuate her outburst.

Unsure of whether to try to comfort his friend or continue to keep Aki company, Sasuke stayed frozen in indecision.

“She’s wrong.” Aki’s voice was so quiet, Sasuke might have thought he imagined it. “I lost them both once, and my response to that almost destroyed the multiverse.”

Coming next winter… As Yuki Likes It

Courier, scout, daredevil, housemaid … Bodyguard? Katsuko has had many identities in the seven years since a wormhole sent her back in time to feudal Japan, and she’s found a certain satisfaction working for Akihira. Then an accidental encounter with an alternate timeline gives her a glimpse of a blissful future with a handsome grey-eyed warlord.

To ensure that future for herself, Katsu accepts a mission guiding a young prince and princess to Kasugayama. But a series of betrayals endangers that mission, and only by accepting the escort of Sanada Yukimura do they have any chance of reaching their destination. Meanwhile, Katsu’s wish for that once-glimpsed future is tested by her growing friendship with Yukimura. Not that it matters, as Yukimura is fascinated by the beautiful Princess Shohime… a girl already betrothed to the Dragon of Echigo.

Only time can sort out this entanglement of mismatched lovers. And time… is the one thing that is quickly running out.

… Loosely inspired by Shakespeare's As You Like It

Excerpt

I handed Shohime my arrows, knowing her aim was nearly as good as mine. “You know what to do.” I nudged her toward the cover of trees. “Wait… give you your shawl.”

While she and Hikosane vanished in the undergrowth, I pulled my hair out of the braid, and wrapped her shawl around my shoulders. It would fool no one at close range, but hopefully I could lead our attackers out of the area until the Kanamori vassals could bring reinforcements.

Then I leaped on my horse, and making as much noise as I could, cantered out to the crossroads, where the mercenaries were still searching for us. Moonlight wasn’t fast, but in this mountainous territory, a surefooted horse was more valuable anyway. To ensure I had their attention, I shrieked in fear, then took off through the trees.

Behind me, I could hear the pounding of hoofbeats, and the occasional yelps as one of the ronin got too personal with a low-hanging branch. Taking a meandering path, I zig-zagged through the area, until I was sure the men behind me were thoroughly lost.

After that, it was simply a matter of finding my way back to the others. I love it when a plan comes togeth-

In the midst of my anachronistic celebration, I heard another horse behind me. “Hey! Stop!”

Yeah, that would be a big old no. I spurred Moonlight into action again, but this pursuer was a bit more competent than the others, and no matter how sharply I turned, I could not lose him.

Plan B.

I cut back around, across his path, and took Moonlight directly toward a puddle of water. As expected, as soon as her feet got wet, she reared up, and dumped me off.

Shit, this is going to hurt.

I thudded to the ground, rolled, and, as the rider approached, I pulled Shohime’s shawl over my face, pretending to be overcome with terror. Whoever wanted to kidnap her would be surprised to discover they had the wrong girl, but the longer I could string this out, the better chance I had to learn why he wanted her. As footsteps reached the spot where I had ‘fallen’ off my horse, I added a couple of theatrical sobs.

“Ah… geez. Don’t cry. Are you hurt?”

The voice was vaguely familiar. I risked peeking up at the man who was raking his hands through his hair in frustration… Sasuke’s friend? Yuki? What did Yuki want with the Princess? And how could I make his life a misery for grabbing me instead?

Another story has come to an end, and it's always hard for me to say goodbye to the characters - that snarky kitsune just worms his way into the soul, doesn't he? We will of course see these characters again in other longfics, and I'm actually in a few weeks going to do a follower celebration here, with one of the options being "suggest or vote" on a scene to go with a fic in the Katsuverse.

As you can see, Yukimura will be our next hero in longfic #4, and, despite the angsty coda of this story, I'm hoping it will be heavier on the comedy side (more in tone to Mitsunari's story than Shingen's).

Until then, I want to once again thank everyone who read this story, whether you were a Unicorn commenter, or left a comment sometimes or just quietly came in to read. I'm so grateful for everyone - I love this community, both here and on Ao3.

In the meanwhile, as I try to get Yuki's story written, I'll be bringing back a throwback Thursday fic, so starting in April, keep a lookout for A Mitsunari Night's Dream.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @lyds323 @tele86 @akitsuneswife @selenacosmic

[butterfrogmantis]

I'VE BEEN PROMISING THESE FUCKERS SINCE AUGUST AND I'VE FINALLY DONE IT HERE'S THE VILLAIN NYMPH I'VE HAD IN MY HEAD FOR LIKE 4-5 MONTHS NOW

Nymph kingdoms tend to be segregated via area and species – nymphs themselves are a complex and intricate species, and there’s no true way to classify them all since flying, water, flower, sand and ground nymphs all exist, as well as many other species. But for the purposes of these character’s we’re looking at the kingdom of the water nymphs situated in the cursed land aka home and surrounding forest of the smurfs, also including the forbidden forest and a little beyond.

Whilst Merfolk of the ocean also operate within seperate kingdoms including Atlantica, nymphs have their own territories and laws. Queen Kailani of the ocean nymphs was bethroathed to a forest nymph at a young age in order to settle a dispute between the territories inbetween the sea and land. Their union was a fairly happy one as far as royal engagements go, and after some years they produced their first heir - a beautiful lake nymph they named Laguna, destined to be the future queen. As far as peace between the forest and ocean kingdoms was going, everything was peaceful, and after some time the Queen was pregnant again.

The king died during her pregnancy. And whilst there was a period of mourning, the entire kingdom was eager and excited for the birth of his surviving heir, with rumours and bets on her potential beauty and whether it would match that of her sister's. So when the royal announcer proclaimed that the younger princess has been born with dominian as a swamp nymph … there was a lot of silence over the kingdom that day. Swamp nymphs are … grungy, and common and … totally not fitting the aesthetic of the beautiful ocean, lake and forest kingdoms that blossomed with bright colours and wonderful scents. Never the less, she was their princess and the nymphs had to accept that.

Years passed. Kailani attempted to include both of her daughters in regular princess duties but however much her family treated with her existence with a sort of grim reluctance, Helodia was no fool to the whispers and taunts behind her back from the servants and kingdom folk. "Who is the queen kidding, that beautiful ballgown has no place on a swamp nymph" and so forth. It was perhaps a flaw in Kailani to pretend these comments weren't being made and refused to acknowledge or address them ever, instead just trying to shove her youngest into the lime light over and over again despite her protests.

Laguna was marginally better. She at least would try and approach the issues with Helodia after the facts, but any sort of push back and Laguna would give up, even call her sister selfish and ungrateful. Perhaps if they'd tried harder Helodia's fate would not have been so sealed.

Helodia did have one friend she trusted. A young Smurfling she had met whilst hiding on her birthday from the castle seamstress after deliberately ripping her new gown. The young Smurfling Sorcerer sympathised with her issues, being already groomed in a way to become the next leader of his own village, and having the weight of expecatation to be 'perfect' as a leader felt very similar to Helodia, and she thought him on her side. When the pressures of leadership got too much for them, they'd both sneak out and meet up. Sorcerer would show off the powerful magic he was only just learning to control. Helodia would demonstrate her control over water, and the swamp specific powers she had which includes an ability to connect better with Bog Goblins - an otherwise fierce and terrifying cousin species of the sapient goblins.

Years pass some more, talk of Laguna's coronation is coming up and whether the queen will pass over the crown during her lifetime or not. During this time Helodia and Laguna fight again, with Laguna once again accusing her sister of selfishness for always staying out of the spotlight and hiding from her responsibilities as a royal and leaving 100% of the stress and hard work onto her. Helodia accuses her sister of never caring about the bullying and bigotry she faces and flees to find Sorcerer again.

To her surprise, Sorcerer sides with her sister - Sorcerer has been through rigorous training to control his unstable magic as well as being constantly trained to become the next Smurf leader. He knows the stresses, and knows how much Helodia used to shut everyone out as a kid even on the few times she admitted Laguna had tried to reach out (but gave up when Helodia put up walls) he feels Helodia is too harsh and is in the wrong here and doesn't understand the pressure of leadership because it's never been assumed she'll get any.

Helodia is PISSED. The ONE person she thought she trusted has, in her mind, sided with the enemy. She thought she and Sorcerer were alike all these years but now she thinks he's more like her sister, Sorcerer has the pressure of needing to be perfect sure, but he's loved and appreciated by his village all the same.

Helodia won't ever be loved by her people. And if she can't be loved by them, she might as well be feared.

That's the turning point.

In truth, Helodia's main conflict is with her own people. With her mother and sister, and especially every stupid citizen that ever judged her for things outside of her control like her god damn BIRTH. If Laguna is so stressed about becoming queen then why not just … take that responsibility off her, huh? Why not take the crown by force and force the people to love or fear her, as long as she has the power over them Helodia no longer cares.

Smurf Village was never Helodia's issue before. But she does hold a grudge against her once friend Sorcerer.

And when he and the others try and stand against her on the side of Laguna.

Well. Then they're just in the way.

Kailani, Laguna and Helodia are mine

Baby/Sorcerer originally belongs to The Smurfs, adapted by me

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

i started writing this over a year ago and never got around to finishing it; it’s meant to be a three-part thing. so maybe if i post the first part, i’ll be inspired to finish the rest. this wasn’t written to be shared with the public, mostly just for myself (which is why some of it can be cringey), but here we are anyway. hehe. happy birthday lee jihoon! 태어나줘서 고마워!

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

If it were months ago, you would’ve winced at the harshness in his tone, but you’ve hardened yourself with resolve, almost saddened that this was the most communication you two have had since, well, you couldn’t recall. “I’ve been contemplating this for a while now.”

“But you didn’t talk to anyone else about it!”

No, you thought bitterly. You just didn’t tell him.

“I’ve already talked to my parents,” you spoke coolly.

He scoffed. “As if they’ve ever actually cared about you and your life.”

You felt anger flare up with a cold dousing of shame. “And what—” You spat. “You do?”

“Wha—of course I do! I’ve always looked out for you! I’m your best friend!”

Bile rose in your throat. “Best friends wouldn’t flake on every single hang out to go off and spend time with their favorite noona—!”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

So unlike the bright crescents you were used to him having around you. He used to shine in your eyes, never too bright, but in a way that demanded your attention as you basked in his almost ethereal glow.

You were reminded that the moon has phases. And maybe that meant it was time to start anew.

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

You prepared so many answers to the questions you thought he would bombard you with.

What? You were going to a prestigious international academy several thousand miles away.

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

Why? Because you loved him so much it terrified you.

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

The tears couldn’t even form in your eyes. You knew it would be selfish and manipulative if you did. He always felt responsible when you cried.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

You forced yourself to smile softly at him, wanting to ignore the visceral pain in his tensed jawline, widened eyes, and clenched fist. You knew the irreversible wound you were inflicting. Your resolution almost shattered at the prospect.

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

You supposed you deserved the door slam that followed his footsteps, not even allowed to watch his retreating form.

You closed in on yourself, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks quietly.

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

Only a week later, in the comfort of your childhood bedroom nestled in the midst of Busan, did you receive the news from your neighbor a few streets down.

Jihoon decided to go through with moving to Seoul to become a trainee. I hope you can come by to congratulate him! His father and I would love to have you at the party!

Questions ran through your mind.

How long has he been thinking about this? Did he ever mention wanting to become an idol? When did he even apply to become a trainee? When is he leaving? Is he cut out for trainee life? Is he going to make his own music or be forced by his company to make inauthentic music? Is he going to remember to eat his meals? Will he be okay?

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

You weren’t going to get the answers you wanted.

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

──────────────────

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

“Careful, if they hear you say that, they might pull your funding out from under you.”

Hyejin glared at you, her lashes unceremoniously sticking a little too high up her eyelid. You wondered whether she knew there was no point in wearing makeup everyday when her only company was her pipettes and centrifuge. “God, sometimes I wish I was in your major.”

“You would wanna read about things like depression and emotional incompetence?”

“Why not? I see it all the time in my major. God. I was at a drinking party the other day—” You winced in advance. “And I just want you to be aware that if you were to include STEM majors in your sample, your EQ mean would drop so fast.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Alright. Fair. To be honest, though, my research focus is mainly on the public and government’s responses to providing resources for group homes and how to make transitioning a little easier. I’m hoping to garner more attention and funding in order to do more activism. So, technically, I don’t actually measure EQ. Although, I can make guesses based on the public forums that are out there.”

“All I heard is that you’re an absolute saint.”

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I distinctly remember you saying it was to, quote, ‘ruin me.’”

“Seven years later and I still haven’t.”

“I dunno about that. I started watching that drama you recommended and my sleep schedule—”

“Isn’t it so good?”

You laughed as she started parroting off lines from the drama and you agreed after much coercion that, yes, the second-lead was indeed a better fit.

Your phone pinged beside you and you stole a quick glance. Your breath hitched as Weverse popped up on your screen. Your pulse slowed down to a normal rate when you realized the notification was from “RM 🌟”.

Maybe you should just delete the app.

You turned your attention back to the girl who was your first college roommate back at Yale, where quick introductions were made, and not a second later, began laughing at the prospect that your RAs probably put you both together for being foreign students from South Korea. 

She was much more refined back then, having already spent an entire year on her own as a Yale undergraduate, but your burning flame managed to craft something entirely new; just as she, like a river running its course, smoothed out your rough edges over time.

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

──────────────────

“You said you don’t break promises, Y/N.”

You found yourself grimacing. “Jihoon, that’s not fair—”

“Fair? Y/N, I kicked your ass at darts and now you said you wouldn’t keep your promise.”

“I don’t want my first ever tattoo to be whatever that is!”

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

He stared down at the napkin he drew his artistic rendition on and then looked back at you incredulously. “It’s a firefly. Are you blind?”

You blinked. You could see the wings? Maybe? And those are lines that represent glowing? Not some weird excretion? You held your tongue and asked a more appropriate question. “Why a firefly?”

“I dunno. Seemed fitting. We always go see them together in the summer. They remind me of you. You remind me of them. That’s all, I guess.”

“Aw,” A toothy grin spread across your face. "You think I light up the night?”

“Sure, if you want.”

You could tell that Jihoon was getting embarrassed and wanted to immediately stop talking, but you being you, refused to let it happen. You piped up with your typical know-it-all attitude, “I read somewhere that fireflies represent inspiration and guidance. And hope, I think.”

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

──────────────────

And here you were, in Seoul, a knowing pang in your chest that constantly reminded you of just how close he was. How your relationship always was. Close in proximity, but always left you wanting something more. Something else.

You blinked up at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

“You just look like you’re on the brink of a panic attack every time you see a Twitter or Weverse update.”

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

“Actually, unnie. I’ll join you tonight. Screw book club.”

A knowing smirk spread across her lips. “Alright, bumblebee. My EQ is high enough to realize you’re running away from your issues, but it’s low enough that I won’t do anything about it.”

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

You groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, staring down at Hyejin’s bare legs wrapping themselves around your torso.

God. How much did you even drink?

You untangled yourself from her limbs, quickly checking her skin to make sure she didn’t have a repeat of three years ago when she somehow convinced you to let her get a tattoo of the two paper clips emoji on her inner bicep.

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

“That’s... so beautiful, unnie. Thank you.”

You shook your head fondly at the memory, staring at your own addition of two paper clips on the opposite bicep, sans the alcohol in your system. So, who’s to say which one of you is worse than the other?

You tried to unlock your phone but the brightness did too much damage to your eyes to where Face ID couldn’t recognize your look of disapproval. You quickly swiped the brightness all the way down to read the time.

5:43am

That meant you only slept an hour and a half after getting home.

You peeled off the skin-tight clothing your roommate had so lovingly forced you into and grabbed a loose fitting tee and shorts. You knew you had the weekend to recuperate since you’ve completed your work ahead of your deadline.

You poured yourself a glass of water and emptied it in the span of 10 seconds. You could feel your brain recovering from its shriveled state, as if the water seeped into your skull and was being soaked up. You wondered if Wheein, your ridiculously cute neuroscience major friend down the street, would be able to explain why that is.

You hummed to yourself as you grabbed another glass of water and a reusable metal straw before making your way back to your room, where Hyejin was convinced that your bed had healing properties since she never woke up with a hangover when she slept in your space.

“It’s like you just have this homey superpower.”

“Okay, unnie. Please stop eating your hair when I’m trying to feed you toast.”

You set the glass at your bedside table and decided to go through your phone’s notifications before rousing Hyejin awake.

You scrolled through the notifications, mostly people making sure that you both got home okay, Wooyoung sending you a money charge with the caption: I may have ordered you the taxi, but you’re paying for it. Love you noona xoxo

You scrolled until you saw a lone notification from Instagram (why? you haven’t posted in two weeks?) that nearly made you drop your phone in the same way your heart did.

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

You clicked on the notification that took you straight to the post wzljh__ liked.

It was a random post from three years ago when you studied abroad in Japan during your junior year, where you were praying in front of a temple for, according to your caption, “to be able to change the world… and also get into a PhD program.”

You clicked on the usernames that indicated who liked your post. You couldn’t find the familiar handle anywhere. Secondhand embarrassment rushed through your veins and passed as quickly as it came.

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

──────────────────

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

“Jihoonie, I need to get more likes on my post. Therefore, I am making you this profile. You don’t even have to go on that often. Okay? You can deactivate it once I go viral enough to have the world at my disposal.”

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

──────────────────

Jihoon immediately reprimanded you, telling you that you didn’t need to appease anyone as a sixteen-year-old (God, he really was too mature for his own good) but your whining had him yielding once you promised that you’d catch up on One Piece over the weekend and that you would make a bento for him.

He only ever posted once (at your request), but he did like every single one of your posts back then, although, no one would know since those were all archived (for the sake of preserving your current social life by preventing the increase in Hyejin’s arsenal of embarrassing photos of you).

Only months later did you have that falling out and his deactivation quickly followed. You believed he wouldn’t ever reactivate his personal account, especially with his woozi_universefactory account set up for Pledis, which, even then, was hardly posted on.

You clicked on his profile to see the anonymous profile picture still there. You saw his followers list and saw only four names.

That once familiar wave of jealousy that plagued you for over a decade never came when you saw her name. It dissipated a few years back after a night of confessions and mascara stained tears, hushed whispers and muffled sobs tucked away in the corner of a Busan bar in the middle of winter.

You checked his following list and saw several musical artists as well as your own handle.

Wait. Where was hers?

You navigated to her page to make sure you weren’t completely delirious and your brain slowly caught up with your eyes.

He wasn’t following her.

You typed in her username to find her profile. Immediately, her beautiful smile shone brighter on the page than the dimly lit screen could do justice.

You never hated her. She was a confidant and a beloved person in your life. Still is. You were all childhood friends (along with your cousin) with deep ties and connections, although the same could not be said for you and Jihoon currently.

But you hated how it all turned out: she didn’t reciprocate feelings towards Jihoon, but didn’t have the courage to properly reject him either.

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

You bit your tongue and wondered if Jihoon found out that she was proposed to by your cousin just over a month ago, the one who she spent her childhood years pining after.

Maybe that’s why he’s not following her anymore.

──────────────────

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

You felt a tug at your earlobe and your fourteen-year-old self squeaked out, “Why!”

“What’re you wishing for?”

“I can’t tell you! That’s not how wishes work…”

He let out a gruff noise and sat across from you, his bright red shorts and white shirt were definite contrasts against the dirt surrounding your two small bodies.

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked and it’s only polite if you answer.”

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes before he cast his gaze down in a boyish way that was just so charming, you too had to look away. “I want the courage to be able to confess my feelings before it’s too late.”

You stared at the river and wondered whether it was deep enough to catch all the tears that wanted to spill themselves from out of you, the image of her coming to the forefront of your mind.

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

You knew wishes would never come true if you said them out loud.

──────────────────

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing over me like a fucking creep?”

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by Hyejin’s screeching. You promptly rolled your eyes. “Get up, Princess. I got some water for you.”

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

“How about a diamond ring? Because if you popped the question, I’d say yes immediately.”

You resisted the urge to smack the smug grin on her face and pushed the water over to her. “You would want a diamond, wouldn’t you?”

“All-naturally mined. No lab made stuff. Spent enough time there myself. Don’t need a ring to remind me of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind to tell Wheein—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. She probably already knows. Being childhood friends and all.”

“Shall I remind you of your unrequited childhood love?”

“‘S not the same,” you responded automatically. She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t even seen him.”

“What? We rewatched their Melon performance literally two days ago, what the fuck you mean you haven’t seen—”

“I meant in person, unnie.”

She clicked her tongue. “And we went to the SEVENTEEN concert seven months ago. We would’ve gotten the fan sign too if you weren’t being so damn annoying about it.”

Your flustered response was enough to make Hyejin laugh at your expense. “I-I just wasn’t sure whether he would’ve even wanted to see me!”

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

“You used to say that you knew he didn’t want to see you. Now you’re not sure? What happened while I was passed out?”

You gulped.

She set her glass down quietly, a soft smile that seemed misplaced surrounded by her strained features.

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

You promptly fell to your knees, feeling like explaining the situation would be akin to confessing your sins.

You only hoped she wouldn’t damn you to hell.

──────────────────

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to slide into his DM’s like some sad bitch who’s been yearning for over a decade.”

“...but isn’t that exactly what you are?”

You were so close to throwing your mimosa across the table. Too bad the American-inspired restaurant you were at only had half-off drinks during the weekday happy hour. You weren’t going to waste your full-priced flute of champagne and orange juice.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Bumblebee, I promise I won’t message him. Just give me your phone, I want to see his profile again.”

You took your pinky, made an ‘X’ over your heart with it, pressed the tip against your lips, and held it out for her to do the same.

“God, what are you, 5?”

“Pinky promises cannot be broken. If you break them, you break my trust.”

“You know, for someone who’s studied Psychology, you sure believe in a lot of non-evidence-based practices.”

You emphatically made your point by bringing your pinky closer to her. She sighed and hooked hers around yours. “Satisfied, bumbles?”

“Always, unnie. There’s something beautiful about how the biggest of promises are made with the littlest of fingers.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

She took your phone and turned it to where you could see her every move. She clicked Jihoon’s profile and went to his first and only post, already liked by your sixteen-year-old self.

She looked as though she were scrutinizing the caption. You expected her to try and formulate an idea of him that was separate from his stage persona.

What you didn’t expect was for her to unlike the post and quickly like it again.

“UNNIE!”

“Oh, bumblebee, I think you would have broken the sound barrier with how loud that was.”

You were too busy having a meltdown to realize the whispering voices around you, giving pointed looks of disdain. Hyejin smiled at everyone and bowed slightly in apology. She tossed your phone at you.

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

Hyejin recognized the consequences of her actions immediately. “Whoa, hey. Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You don’t get to decide if it’s fine or not.”

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

You stared blankly at the phone in front of you, the once red heart, drained white, and filled again with color in the span of a microsecond.

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

You bit your lip. “Can you pull out your phone?”

She froze. “Why...?”

“Because I’m going to eat everything off of this brunch menu and you’re paying for it, so you’re going to have to make a transfer from your savings now.”

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

──────────────────

“They’re both cooked dough with butter and syrup.”

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, you mean to tell me that it’s really that important whether I decide between pancakes or waffles?”

“Waffles are obviously superior! They have little pockets that cradle the syrup, with crisp edges and fluffy insides!”

“There’s literally no one here that’s arguing against you right now.”

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

You plopped back down into the booth, shoulders slumped at a lost cause.

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I asked if it would make you happy. If I agreed that waffles are superior to pancakes.”

You stammered, a blush creeping up your neck at the question. “Uh, no. It was a dumb debate. I was just trying to be annoying. I—”

“It’s okay to let yourself be happy even over the dumb things, firefly.”

You twiddled with your thumbs and bit back the goofiest grin as you heard Jihoon call the waiter over to order your shared waffle platter, asking for, ‘enough syrup to fill each little pocket’.

You never saw Jihoon eat pancakes after that day, always opting for the obviously superior choice. 

―――――――――――――――――

The joy of eating butter and carbs and sugar from that day was not enough to sustain you through the week once you realized you had a paper deadline that was sooner than you remembered.

Your eyes ran over the words again, nearly questioning your sanity when it felt like you spent the last thirty minutes trying to reorganize your paper in a way that was cohesive. You spent so much time unlearning the APA 6th edition format to relearn the APA 7th edition, and then moving back to Korea made you throw all of that out the window. Therefore, your mind was a jumbled mess of DOI numbers and misplaced periods.

This paper was due in less than a week and you still found yourself questioning whether the literature review was comprehensive enough to cover all twenty sources you were required to include. Two pages. A list of twenty sources that took up approximately three-fourths of your second page. A singular paragraph of literature review on peer-reviewed articles studying the risk factors of suicide in Korean adolescents before needing to address implications and future research and potential programs that could address these issues.

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

You glanced around the library and noticed a scarcity of other human beings. You groaned to yourself as you realized you hadn’t moved from your seat in over eight hours and the library was due to close in ten minutes.

You wanted to stab yourself in the neck when you remembered you still had the Social Welfare 101 class’s papers to grade. You knew that they needed feedback on their writing and you also knew they saw you as a pushover, so the papers are very likely lackluster, especially since the class was filled with people who were trying to get their Humanities credit for their degree in another field.

“Become a doctor, they said. It will be worth it, they said,” your hushed-tone almost mocking.

One of the other TAs from the Educational Psychology department had offered to take some of the grading from you, knowing that you had several large projects due soon, but you quickly brushed off the offer, saying that you could handle it.

A few stray tears slid down your face as you felt overwhelmed by the entirety of the last four years. You graduated early from Yale and dove straight into a doctoral program you could have easily put off by working for a few years.

You removed your glasses and buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself five minutes of reprieve. Just five. Before you needed to pack up and get back to work.

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

──────────────────

[tw: suicide mention]

“Social work is a useless field, Y/N.”

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t see your interview in the school newsletter? Saying you want to go to Seoul National University and study social work? No daughter of mine is going to go into a field that has no chance of finding a job that makes money. You think that your Abeonim and I will be supporting you for the rest of your life? What will the neighbors say, huh?”

“Eomma—”

“No, you do not get to call me that, you ungrateful child. I did not work as hard as I did to put you through the additional tutoring and classes I have for you to just betray me like this.”

Bile rose up in your throat and you choked back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, and there she goes, being dramatic again. You don’t think I feel like crying too? You want to become a social worker? You want to help people? How can you do that when you’re so selfish?”

Your nails dug themselves into the meat of your palms, but not hard enough to cause pain, not when your nervous habit of biting them whittled them down to stubs.

“Get out. Come back when your head is clear.”

You moved, but not too hastily so as to signal her to your anxiety, for you were just a prey and she was the apex predator. You kept your gaze downcast and zipped up your designer brand backpack before looping your arms through the pristinely kept straps. Your family had a reputation throughout the town to keep. And you were the heir to it all.

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

You shut the door behind you softly and wrapped your arms around you, letting your feet carry you to the one place you knew you could find solace.

Once you arrived, picking a fallen leaf off of your skirt, you knocked weakly at the window pane.

Jihoon glanced up from his desk and made his way to open it for you. “Hey, firefly.”

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

“Do you ever, just, think about stopping?”

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

He remained silent and he uncrossed his arms so you knew, at least physically, he was open to listening to you. This wasn’t the first time you brought up this subject to him.

“I could just end it all, Jihoon. I could just have it all be over. My parents wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They wouldn’t have to be so disgusted by the fact that they birthed such an ungrateful and selfish child.”

Jihoon breathed deeply through his nose. You knew how much it stirred up his insides whenever you talked about this, but he would reiterate that your safety was always more important than his comfort.

“I should just do it, right? That’ll prove something to them. That’ll show them that they’re not the perfect people everyone makes them out to be. They drove their daughter to this. Oh, but. They might just use it as an excuse to garner more attention. Woe is the perfect family in Busan, they struggle with loss, just like us. But… I could just end it all now. It could all be over, Jihoon. I have that power.”

“You do, firefly. You could end it all.”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly got whiplash. You were expecting soft!Jihoon, not whatever this was. You spluttered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Are you saying I should just do it then?”

“No,” Jihoon said evenly. “I’m just saying that you do have that power. But you also have the power not to. You have the power to continue on.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jihoon!”

Jihoon clicked his tongue at your raised tone. “Whoa, hey. You’re the one who always says you have to jump through hoops in order to ‘earn’ love. I’m not the one who taught you that bullshit; go talk to your parents about that.”

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

“Y/N, I have spent more time with you than those sorry excuses of parental figures ever have!”

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know! They’re the ones who see me, who know me best. They raised me. They know how disappointing I am. They know how useless I am. They know! They’re the ones who know just how unworthy I am!”

“God! Why do you care so much?! Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?!”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your bottom lip trembled as your voice came out, horribly fragile, a complete contrast to your sharp tone from just moments ago. “I… Because it’s me, Jihoon. I’m either too much for people or I’m never enough. So, I have to do everything perfectly to prove that I’m worthy. I have to be better than anyone else. Because I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

You were openly sobbing.

“But… you’re not better than anyone else, firefly.”

You tried to muffle your tears enough to hear Jihoon’s voice over your crying. Your eyes met his and you expected to see pity, but instead, his facial expression remained as neutral, a steadfast look in his eyes amidst all of your wavering.

“Firefly, you suck at Super Smash Bros. You’ve never won a game against me. Not even one. In like, ten whole years. Also, you’re really bad at timing when ramyeon noodles are done. You always overcook them. You cry when you see a fat seagull waddling down the shoreline. You can’t eat spicy food to save your life. You use too many emojis when you type. You can’t even jog 100m without wanting to pass out. You get so angry that you blow up at others and shame them for making you angry, but you hate it when people are mad at you. You refuse to share your food when it’s still warm, but force me to finish it when you’re full. You don’t trust others enough to do their part of the work so you never let anyone else help you. You have a nervous habit of saying stupid random facts when a pretty girl talks to you. You once poured milk before the cereal. You’re full of flaws.”

Your lips were pressed in a thin line, but the tears had ceased approximately halfway through his listing of your traits.

“You are not the best. By any means. Mediocre, even.”

“I’m kind of hurt.”

Jihoon snorted. “You don’t know everything, firefly. You’re not always going to be the smartest in the room. You’re not the best that ever existed. You never will be. But you’re never too much. And you’re always enough. And although your parents and nearly every adult in this town could think otherwise, you will meet people, people like noona, like hyung, like me, who will still care about you even when you’re being a shitty little brat like you are now. People who will still care about you even when you’re not number one.” 

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

──────────────────

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

Hyejin gave you a sideways glance. “Do we need to pull out the therapy chair and the rosé for this?”

You swatted the offer away. “I’m serious.”

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

“I just think about my parents and the pressure that was probably put on them from their parents and the parents before. But with each generation, no one decided to try and break the cycle. They just kept taking their hurt and putting it onto the next. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not just my family. It’s prevalent… everywhere. Did you know that South Korea has one of the highest rates of suicide in all of the OECD countries, second only to Lithuania? Common risk factors among adolescents tend to be academic pressure and family issues. So. I know it’s not just me. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Is this related to the paper you were working on earlier?”

You pondered for a moment. “I think researching adolescents and suicidality might’ve triggered some old memories, yeah.”

“Are you…?”

“Okay,” you finished her question. “The thoughts only come when I’m feeling overwhelmed with stuff. And it being our last semester, it’s just… a lot is being demanded of us. Classes, projects, thesis defense. I’m feeling, I dunno, a little helpless.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering some wise words from my undergraduate roommate at Yale~” Hyejin said, in a sing-song voice. “She said that the best way to stop feeling helpless is…?”

You glared.

“The best way to stop feeling helpless iiiiiis…?”

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

You decidedly messaged your fellow TA to ask them to help alleviate some of your workload to which they happily agreed.

Which you only gained the courage to ask for after a straight-winning streak in several online matches of Super Smash Ultimate.

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

──────────────────

Just a few days later, on a rare weekend where you managed to pull away from schoolwork, you found yourself in the attic of the group home you worked on-and-off at for the past four years, sorting through boxes of tattered toys, gathering the ones necessary to put through the washer. You laid down on the floor, the rickety boards beneath you groaning at your weight. You passively wondered whether a cartoon moment would happen and the group home inhabitants would find a you-shaped hole in their ceiling.

You reached into your own backpack and pulled out your own toy of sorts. You threw it up in the air only to let gravity do the work to bring it back into your hold. You had to be careful to not give yourself a black eye like you did a few years back.

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

You glanced at the tattered ball in your hand, the stitching almost undone, the yarn beginning to peek through. The color was no longer a pristine white, but that only proved its history of handling. “Choi Sannie, what about me says ‘athlete’?”

“Hey,” your younger coworker put his arms up in defense, fully climbing into the attic space now. “I know all of the things we have here at the home, and that is definitely not one of them. So that means that’s yours. Or you stole it—” He gasped loudly in delight. “You stole—!”

“No, dumbass.”

He deflated. He knelt down on the floor next to you, inspecting the baseball without taking it in his hands, careful to not overstep your boundaries. You taught him all about consent; Choi San was a wild child, but he knew respect. “May I see?”

You tossed it casually over to him.

“Is this handwriting? I can barely read it.”

“Even if it was brand new, I promise that handwriting would be illegible to the average person anyways.”

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

“For the days that feel like I’ve lost.”

──────────────────

Lee Jihoon was a boy who demanded attention. And he always had it. But not because he would go parade and peacock around for the sake of trying to earn it. He naturally caught it, with collected looks and smooth words. Everyone in your town knew him: his ability to work hard and even more, his ability to achieve. He never needed to do anything to garner more attention because all of it was already on him. Even at the perfect attention-craving age of thirteen.

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

You had been to every single one of Jihoon’s baseball games, cheering silently when he made a great call, throwing mental expletives when things were going awry. You knew his mannerisms, his tells. Hell, you even knew the code for when the coach beckoned his players to steal a base.

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

You wanted to gag at the sight of him puffing out his chest while he wore his catcher gear. You often believed him to be beyond this world but the reality quickly slapped you back as you wondered why exactly he was being so obnoxious.

Your unnie turned to you, “It’s almost over, yes?”

You wanted to laugh at the fact it seemed like she aged an additional year for every inning. “Yes, unnie.”

“I don’t understand how there’s no timer.”

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

She nodded, but you knew she didn’t actually take it in, since you repeated that fact three times over the course of the past two hours.

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

“I really don’t understand baseball, lovebug.”

You pat her shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. Although, you might want to ask oppa more about it. He knows more than I do. He messaged me and said he’ll be here in about five minutes so he can take us all out for dinner after.”

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

“Oh my God. Unnie! Do you like my cous—?”

Before she could say anything to defend herself, you felt the bleachers around you shift in tandem and you nearly toppled over until she caught you.

Your eyes found Jihoon, who was holding the ball that sealed their fate: they won. He won.

You saw him and his teammates gather together, his mask coming off to reveal his black hair sticking to his forehead and his ever-so-brilliant smile.

Oh no. You were so smitten.

After several moments of trying to push through the crowd, you finally reach a place where you spot Jihoon animatedly speaking to your unnie, who managed to get ahead of you by several paces.

You immediately froze.

Even from this far away, you could see his eyes clearly. Of course, you could. You were so practiced in searching for them, in times of joy, in mourning, in dancing, in sorrow. In those dark irises, swirled something so raw, your breathing became ragged. You saw the way he looked at her. You knew the look in his eyes.

Because you’d caught glimpses of it in yours in passing mirrors whenever you were with him.

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

You rushed backwards, much easier to run away than it was to charge forth. You ran and ran and ran until you reached the back of the bleachers where you crumpled down onto your knees, effectively getting grass stains on your poor clothes.

“Mommy! Mommy! There’s someone crying!”

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

You cursed the fact that children were basically sober drunks and said whatever was on their mind. The fateful “u” word that repeated itself obsessively in your mind.

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

He was pulled into her gravity with no room for resistance. His crescent smiles faced her, never to show his dark side, for she was the earth he orbited: captivating and delicate.

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

You were a given; never a prize to be sought. You were unrefined and blundering in your demeanor. You were on the crux of puberty, an awkward and horrendous time that consisted of your skin deteriorating, hormones running rampant, and just. So. Many. Emotions.

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

You glanced up, not even bothering to wipe away the dribbling mess that was on your face. Your cousin stared in horror at your tears.

“God, you look horrible.”

A broken sob ripped through your chest and your cousin quickly realized he made a mistake. He scooped you up into his arms and held you as you cried, cried, cried.

If jealousy was the ugliest trait, you must have been downright hideous.

Later, you had your face tucked into your cousin’s chest as he apologized to Jihoon and your unnie, who both reached for you, but your cousin, in his typical knight-in-shining armor fashion, brushed them aside and pulled you closer. He convinced them that you received some off-putting remarks from your parents and didn’t want to talk about it (a regular occurrence), so he would take you back to his place to cheer you up with some Disney movies and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Your unnie offered condolences and a swift pat on your head before she called her dad to come pick her up, all of you waiting until she drove off.

Jihoon spent the time waiting listing off a myriad of your needs (“You have to make sure you have the double Kleenex, okay? The other ones leave weird fuzz on her cheeks. And don’t let her wash the dishes when she’s sad because she doesn’t realize how hot the water actually is and ends up rubbing her skin raw. And make sure you use simple syrup for the lemonade and not just sugar, she hates the crystals.”) while he packed his gear away, preparing to walk back on his own, his home not too far away from the baseball field.

You felt your cousin squirm at the prospect of Jihoon having to carry all of his gear after playing a two-hour game and having no food in his stomach. “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, glanced at you, probably noticing the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly.

“Here, firefly.”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up to realize what it was doing. You saw a small object in the air, falling within your arms reach.

So, you caught it.

Your eyes trailed up to meet his, momentarily forgetting he was the sole cause of your meltdown.

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

You cringed at the sound of your voice, gruff and raspy.

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

Jihoon sighed and you wondered if he just considered you a petulant child.

“Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands.

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

Before you could say anything, Jihoon immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

You looked up and caught your cousin staring at Jihoon’s retreating form with a bemused look. 

“Alright, ladybug, let’s get you home. Your parents are probably preparing dinner right now.”

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

Your cousin sighed dramatically. “I guess I did,” he ruffled your hair to which you let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “Which movie?”

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

You thought of Jihoon and his reputation throughout your town: attention-grabbing, diligent, admirable, heroic.

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

──────────────────

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

You resisted the urge to mess with the singular faded green streak running through San’s hair, a test subject from when Hyejin wanted you to dye her hair, but you didn’t want to try it out on yourself nor buy a synthetic wig. A rebellious eighteen-year-old was the best option at the time. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you have this?” He inquired again.

“Because I can do what I want, San. It’s my win.”

He pulled a face of indignation at your rare (at least to him) display of childishness. Your phone pinged on top of your thigh, alerting you to its presence.

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

You bit back a grin, knowing San would question you endlessly if he caught it. So you tucked it away, for a later time, where you could be alone and smile as widely as you wanted to. He was getting more and more bold. Hyejin’s action, you knew, was what spurred him on. You wanted to laugh in disbelief.

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

──────────────────

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

Wooyoung scoffed at your words. He pulled out his phone and his nimble thumbs quickly found what he was looking for, signified by a soft ‘ah-hah!’. “You said you would help me try and secure BTS tickets. You’re the only other person that I know that has the ARMY Membership.”

You glanced at his screen and saw your drunk state and you resisted the urge to keel over at the sight. You heard your slurred words promising the very thing Wooyoung was asking of you now. “I wasn’t sober enough to realize what I was saying. Also, what kind of person films their drunk friend and coerces them into promising to get BTS tickets?”

“I never said I was a good person, noona.”

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

“They don’t have the ARMY Membership,” Wooyoung repeated, emphasizing the last two words. “I’m out here trying to secure the front section. It’s close enough to the stage where I can see Jimin-hyung’s sweat without the screen.”

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

“You cannot deny that he is a beautiful man,” Wooyoung said pointedly. “Although, I assume your type is like 15cm shorter and a muscle bunny.”

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

You spluttered, instinctively responding with what you said for most of your middle and high school days to those around you. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Wooyoung gave you a ‘duh’ look. “No shit. You’ve never even met him because you refuse to get the fan signing tickets because you’re a weak ass coward.”

Well. He was definitely right about one of those things. You often forget that you’ve kept your history with him private from most except Hyejin.

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

(Luckily, Wheein is a lot more considerate than her boisterous and loose-lipped counterpart.)

“Wooyoungie, you’re really not making me want to help you here, you know.”

“Noona, please.”

He looked at you with his wide brown eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. The thick black frames on the bridge of his nose gave off the impression of innocence, something you would never again associate with the young man in front of you.

His eyes lit up once he visibly saw your determination crumble.

You bit your lip. “You’re paying for this pizza. And we get pineapples on it.”

“I love you~ You are a goddess I am unworthy of even perceiving~ I worship the the ground you walk on, O sweet and kind deity~”

Your mouth twitched. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Wooyoung looked at you, a serious look in his eye, took your hand and squeezed it. He gave you a smile that almost melted away your disdain. “Thank you, noona.”

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

──────────────────

“I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you. Thank you, thank you. That’s all I can say. Even all the waiting, all the longing. And all of our memories. Thank you, thank you.”

You half-hoped they would perform this song, half-hoped they wouldn’t. It rendered your heart weak, almost wringing it through with the lyrics and melody, the implication. There was a deep yearning within you that wished these lyrics could have been for you, once upon a time.

You hid yourself with a black face mask and wore a baseball cap. Hyejin told you that you were making yourself look even more conspicuous by wearing such garb, but you couldn’t risk being noticed. You wanted to see him, but in a way that didn’t require vulnerability. Plus, your tears were easier to hide.

Hyejin held your hand, her fingers intertwined with yours, the two of you uncharacteristically calm and still unlike the other CARATs around you, all of whom were cheering and swinging their lightsticks in tandem.

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

You thought back to what was seemingly a mundane day, going on one of your grocery shopping trips at a Trader Joe’s while still living in New Haven, Connecticut.

The days leading up to your shopping trip, you were a mess of a human being, weighed down by the amount of work you still had left to complete, hardly able to be present in your own life, instead simply watching it go by. Hyejin took over your chores for the week, bought you sweets, stayed up with you even if she finished her own work, made sure to send kind text messages randomly throughout the day, and was all around the best supporter you could have asked for.

You kept apologizing to her for not being able to reciprocate, the only words that your mouth had the energy to form were, “I’m sorry.” And she would, each time, just pat your head with a soft chuckle and say, “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

But you weren’t sure of what you could say instead, so you said nothing at all.

Your grocery trip was made to be more of an adventurous outing that matched the energy that you were able to procure, as cooping yourself indoors only intensified your feelings of stress. However, you were on the mend from the disastrous week, as you finished up your work the day prior to your little trip to the grocery store.

(You couldn’t help but think your ability to even leave your apartment was because of Hyejin.)

After gathering all of the ingredients to cook carbonara (with extra pancetta!) and loading them up in your car, Hyejin offered to return the shopping cart to its designated location.

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

You knew what to say instead of: ‘I’m sorry.’

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

Hyejin gave you a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Of course.”

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

Did you even have a right to express yourself? That’s all you seemed to do during the week and it was almost embarrassing trying to say something now. Like, this wasn’t the right time and place. The butter was melting in the car.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young.

She gave a pointed look and said, “Uh. Alright.”

But something tugged at you. A gentle reminder from a gentle person with a seemingly rough personality.

These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you.

If he could do it, so could you.

Before she could get into the passenger seat, you called out again, “Actually!”

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

You took a deep breath. “Thank you for returning the cart. But, ah, more than that. Thank you for coming to the store with me. Thank you for spending time with me. Thank you for consoling me. Thank you for living with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for loving me.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears, so you didn’t. Your beloved friend did not fare much better.

She was in a state of what seemed like hysteria, laughing with tears streaming down her face. “What the heck, dude? What’s the matter with you? God, I love you so much.”

She took you into her arms and you both cried in the middle of a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Your heart was filled with gratitude as the thirteen boys on stage interlocked their fingers in a pinky promise to love their fans. You mirrored the action as you took Hyejin’s pinky and interlocked yours with hers. She glanced at you and you gave a smile from behind your mask, trusting she knows what you mean. Trusting that she hears the promise you are making to her, to yourself.

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

But if she could not hear the wordless promise echoing in your chest, you knew you would repeat it aloud to her for as long as she needed. To whoever needed it.

Because although those words may be typical, they were still worth saying.

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

An old friend whose smile now shone as bright as the stage lights that lingered on his form.

──────────────────

Three weeks later, you were up to your neck in deadlines. You were demanded at every possible place you frequented. In the research labs, in the recruitment office, in your collective TAs room, in the group home you volunteered for.

Hypothetically, there should have been no room in your mind for Lee Jihoon.

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

Not just explicitly, like the way his idol group overtook the internet with selfies here and tweets there and ridiculous fan edit videos everywhere.

But rather, in the crevices of Seoul, in the freshly cooked rice found at your favorite family restaurant, ready to serve piping hot meals with heaping portions of a mother’s love, in the off-key melodies sung unapologetically by a circle of children in the middle of the neighborhood park, not caring who’s there to witness, performing for any and all, in the rhythm of the city thrumming beneath your soles and at your fingertips, ready to sweep you off your feet if you gave it the chance.

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

A comment? A comment? You were plenty satisfied with the likes on your post, but a comment meant direct interaction, not mindless scrolling and double tapping.

The ringing in your ears was prevalent and you knew for the sake of your body and soul, you needed to shut it all away.

You pushed aside the thoughts, compartmentalized like they taught you during your clinical therapy program, and shoved your phone far into the depths of your unorganized bag.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

──────────────────

“Hey, so, it’s noona’s birthday on Sunday—” 

“I know, Jihoon, you haven’t shut up about it for the past two weeks.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. But I’ve spent so long trying to find a gift for her and I still can’t find anything. Can’t you, just like, come with me to the market for the day? I’ve never spent so much time and effort trying to find a damn gift for a birthday before. I’ll buy us dinner and we can stop by that dessert stand with the black sesame soft serve.”

“I told you. I have college prep exams I have to worry about. You want to woo her? You can. Easily. Lee Jihoon, anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “...thanks, firefly.”

You gave a stiff nod before walking away, the singular cardstock invitation (since you only made one for him because he teased you endlessly for your homemade invitations in the fifth-grade and you committed yourself to spite him every year from then on) you scrawled a date on in two week’s time weighing heavily in your bag. You bit your bottom lip to try and prevent the tears from slipping.

Guess your birthday wasn’t worth putting time and effort in.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found a small package in your first-year high school locker on that fateful day, in two week’s time.

Inside a poorly wrapped box, you found a card and a keychain of three tiny medals: simply drawn hands interlocking at their pinkies, the infinity symbol, and a crescent moon.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened the card envelope slowly, afraid your shaking hands would accidentally tear apart the paper. The card was homemade and purposefully horrendous (he claims; although, knowing his crafting skills, you weren’t so sure) with his haphazard, yet endearing scrawl.

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

Moved them away from your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and smudge them.

“I saw these charms two months ago and immediately thought of you.

You said anyone would be lucky to be loved by me.

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

P.S. I have a sun on mine, if you end up wanting to switch.”

And so you skipped the first ten minutes of your last class to fold in on yourself in one of the second-floor girls’ bathroom stalls. You muffled your cries against your sleeve because it’s just so utterly him that you couldn’t even think straight.

When he finds you after school, eyes puffed and disheveled, you half-expected him to comfort you, because it was your birthday and, to most people, that warranted special treatment.

Instead he laughed loudly at your tattered self, pinched your reddened nose with a grip you could say bordered on assault, and said, “Come on, let’s go get some cake and ice cream. I’ll pay.”

You glared at him. “You hate cake and ice cream.”

He merely grinned at you. “Not today, I won’t. You really are lucky to have me, aren’t you?”

Even with the way he teased you relentlessly for all seven blocks to the place you frequented when your pockets were lined with allowance, the dessert shop with the fresh cream green tea cake topped with fruit you knew Jihoon was gonna take when you weren’t looking, even with his eyes filled with mischief and cheeks filled with stolen strawberries, you couldn’t help but agree.

──────────────────

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

You cocked your head to the side as you pulled your lunchbox out onto the cafeteria table. You spread the items out in an orderly fashion and Hyejin nearly sneered at the display, but you ignored her. “Hrm? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, he’s been liking more and more of your posts. He also commented today. Isn’t that bold? Considering you haven’t spoken in years? What happens if he’s just, I dunno, playing with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Is it dumb to say that it’s just a gut instinct that everything is okay?”

“Again, what is the point of your higher education? Gut instincts aren’t exactly evidence-based.”

You unwrapped your sandwich and your eye twitched at the sauce that dribbled down. Damn. You could’ve sworn you had the right ratio this time. 

You took a bite, your tongue slipping out to catch the excess sauce. You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the bread before you spoke.

“I dunno how to explain it, unnie. I know all of my observations have been just… through likely scripted scenes and concerts. And I know it’s dumb to think that he’s still the same kid from way back when, but even seeing him interacting with his members… It just seems like he’s happy. Not just the superficial kinda happy, but the everlasting contentment and joy kinda happy. So. I don’t think he’s going to ruin that by trying to dredge up stuff that could ruin it. Or plot revenge. I just... don’t sense any ill intentions. And I never have, even when all that shit happened.”

“Hm… I honestly don’t know the guy, but it does just sound like he made one choice in an unfortunate circumstance. Big decision in the midst of big emotions,” Hyejin murmured.

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

She smirked at that. “Yeah, but you ended up with me, so I’m okay with your choice. But, also maybe, I just trust your judgment a little too much. But, if you consider him as wonderful as you say he is, then. I believe you. Plus, I feel like his lyrics and videos that I’ve seen are proof that he’s not a complete piece of shit.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for thinking he’s not the scum of the earth.”

“Yes. Just a rung above that. If I ever meet him, I’ll definitely punch him. For your honor.”

“Hah. Thanks, unnie. I’m sure that your stick arms will do a lot of damage.”

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

You raised a brow as you set your sandwich down to bring your attention to your apple slices, peeled in a way to make them look like bunny rabbits. After dunking it into some peanut butter, you decapitated its head with your teeth. “Blame is a funny thing.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“I mean, think about it, unnie,” you began. “Do I blame him for leaving when I was the one who decided to leave first?”

Hyejin clicked her tongue. “But he left without even saying ‘goodbye’ or even warning you.”

“Mm, yeah. But... I mean, do I blame him for leaving before me when he could blame me for deciding to leave first? Or do I keep going and blame him for making me fall in love with him or could he turn that around and blame me for having feelings in the first place? Do I go further and blame him for defending me from bullies in first grade or does he blame me by trying to become friends by giving him a seashell? Do I blame him for being born or does he blame me for the same thing? Blame is an endless cycle and trying to pin the entire thing on one person or one event is hard. At least, in this instance, you know? There wasn’t a clear cut perpetrator and victim here.”

Hyejin picked at her nails. “You really have a different kinda brain, don’t you, bumblebee?”

You chuckled. “It’s gotten me this far.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared at your bunny apple slices, eventually fed up at the odd number of them and choosing to sacrifice one to your stomach for the sake of your peace of mind. 

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

“Yeah, you told me you used to be a fiery little thing. Plus, I heard you blow up at that student athlete who was dishing out homophobic slurs near the Student Center. When you’re angry, whew. I wouldn’t ever wanna be caught in the crossfire.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, he would often be. I don’t think you can grow up with and know a person for, like, sixteen years and not ever be angry with them. Especially when that person is a prepubescent boy who knows all the little things that grinds your gears.”

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

“Women aren’t that much better,” you reminded Hyejin. She paused for a moment before agreeing to your sentiment. You knew too many of the silly arguments her and Wheein have had over the past two decades.

“Honestly, though. I think he’s one of the only people I ever felt safe enough to even be angry around. So, he usually got the brunt of it all. Honestly, he should’ve left me faster. I was a mess to deal with at the time.”

Hyejin pulled a face at your self-pity. You merely offered a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “So, you were still angry at him when we were at Yale?”

You swallowed another apple bunny. “Absolutely. Remember New York?”

“Which time?”

You snorted. “Specifically the one where we went during the Fourth of July. Where I had hook-ups after hook-ups and had to get a pregnancy test and an STD screening. Where we went bar-hopping literally every night because I wanted to drown in my sorrows. The one that you got on that stranger’s shoulders to shoot off an illegal firecracker.”

“The trip where you got so drunk, you screamed at a man that turned out to be a statue.”

“Hey, in my defense, he looked like an asshole.”

“I’m sure many people would agree with you that Christopher Columbus is indeed an asshole.”

You both laughed.

Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, Hyejin physically needing to lean in to catch your words.

“I… was angry that he made promises he couldn’t keep. I was angry that he decided to walk out of my life without asking to even try. I was angry that he didn’t even care to ask why I was wanting to leave. That he didn’t care enough to want to know what I was doing. I was angry that he dropped me so fast. I was angry that he moved to Seoul as a last ‘screw you’ because he didn’t want to try and talk it out. I was angry that he was angry. But above all, I was angry at myself that it took me so long to let myself even feel the anger because I blamed myself for everything.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“At the time, I had a sixteen-year-old’s anger and heartbreak and a twenty-one-year-old’s body and ID. So, that anger manifested itself into drunken nights of hedonistic debauchery and cursing out loud for the first time ever, right at a statue of a colonizing murderer.”

You thought she would laugh at your phrasing, but instead, she merely took you in. You wanted to shrink back at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Does it still bother you?”

“...No, not really,” you admitted. “I just woke up one day and realized that I missed him so much more than I was angry at him. At me. Eventually the anger just kind of… faded. I mean, he was hurt when I left. And if he felt like I was leaving him, then it makes sense he would try to do the same in some kind of twisted adolescent retribution. I’m not saying that either of us deserved that kind of treatment, but I mean, we were sixteen and dumb. As a former sixteen-year-old, any kind of change felt like the world ending.”

“As a former sixteen-year-old, I would have to agree,” Hyejin nodded. “Do you ever regret it?”

You shoved another sliced apple into the peanut butter. This time, not picking it up. You stared down at it as you tried to formulate your thoughts. You replied softly after some time, “No.”

“Nothing?”

Your mind trailed back to the time you spent chasing your dream of studying abroad, establishing your place in the world without depending every little decision on him, running after dream after dream and fulfilling them through your own power and accord.

And you thought, as beautiful as the experiences were, you wished you could share the stories with him. He was always your best audience member, applauding your every word and exaggerated action. Sometimes laughing and jeering and heckling, but always, always, always attentive.

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

Because he gave you so much more in those fleeting years than the world could ever have supplied in millions.

“No, nothing.”

────────────────── “Do you still love him?”

Hyejin watched you over the years. You grew and healed, evolved from a bumbling adolescent mess, bright-eyed and terrified, into a full-fledged woman who learned that all most had to offer was a quick fix and prolonged heartbreak. Someone who decided to be kind because she knew first-hand that the world was not. A woman who wanted to be a love letter from the universe. Someone so strong, yet so fragile to the workings of the world because you always allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

She never knew anyone who loved for the sake of loving.

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but it slowly curved at the ends. “I think I always will.”

Hyejin’s heart felt constricted in her chest; she wanted to scream at you to let go and to move on. Tell you that he wasn’t worth any of the heartbreak and pain and self-doubt.

But she knew. She knew looking into your eyes, that you loved him with a love that transcended the flimsy, insecurity-driven kind portrayed in romantic comedies or Korean television dramas.

Because although she saw your eyes rimmed with unbrittled heartbreak, she also saw the gratitude that overflowed from your irises.

Part of her still wanted to berate and chastise you and tell you to just move on.

But she remembered being on the receiving end of that. How her friends reminded her that to be in an unrequited love was never worth it and that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that she needed to move on because it was just sad.

She remembered how empty that left her, wanting to fill the cracks in her heart with her beloved, because that was always what Wheein would be to her, just as Jihoon would be to you. Hyejin had the privilege to call Wheein at any time, to hear her voice lull her fears and anxieties into soft understandings and warmth, warmth, warmth.

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

You were the first one to sit with her, hold her hand, smile and remind her what she already knew, a resounding truth in the depths of her soul.

And so, she sat down with you on the edge of your bed, grabbed your hand, smiled, and reminded you of one of your favorite quotes: “What a privilege it is to love.”

A tear slipped past as you beamed. “And to be loved in return.”

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

“And it is the one thing we will never be without.”

──────────────────

“Two more months,” Wheein muttered before quickly downing her soju shot, not waiting for anyone else at the table. “Two months. And we’re done. No more needing to prepare for a thesis defense. No more needing to sit next to a centrifuge for ten hours at a time. No more needing to read bullshit and selfish opinions on public forums. No more needing to sit next to that weird dude who always smells like he has an open wound that’s infected—”

“Wheein, sweetie, that’s too graphic,” Yongsun responded, bringing her choice of a virgin cocktail up to her lips.

Wheein merely took a swig of the beer next to her.

Byul-yi shot her a glare. “That’s mine.”

“She needs it more, unnie, trust me,” you replied on her behalf. Byul-yi gave you a warning glance that wordlessly said you defended Wheein too much, especially as someone who was younger. “To be honest, I think Hyejin-unnie and I need to catch up to where Wheein-unnie is.”

“No, you need to pace yourself carefully especially with soju because you end up drinking too fast and way past your limit before you even realize.”

“Yongsun-unnie, I know we dated when I was a young and unassuming first-year doctoral student who didn’t understand how to handle her alcohol, but that was the past. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Hyejin told me you threw up just a few weeks ago.”

“Goddamnit, Hyejin-ssi,” you hissed in mock anger.

She snorted, seeing through your ruse. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she heard from me. Byul-unnie was the one who was holding your hair at the bar, so.”

“Is this how I’m repaid by setting you two up together? The constant risk of potentially being exposed by one or the other? The betrayal. When I introduced the two of you, mere weeks after Yongsun and I broke up, and you two were blatantly flirting in front of me–”

“We were not flirting,” they chimed in unison.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

Wheein huffed and whined into her arms, voice muffled against the table. “Y/N, you gotta find me someone.”

“You’ll see them if you just open your eyes. I’m sure of it. They’re right there. Just look in front of you, unnie.”

Hyejin pinched your thigh but you were used to her physical torture.

Wheein groaned loudly, sitting up, but still covering her eyes with her hands. Byul-yi nodded in apology to Hyejin who merely bit her lip.

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

“Y/N, I saw that you posted on Instagram yesterday. The same post from the group home you volunteer for. You were asking for the support of the community, right? And just today, I saw there were a ton of comments on their public page.”

A lump lodged itself into your throat and you stared at her, lips parting but not making any sound.

She cocked her head to the side.

Hyejin rubbed your thigh soothingly with her hand. “Bumblebee didn’t realize that they were going to get that many comments on that post. Plus, uh, I think it was shared by that one singer? Bamsu?”

“Bumzu,” you corrected weakly. Jihoon’s partner-in-crime, or rather, music production.

“Yeah, uh. Him. I guess someone who knows the group home page somehow managed to get it circulated to where he saw it, and… yeah.”

Several other research fellows messaged you privately saying how exciting it was to get the attention your project needed. Your group organizer was saying that tens of calls were coming in at a time, asking how to best provide funding or resources.

You resisted the urge to spiral into oblivion because you knew only one (1) person who would be able to do such a thing.

Bumzu had transitioned from performer to writer/producer and usually had a hand in charity work, at least, over the past couple of years, according to a quick run through his Instagram feed. He wasn’t under the scrutinizing eye of Dispatch, at least, not as much as a certain thirteen-member idol group. His interest in this program didn’t warrant sasaeng fans who would try to track down the people who made the post.

It was the perfect cover up.

It’s not as though Bumzu did anything over the top. He simply reposted the group home’s post on his story, only available for 24 hours, but even then, that was enough time to garner attention.

The group home leader called and cried to you saying that God had really blessed you all.

You wondered whether you should tell her that you didn’t think God was 164cm with moonlit eyes that haunted you in your sleep.

──────────────────

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post: “this is some really cool stuff. do u mind if i share this?”

[19:22] You replied to wzljh__’s comment: “👍🏼 go ahead”

──────────────────

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

San snickered before undoing your haphazardly done ponytail and threading his fingers through your badly tangled hair. “You need to calm down. You have a meeting soon and you look like an absolute mess. So, I’ll at least braid your hair for you, mmkay, noona?”

“San, if you want to reduce my stress, I would appreciate it if you could go and run through the program schedule and let me know what doesn’t work—”

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

You leaned back in your chair to see him staring down at you. You grimaced at the fact that, even from this angle, his jawline was inhumanely sharp.

“No one is expecting you to run everything. We have group organizers for a reason. You’re just here to volunteer.”

“But I want to help. I’m responsible for getting the word out there. And I want to be able to make a difference for those in group homes—”

“You did. You helped me. Now I’m in a local college. Working as a barista. Volunteering in the same home I met you in.” Before you could cut him off, San continued, “You can take a break, noona. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before. And I’ve seen you literally down an entire six-pack of banana milk after eating two chocolate croissants.”

“They’re called pain au chocolat. They have to be in the shape of crescents to be called croissants.”

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

You gaped at him. “San! Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did.”

You grumbled to yourself before reaching back for your Apple Pencil. San snuck his hand over your shoulder to pluck it out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

Your heart ached as you stared at the screen in front of you. There was too much work to do and you couldn’t afford—

“Are you really cost-benefiting the effects of whether you sing a child to sleep right now?”

“...”

“God, what a professional. Where’s the noona that would sneak kids out to go catch dragonflies and then eat bungeo-ppang while washing it down with banana milk?”

“Are all of your memories of me associated with banana milk?”

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

“Because he’s asking for that song that you sing; the one that only you know.”

You froze.

For some reason, Jinwoo, at the ripe age of eight months, established quite clearly what he liked and disliked, with the latter list nearly double the length of the first.

Every song you sang to him had its expiration date before he would take a metaphorical red Sharpie and cross it off of his likes list.

All except one.

You cursed yourself for singing it so long ago, caught up in exhaustion that you just wanted to quell the baby’s cries as soon as possible.

And so you procured a song that was gathering dust from being long ignored in the recesses of your mind.

You locked your iPad, gathered your stuff together to put away in your bag, slung it over your shoulder and made it up the stairway to where you knew Jinwoo would be.

You found him nestled in several blankets on the floor in the room meant for three-to-six year olds, convinced that the ground would be able to keep him steady unlike the volatile day-to-day he was thrown into since birth. Most of the other kids were out at the local school, but Jinwoo had a lower constitution than them, so would often stay at home. The home did its best to ensure that his schedule was tied with the other kids, including the midday nap.

His chocolate eyes looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched for you to envelope him in your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He giggled as you spun the two of you around the room.

You swaddled him as best you could, a three-year-old much larger than the eight-month-old you once knew him to be.

His hand pressed itself against your cheek and you nuzzled your face against its warmth.

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

“Will you sing to me? The forever song?”

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

You sang to him a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

──────────────────

May 26th.

You thought that date would forever ingrain itself as the day that he forcibly came back into your life by taking you and the rest of the world by storm alongside his group, singing of an awkward and clumsy adoration paired with a point choreography that was, well, pointing.

(At the time, you wondered whether she heard the song, the one you were sure it was written about. You never asked.)

But here you were, six years after his debut into the world as an idol, dressed in your regalia of indigo and black, full bell sleeves, velvet paneling, and a weird puffy hat to top it all off, debuting into the world as a Social Welfare PhD grad.

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

“God, Wheein, can you calm down? We gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It’s an emergency that I don’t have a bottle of soju in my hand right now.”

Byul-yi patted Yongsun in hopes of appeasing her anger. “Remember when you finished your MBA and how that felt?”

Yongsun blinked once before pushing herself off of the couch. “Alright, so how many bottles am I pulling out?”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We need a picture!” Hyejin chastised her childhood friend for taking off after Yongsun. “Bumblebee, come here. Wheein, you too!”

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

You all chorused your phone, handing her the latest model of iPhone. She wiggled her brows at you. “Looking for a sugar baby, mama?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m not paying installments on that sleek piece of overpriced metal and glass.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a broke grad. Alright, alright. Okay, ladies. Now let’s get in formation. Wheein, brush your hair out of your face, you look like a mad scientist. Y/N, stop furrowing your brows like you’re reading those mean comments online. Hyejin, stand up straighter, you’re slouching—probably from bending over all the time—”

“Unnie!”

“Over your centrifuge, okay? Chill. Alright. 1, 2… 2 and a half.”

“How old are you? 50?”

“Alright, for that, you just got a burst. Y/N, I hope you find the ugliest gem in that to post.”

You and Wheein laugh at Hyejin who is now putting on her face of Disapproval and you imagine that Byul-yi is just now taking an endless amount of candids. You reach for the phone, a toothy grin still spread across your lips.

“Oop! Damn, this camera is nice. Don’t get too drunk otherwise you might accidentally drop it into my purse.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed at your phone. You swiped through the camera roll, finding too many of your face, especially when reaching for the camera, thanks to Byul-yi’s trigger happy thumb. However, you looked genuinely happy, so you couldn’t be too mad.

Maybe that’s because you were done slaving over papers and deadlines, you mused.

You showed Wheein and Hyejin the photos as well, refusing to delete the ones where Hyejin is pulling her signature face. You smiled down at your screen before pulling up Instagram to post a photo of all three of you (looking like baddies and not like the unhinged beings you usually are) on your story.

You figured you would post the professional photos you had done by Myungsoo at a later date.

You typed up a caption:

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

You locked your phone and tucked it away, ready to simply celebrate with your beloved group of girls.

That is, until two hours passed, which included a passed out Wheein cuddling into Hyejin on the couch and a drunk Yongsun and tipsy Byul-yi retiring to their own room and you sneaking into their second bedroom. You finally saw several responses to your story, mostly clapping and fire reactions and messages of well-wishes and pride. There was one handle that immediately caught your attention and you couldn’t help but think you were predictable in where your eyes always go.

[22:06] wzljh__ replied to your story: i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: sorry that was dumb of me to assume

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

You checked the time stamps to see that the first three messages came in rapid succession. While the last three came less than ten minutes later, without the “replied to your story,” meaning he actively searched for your conversation in his DMs to send a message.

You wondered whether it was okay to respond. He initiated it, so you figured this was consensual on his end. But… would you be okay?

Lee Jihoon was the one you believed would always know how to crack the code to tear down the walls of your heart. The one for whom your heart would invite in, with offerings of warm tea and resounding laughter and requests to make himself at home in your messy, but safe, space. You were always so utterly bare in front of him that it was almost nauseating with how much trust you put into his hands.

Did he deserve that same trust after what transpired between the two of you?

Regret lives in the past. Anxiety lives in the future. But you lived in the present.

Present (tipsy) you said, “cute human messaged must respond”

You opened up the conversation. 

[23:16] You: alexa, play congratulations by day6.

[23:16] You: happy anniversary to svt!! 🥳 

[23:16] You: hope you’re having fun with the members!!

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

Your breathing hitched as you saw those damned three dots. You really should ask your old Biology tutor why your chest felt as tight as it did. Or maybe Wheein would know the science as to why it felt like your brain was firing a million and one things but was also completely shut down.

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

[23:17] wzljh__: i didnt think u would know that

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

[23:17] wzljh__: you* wow im genius

You giggled softly to yourself.

──────────────────

“You look like an oversized peach, but, like, not a nice one. One that fell off the kitchen counter and now has bruising forming.”

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

“One of these days you’re gonna drop the fuck word too.”

“Mmm. Nope.”

He grabbed at your cheek and pinched it softly. You made a dramatic display of faked annoyance. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be the first one to hear it, alright? I’m gonna hear the fuck word from the kid that everyone else is foolish enough to believe is entirely wholesome.”

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sure. You got most people convinced, but I know you. You’re too fiery for your own good.”

“Oh, so you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Of course,” he replied in English, his words laced with his thick Korean accent. “I’m genius.”

You giggled before you corrected him. “‘I’m a genius.’”

He grinned. “We both can be.”

──────────────────

[23:18] You: the other caratdeul are posting it all over twitter so it’s trending, of course i would know that 😤 i’m in touch with the insiders nowadays

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

You cursed silently. Did alcohol loosen your thumbs too? Is that possible? Would you remember these questions to ask Wheein later?

[23:19] You: uh, i’m also a carat? duh? have you /seen/ jeonghan-oppa’s visuals? 😍

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

You couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that hit, but you figured that he had his own celebration to do.

That is, until a video was sent from his end five minutes later.

You swore Lee Jihoon was going to be the cause of your death one of these days. 

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

You balked at Yoon Jeonghan’s face grinning at the camera. What the frick.

“Jihoon told me that you graduated with your PhD today! Congratulations! Hanniehae!!”

Your heart burst at the sight.

God, Jeonghan was so cute. You so desperately wanted to be his friend when you first discovered SEVENTEEN, almost more jealous of Jihoon for being surrounded by twelve other fantastic human beings rather than the other way around.

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

[23:28] You: !!!! how!!!! is he!!!! so CUTE!!!!!

[23:28] You: this is the best grad gift ever

[23:29] You: my years of indentured servitude to SNU was worth it to just bear witness to that 🥰 i can die happily now; thank you yoon jeonghan for existing

[23:30] wzljh__: um excuse me who else

[23:30] You: and to lee jihoon for the provision and distribution of content: i shall remember your services

[23:30] wzljh__: i now owe ur “jeonghan-oppa” a new lego set just for that

[23:31] You: he’s cute when he goes on vlive and builds it so just think of it as an additional gift to me, ok

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

[23:31] wzljh__: u owe me too now especially since u said i gave the best grad gift ever

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

[23:32] You: ok so technically no one else has given me a gift yet so you were just better than nothing 🤧

[23:32] wzljh__: yes thats always my goal. to be better than nothing

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

[23:33] You: gifts are exchanged for the sake of selflessness and glad tidings!!

[23:34] wzljh__: thats not what u said when u guilted me into buying u the cardcaptor sakura cards because u got me plushies of the straw hat crew

[23:34] You: i didn’t GET you them! i MADE them!! my craftsmanship and time are worth much more than the ccs cards!! equivalent exchange!!

[23:34] wzljh__: god u are such a weeb

[23:34] You: if you recognize my reference you’re not so innocent yourself

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

[23:35] wzljh__: anyway u think ur craftsmanship is worth more than the $50 i dropped on those cards?

[23:35] wzljh__: u wanna tell that to chopper whose head was too big for his body and now looks as though hes in inexplicable pain??

You stared at the screen. What?

[23:35] You: ???? pics or it didn’t happen

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

[23:36] You: !!!!! you still have them with you???

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

[23:37] wzljh__: they may be dopey but mostly dope

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

──────────────────

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

You swallowed the handful of popcorn you so elegantly stuffed in your mouth just seconds prior. “You always do this, Jihoon. You always wait until my mouth is full—”

“Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

“I’m serious. Don’t trust anyone who says that they don’t like anime, alright?”

“What, so, that’s a requirement for whoever I’m going to be involved with in the future?”

“Yes. How can someone be a bad person when they have Monkey D. Luffy to look up to?”

“Fair, but—”

“And if the person can commit to nearly a thousand manga chapters and over eight-hundred episodes, they can commit to you.”

For some reason, his logic overtook your own. You nodded in slow agreement. “I mean. You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not.”

“So, you’re saying I’d have to find my Luffy?”

He eyed you. “I think you’re more of a Nico Robin than a Nami, honestly.”

Your stomach flipped but you brushed aside the implications of his words.

And even years later, your first-date questions always included, ‘If you were a Straw Hat member, who do you think you would be?’

You had yet to find another Zoro.

──────────────────

[23:38] wzljh__: anyway u still owe me

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

[23:39] wzljh__: ill let u know by the end of the week

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

[23:41] wzljh__: u always have a choice 

[23:42] You: hrmmmmmm then… i shall hear you out… maybe… perhaps… mayhaps

[23:42] wzljh__: always been a poet, since that second grade writing contest, havent u

[23:43] You: me? a poet? how about i quote one of the greatest poets of our generation

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

[23:44] You: ‘everyone stand up and clap’

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

[23:46] You: 😢 i come here and get bullied by a member of my favorite k-pop group

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

[23:47] You: i wish i could unsend messages

[23:47] You: or go back 3 seconds in time

[23:48] You: but what if i jump forward 10 seconds..

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

[23:49] wzljh__: alright u are at least a cubic if u watch gose

[23:50] You: 💖💙 it’s what pulled me thru my thesis

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

[23:51] wzljh__: u do some amazing things

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[23:52] You: thanks jihoon so do u

[23:52] You: oh wait i just remembered

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

[23:56] You: an amazing thing u did

[23:56] You: thanks for sharing the info abt the group home project!!

[23:58] You: i don’t think i can ever explain how grateful i am!! it went so smoothly because of the response from the surrounding communities

[00:00] You: and you didn’t need to share the information

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

[00:03] You: oh wait i’m supposed to say thank you

[00:03] You: thank you thank you thank you

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

[00:05] wzljh__: is it bad if i just send a 👍🏼

[00:05] You: you’re gonna ok, boomer me? and my authentic and genuine heartfelt words??

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

[00:09] wzljh__: i suggest u never say that ever again

[00:10] You: yep noted i regretted it as soon as i hit send

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

[00:11] wzljh__: ill let u know what i expect for my equivalent exchange

[00:12] wzljh__: i need to consult with my lawyers on what exactly i can get away with

[00:12] You: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[00:12] wzljh__: i can hear that message and i dont get how

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

[00:13] wzljh__: not until i get my gift lol anyway ill message u by the end of the week

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

[00:15] wzljh__: lolollllllll thats not a pinky promise emoji

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

[00:18] wzljh__: goodnight y/n sleep well

And so you did.

You dreamt of crescent moons, steady heartbeats, gentle melodies, and open arms.

And falling, falling, falling.

──────────────────

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

Not that it particularly mattered when your entire future was splayed out right in front of you.

“So… you either stay in Seoul…” Hyejin began.

“...or I move to New York,” you finished for her.

“...okay, but like, what is even over there?”

“Unnie.”

“I know it’s your favorite city in the world—”

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

“The first Social Work university in America and most prestigious school in said field.”

“But I’m not there!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Hyejin’s pout. “Unnie, you and Wheein were already talking about living together next year because you’re both heading over to Jeju!”

“Which is the same time zone as Seoul! AKA, I can call you at any point I want—”

“We both know that’s not true even if we were in the same time zone.”

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

──────────────────

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

──────────────────

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

──────────────────

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

──────────────────

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

──────────────────

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

──────────────────

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

──────────────────

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

──────────────────

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

──────────────────

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

──────────────────

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?��

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

──────────────────

[끝.]

[side B: him.]