#they’re taunting us with their copies

[pleaselmhau]

Just imagine the sweet little medic on base, the one always giving those beaming smiles and soft touches is the one who wormed their way into Ghost’s heart. It started with him sitting on the shabby cot, having half the mind to just stitch himself up after waiting so long. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place but infection meant he’d be out of commission and that’s not happening. Eventually the sweetest thing comes sauntering on in and instantly he’s glaring. Of course the universe is taunting him. Why else would it put them in here with him? Their cheesy jokes make him roll his eyes, wanting them to just shut up and finally finishing stitching. He’s surprised though when they do finish rather quickly. The stitches are neat too even though they were yapping the whole time. So now he’s torn between being his grumpy self and his begrudging respect for their skills.

So he starts coming to them whenever he’s busted up, he’s a man of habit after all. Not having to risk whatever medic is assigned to him being more annoying or worse bad at their job is one worry he can tick off. Their cheesy jokes start to work on him, complimenting his dry humor truthfully quite well until he has to catch him self grinning a little and pop back on his scowl. Then their sweet smiles start disarming him until one day he’s just look down at their goofy smile and bright eyes and just thinks fuck.

He starts chatting a little more when he comes and starts seeing them more for smaller injuries. Now all of the sudden he’s stopping by the medbay for bruises and shallow cuts too. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he wants, but man does his feet always seem to bring him right back here in front of them. They must notice too as they start tagging along when he’s around base and free, going to the mess hall with him, on his morning walks, even sometimes joining him for training. Until one night they have a few drinks and an hour later they’re under him moaning so sweetly while he’s rutting into them like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately for his defenses, there was. He expected the hookup to ruin whatever was blooming between them but nope, they come right back to his quarters a few nights later for seconds, then thirds, then… you get the picture.

Then he’s giving them a spare key to his quarters, not telling them he had to fake losing his own to get the second copy. At that point they should just sleep there every night right? So they do. It becomes his new routine, squeezing his worries and stress away into their soft, pliant body. Becomes an absolute softie at night when he’s sleepy. Grumbling something about not being comfy before plopping down right on them, practically suffocating them with his big meaty self.

Then his team is finding out because they come back late from a mission, two days late, and the medic is barreling right for him, wrapping him up in an embrace. He watches Soap, Gaz, and Price’s brows raise in question but he doesn’t even really have the answers to himself. He just pats them on the back and plants a chaste kiss right on their forehead, telling them to go back to his quarters and that he’ll be up in a bit. Soap and Gaz tease him, earning sharp glares. Price grumbles something about interpersonal work relationships, but Ghost knows the captain wouldn’t snitch. Ghost doesn’t open up to anyone, Price won’t jeopardize his exception. Beneath it all they’re just happy Ghost is becoming a little less tense, still grumpy, but not as constantly on edge as he used to be.

[cjlouwho]

Just thinking about Tommy Kinard who grew up wishing he was hugged and loved like the neighbors kids were. He’d watch them run off the school bus and right into their mom or dad’s arms and be scooped up and held tight. Sometimes he could smell freshly baked cookies or a pot roast coming from their home as he’d turn the key and walk into his own house. His house where his dad would grunt at him for another beer and tell him to fix them both a frozen dinner (“just don’t eat my Salisbury steak, boy, that one’s mine”). Then one afternoon, when his dad caught him staring out the window at the neighbors all outside playing catch, he gave him a smack on the back of the head and told him to stop daydreaming. Those people were phonies who were never up to any good. Families like that don’t really exist, and they’re never as happy as they seem!

So Tommy buries away the idea he’ll have that. Stops watching the neighbors. Rolls his eyes when he does happen to catch one of their hugs. Grows a bit of a hardened shell.

Then he reaches high school and he thinks things will change now. He’ll have more freedom and friends and maybe he’ll join a club. But his dad tells him clubs are for sissies and he’s gonna be in sports instead. His dad is good friends with the football coach so he doesn’t have to try out. He’s just on the team, whether he likes it or not. And the other guys on the team are crude and constantly taunt and tease each other. Tommy doesn’t join in at first, would rather keep to himself, but that makes him an outcast and a loser and the butt of all their jokes so it’s easier to join in. His shell gets a little thicker.

Recruiters come to the school during his senior year and his grades are good, he could probably get a scholarship or two to a state university, but they promise so much. He’ll get to see the world! They have all these specialized programs he can choose from. They pay well and he’ll have the benefits forever. Most importantly, he’ll be away from his dad. The recruiter doesn’t have to work very hard that day. When Tommy leaves for basic he’s a little scared but mostly excited to be away! And the drill sergeants yell at him and taunt him just like the football team, just like his dad, but he can take it. He can and does prove them wrong.

He’s been wondering things about himself lately. Doesn’t let himself wonder very long though, or his heart races a bit too fast and he panics. There was this one time at basic where he had a moment alone and he jerked himself off but he didn’t use the Playboy magazines the other guys had hidden under their bunks. He thinks of Tyler instead. The guy who was in the bunk above him and had tan skin and muscles all over and a million dollar smile. When he was done, after he caught his breath, he got angry with himself. Put a fist through a wall and got in a good amount of trouble. But the other guys thought he did it because he wanted to show the sergeant how strong he was. They thought it was funny and kinda cool. Even later, as a pilot in Iraq, when he has a moment alone, he’s never thinking about a woman. His shell thickens more.

Then he’s out of the army and he’s becoming a firefighter and he thinks maybe this is when he can relax. So he goes and meets his captain, someone named Vincent Gerrard, and he can tell within thirty seconds of meeting him that this man is a carbon copy of his father. He hasn’t been the butt of a joke in a long time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start back now, so he plays the game. And he plays it damn well.

These shells keep thickening and thickening until he’s not actually sure who he is anymore. He’s spent years being whoever he needs to be to survive and it’s becoming exhausting. Even when Gerrard leaves and Nash arrives, even when his smile actually starts to reach his eyes, he still feels wrong. So he makes a choice. He leaves.

He goes back to flying, which he loved in the army. The freedom of being in the sky was unlike anything else in life. He hears a coworker talk about therapy and he gives it a try. It’s uncomfortable and stressful but he goes back each week and yeah, okay, maybe it does help. He can feel his posture relaxing a bit at least.

He allows himself to be honest with himself. He looks in the mirror one night and takes a deep breath and says the words “I’m gay” for the first time and then he repeats it over and over and over again even as tears fall down his face.

All the shells are starting to crack.

He gets a call from Howie, who he would do anything for without question, and this particular ask gets him reacquainted with Hen, renewed friendship with Howie, a new friendship with Eddie, and a boyfriend with Evan.

Evan. Evan who meets Tommy at the door whenever he’s there, arms open and a smile on his face, ready to hold onto Tommy like it’s his job. There’s usually delicious food cooking that Tommy can smell from the driveway. Evan, who picks up Christopher or Jee and they head to the park or museum for an outing. Evan, who notices that Tommy really likes to draw so he joins a drawing club for the both of them and even though Evan himself is not great at drawing he’s always so excited for them to go together.

Evan, whose kisses linger on his body like a prayer. Whose touch burns his skin in the best way. Who gasps and grunts and grabs and whispers in his ear as their sweaty, muscular bodies practically meld into one. There’s laughter and smiles afterward, as they hold onto each other and fall asleep pressed against one another.

Evan, who makes loving easy to do. Who gives his whole heart and then some. Who breaks whatever was left of Tommy’s shell and makes him realize that the type of love he wanted all those years ago, even as a little kid, was real. It was possible. And he had it.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 28] || [Chapter 30]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: they're very sick... poor babies

Chapter 29: Taking Turns

The next couple of days were rough. 

Between:

Kyle unable to bend down or stand straight for too long before his hip protested;

John unable to stretch himself in any direction due to his lower back hurting;

Johnny limping from his knee and with an arm on a sling;

and Simon having… not quite the flu but something? and getting dizziness spells every time he moved…

You haven’t gotten any proper rest either and have been running back and forth trying to help care for all of them.

They try their best to help, really… But the amount of groans, winces, and strained voices you hear whenever Kyle tries to make you all food, John tries to bend down to help with laundry, Simon tries to sweep, or Johnny tries to do anything two-handed… It’s hard.

Your flat suddenly feels too small for them, for you. 

Haven’t slept in your bed the whole weekend… But hey, at least you get to cuddle Simon all night every night. He’s like your own heater…

It comes to a head on Monday morning. You’ve gotta get to work… It hurts you to leave them like that, all alone, all day, in the state they’re in.

“So… there’s the spare key-” You handed the spare to John who had tried his best to be up with you for breakfast, leaning himself on the wall by the front door as you talk in hushed tones, Simon sleeping barely a couple feet away on the couch, actually getting rest.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine-”

“John…” You murmured as you looked up at him, your face showing nothing if not a deadpan inquiry. “You’re all dying.”

“We’re not dying. We were but we’re doing so much better after having you dote on us all weekend, darling.” He replied with a playful smile, which was cut through by a little wince that made his blue eyes press shut.

“Right.” You retorted and rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve gotten so much better, huh?” You taunted and shook your head.

“It’s fine… we’ve got… 3 or so functioning pairs of legs, 2 spines, 3 and a half pairs of arms and 3 working heads…” He trailed off, humourously listing the unaffected parts of their ailments.

“Ah yes… And somehow none of you are functional at all.” You teased again, smiling playfully, receiving a sigh and a conceding in the shape of an eye roll from him.

“Anyways,” You told him as you cupped his face. “You get back to bed… And try not to die, all of you. This flat isn’t mine, I don’t think you should die in here.” You added.

“Copy that.” John nodded with a chuckle which drew another wince from him. He kissed your forehead lightly then limped his way back to bed.

-

You had just gone on your lunch break when you shot the lads a message to check on their state:

you: how r u all doing? 👀

By the time you came back from lunch, you hadn’t gotten a reply to your text… And normally that wouldn’t worry you…

If it weren’t for the fact they’re bunked down in your flat because they’re all injured or sick.

You went back to work with your phone in your pocket, patiently waiting a text from them… 

you: pls tell me ur alive

Even with that message, it still took another hour and a half for an answer to come.

You were about to jump ship and go home early by then, when Johnny answered you.

Johnny: souo you: what? Johnny: soup Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

The video you got was not one you expected. 

Firstly, it was a very zoomed in 10 seconds of one of your metal pots with a heeping quantity of chicken noodle soup boiling in it.

Then, the camera panned over to display Kyle, John and Simon sprawled on the couch, head’s dangling back over the edge, snoring away.

“We made soup… bonnie.” Johnny said from behind the camera, his voice groggy and dragging, a consequence of the strong painkillers he had been taking for the last 3 days after his gunshot.

“Gonna have seconds… it’s so good…” He announced in a conspiratory tone and shushed the video before he finished the video.

How they managed to force themselves to stand up and stay awake long enough to cook a whole pot worth of soup, you have no idea. 

But, hey, at least they were alive. And that eased your worries.

And so, you got back to work, finishing your work day.

Coming back to work, you were surprised to find the flat in a similar state as when you left, which was surprising considering you expected a mess of dishes and food left for you to clean.

The boys had also moved from the couch and to the bedroom, their snores and heavy breaths coming from down the hall, as well as the sound of the shower running.

You closed the door carefully behind yourself, took off your shoes and padded over to the kitchen with the little shopping bag worth of things you bought after work.

Just as you’re about to start putting things in the fridge and cupboards, a figure show up at the kitchen door, making you jump a bit and huff a breath of surprise.

Turning to look at him, eyes wide and startled, you come face-to-face with a glistening wet Kyle wrapped in your last clean towel. There you go, needing to do more laundry again.

“Hi, Kyle… Didn’t hear you come in.” You admitted with a smile as you looked at him.

“Hey, lovie… How was work?” He murmured as he approached you and kissed you softly on the forehead. He certainly seemed a bit more mobile than yesterday when you put him to bed.

“It was good… I see you boys made yourselves right at home, huh?” You gestured vaguely to the pot of soup on the back of the stove, lidded to keep for later.

“Yeah… John had the idea… Sent Soap to the shops to get the chicken and the carrot and all…” He trailed off as he nuzzled himself against you, an arm wrapped around your waist as he rubbed his nose against the crown of your head.

“I see… He was able to carry everything one handed?” You asked playfully, earning a chuckle from Kyle. 

“Surprisingly yes…” He trailed off and smiled as he lowered his head to steal a soft peck from your lips.

“What about cooking? Who did that?” You asked playfully as you returned the kiss, then, slipped away from his arm wrapped around you. You resumed putting things away in the cupboards and fridge.

“We took turns…” Kyle admitted a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Every 10 minutes we’d switch spots with each other and sit on the couch…” He trailed off and chuckled. 

“I see… I can imagine how that went… the four of you lot wobbling back and forth between the kitchen and the sofa… leaning your head on the cupboard because of the pain while you TRIED to shred chicken and stir the soup and all?” You joked.

“It was miserable… But the soup’s really good…” Kyle admitted.

“Yeah, bet it is… Johnny sent me a text about it…” You added with a chuckle. “Now how about you dry yourself up and get dressed before you catch something, hm?”

“Or you could warm me up instead…” Kyle quipped and winked at you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[pprodsuga]

secrets untold (part 1) | sunghoon

summary: ever since sunghoon graduated university, he’s been working the same bothersome job without any real excitement in his life. but when you move into the apartment next to his, sunghoon’s reality is turned upside down and he finds himself running all over korea with you by his side. as he comes to learn, not everything is as it seems.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

notes: ahhhhh. four revisions later and i’ve managed to write the best version of this story. i also made a playlist that you should definitelyyyy listen to while reading this. there’s nothing left for me to say other than i love sunghoon and i hope you enjoy. xx

SECRETS UNTOLD PLAYLIST

WORD COUNT: 24.1K

MASTERLIST + TAGLIST SIGN UP

to my lovely best friend @moonstruck-muses for helping me on my revisions, for brainstorming with me, and for being the best person i know.

consider leaving a comment (or two) and reblogging! x

warnings under the cut!

content warnings: mentions and descriptions of guns and a blood wound, violence in the form of hand-to-hand combat and gunshots, descriptions of stitches, alcohol use.

*��･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Just once does Sunghoon wish for something exciting in his life. 

Day in and day out, he swipes his keycard to enter the lobby of the high-rise building he calls his workplace and locates his secluded office by the back of the floor. His name sits in gold lettering, the prestigious plaque gifted to him upon his promotion a few years prior. Sunghoon’s morning begins by opening his laptop to note all of the reports he has yet to finish from the day before and checks his email for any lingering questions from clients or his co-workers. Despite his diligence, his peers aren’t and he finds himself picking up the slack more often than not. Being a financial analyst was not on Sunghoon’s bucket list of goals to achieve in his twenties. In fact, Sunghoon would rather do almost anything other than look at numbers all day and tell people what to do with them. 

If he had his way, Sunghoon would have chosen a career path less rigorous and numerical-based. He would’ve tried his hand at photography and studied the fine arts to garner a career in the editorial space, or perhaps he would use his time at university to study the history of coffee before opening his own shop in the busy city of Seoul. But his parents had other plans for him, namely to study law, medicine, or finance, and the latter of the three options seemed less boring to him. 

His years of studying lead him here, at Kim Search Group, crunching numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him. 

The glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose become bothersome after an hour of staring at his laptop. His next meeting is in twenty minutes and he’s less than pleased when he realizes his reports are on the docket. The agenda stares back at him in hard, black letters like they’re taunting him. Sunghoon thinks they mock him with the way the cursor hovers over the parts highlighted for his portion of the presentation. Nonetheless, Sunghoon acquires what he needs and heads to the meeting room. 

Everybody arrives early as usual. His boss concludes the opening remarks and lets his employees take the floor. One by one, Sunghoon’s co-workers stand in the front of the room and report their findings and other related topics from the past month. It all sounds the same to him; every person in this room looks like they could be carbon copies of one another with their suits too expensive and cologne too strong. It makes Sunghoon nauseous. Everybody here lives for everyone else instead for themselves, himself included.

“Good work, Park,” his boss tells him on the way out of the meeting room. “I grow impressed by your work ethic and capabilities everyday.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim,” Sunghoon says with a bow.  

“Do you think you can finish the Kang-Yoon reports by tonight? Our clients will be here first thing tomorrow morning to review before they decide on their purchase. I’d love to get them a first draft of their financial report when they come in.” 

With a tight smile, Sunghoon nods. “Sure thing. I’ll email it to you tonight.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Mr. Kim winks. He nudges Sunghoon’s arm like they’re old friends. 

By the time he gets home, it’s nearly nine in the evening. His tie sits loosely around his neck and his suit jacket is thrown haphazardly over his arm with the too-expensive briefcase his father bought him when he had been promoted. Sunghoon can’t help but scoff when he sees the dark brown leather staring back at him. 

Sunghoon lives in a quiet part of town, just on the outskirts of Seoul. His neighbors are either asleep by the time the sun goes down or busy juggling children with muffled laughter echoing in the hallways. Typically, Sunghoon expects to come home and enter his apartment lobby to be greeted by the doorman who wishes him a good night, take the elevator to the third floor, and tidy his living room while trying to undress himself in the meantime. 

Except, you’ve moved into the apartment next to his. 

Now, Sunghoon walks with excitement because he anticipates running into you when he’s on his way up. Sometimes you both arrive at the lobby together. Other times it’s you that he sees unlocking his door when he approaches. It doesn’t matter to him, though. The only good thing about working late on the weekdays is that he gets to run into you when he comes home. 

He quickly learns that you like to keep to yourself. You aren’t a loud person–not like his neighbor who lives on the other side of him–because he barely hears your footsteps and never hears you watching television. The most he’s heard is the scrape of a chair against hardwood floors. 

Above all, Sunghoon thinks you’re cute. You make his heart flutter for no good apparent reason. He’s barely spoken a word to you beyond introducing himself when you first moved in and yet he finds himself pacing his living room, wondering what kind of food you like to eat and what you do on the weekends. 

Sunghoon wishes he could come up with something witty to say to convince you to keep talking to him. But even seeing you in your well-worn clothes and tires expression on a Wednesday night is enough to leave him flustered. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon says awkwardly with a single nod in acknowledgement when he sees you standing in front of your apartment. He watches your hand halt by the knob. You turn your head to look around you and Sunghoon feels the heat creep up his neck. 

“Hi?” you say with an uptick in your voice, pointing at yourself. 

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.” 

“You already said that.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Sunghoon.” 

“I know. I remember you from when I moved in.” 

“O-Oh,” Sunghoon stutters. “Right, yeah. You’re right. Well, I’ll introduce myself again in case you need anything.” 

You unlock your apartment and step inside. “Duly noted. Goodnight, Sunghoon.” 

When the door locks behind you, Sunghoon closes his eyes and curses at the ceiling for being awkward around you. He swears he might’ve felt his knees buckle when he looked into your eyes and struggles to fish out his apartment keys. 

He always wishes he could say something that would convince you to stay in the hallway just a minute longer. He wants to be courageous enough to ask a question that piques your interest, so much so that he invites you back to his apartment to discuss it over a bottle of soju before you head back to your place. But Sunghoon doesn’t do any of that because he always gets tongue-tied when he realizes you’re standing before him, and because you always close the door before he can even think of something else to say to you. Sunghoon sighs in defeat and loosens his tie as soon as he steps through the threshold of his own apartment. 

He sleeps with the sound of crickets chirping outside his window. 

The following morning is the same. Sunghoon wakes up before the sun has the chance to say hello, swipes his keycard to access his office, and stares at his laptop until he’s sure his eyes will fall out of their sockets. 

While he meanders in his office with an unusually meeting-free day, Sunghoon uses his idle time to think about you. It seems as if his thoughts gravitate towards you these days, especially as he’s gathered the courage to say more than a few words every time you’re in his line of sight. He still feels that anxiety in the pit of his stomach when he sees you with your hair down after a long day, but it’s not enough to discourage Sunghoon from being as polite as he can so that you remember him as being kind. 

If he remembers correctly, you moved into the apartment next to his four months ago. Sunghoon recalls seeing a load of boxes perched by your front door and the bubbling excitement of seeing the new tenant piqued his interest. A large one was used as a door stopper and he’d noticed you carrying boxes inside one-by-one. In fact, that’s the first and only time Sunghoon recalls seeing what the interior of your apartment looked like. White, bare, and undecorated. He had offered to help but you declined on the notion that you hired movers to help bring the rest of your belongings. The two of you exchanged names and pleasantries, and when the conversation fell flat, Sunghoon settled to welcome you into the neighborhood and told you to reach out if you ever needed anything. Much to his dismay, you didn’t. 

It’s crazy for him to think about how tongue-tied he’s gotten for a complete stranger over a short period of time, even crazier because he doesn’t know the first thing about you. 

It’s gotten so bad that his friends have heard Sunghoon speak about you countless times. 

Jay and Jake are his best friends from college and the only people he talks to. Sunghoon’s career has overtaken his social life with many friendships and blooming relationships falling apart because of his commitment to work. His degree is the product of parental expectation, but his paycheck is enough to make him feel comfortable and Sunghoon likes to surround himself with people who don’t make him feel like a stoic shell of a human being. 

It seems as though Jay and Jake aren’t tired of him because they regularly include him in drinking nights and check in about his nonexistent relationship with his neighbor crush. Jay in particular is extremely vocal about having work-life balance in order to, as he puts it, “have a life for yourself before you grow old and die alone.” 

For now, however, Sunghoon is happy watching you from afar and praying that there’s a reason for the two of you to become closer. 

It’s another Tuesday night and Sunghoon is staying late again. Mr. Kim is too, so Sunghoon supposes tonight must not be all that bad if his superior has ordered takeout for himself for the late hours. Sunghoon arrives at his apartment around the same time he always does and prepares himself for a well deserved, deep slumber before he does this again tomorrow. Only, Sunghoon hopes he sees you before he’s off to dreamland.

And there you are, unlocking your apartment door. You look far too cute at nine in the evening. It’s unfair. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon calls out to you, throat far too dry to continue speaking. He pulls his keys out of his pockets to keep himself busy when he feels your eyes burning into him. 

“That’s the second time you’ve started a conversation by saying that.” Sunghoon whips his head in your direction to be met with a charming smile that seems almost playful. It’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him like this and he swears he feels his knees buckle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “I guess I’m running out of things to say after a long day at work.”

“Is it that bad?”

Sunghoon breathes out a laugh. “I’m a financial analyst. Long hours and not a lot of socializing, if you can believe it.”

“Oh,  I believe it.” You put your keys in the lock and push the door open. “Can’t say I’m a big fan of math.” 

“It all starts to look the same after a while but you get used to it. Crunching all those numbers…I feel like I’m saving the world,” Sunghoon says facetiously. 

“Well, I'm sure you’re a superhero to someone.” 

“I highly doubt it, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.” 

“I hope tomorrow is kinder,” you tell him as you walk into your apartment. “Don’t let those numbers get you down.” 

“Goodnight,” he calls after as you close the door with a friendly smile. 

Sunghoon is barely able to make it into his apartment when his cheeks start to hurt from how wide he’s stretched the lower half of his face. As he stares at your shared wall, he feels a sense of excitement and pride swell in his chest upon replaying his conversation with you over and over again. He paces in his living room with the image of your grin etched in his memory and eats a quick meal before getting ready for bed. 

Sunghoon sleeps with a smile on his face. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When the weekend approaches, Jay and Jake accompany Sunghoon to a bar across from his apartment on a rare Friday night at eight o-clock on the dot.

For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon leaves his office right on time with no prospect of having to work later in the evening or on the weekend. His friends convince him to go to the dive bar and celebrate his early dismissal with a drink or two. Sunghoon doesn’t remember the last time he saw them so casually like this because he’s either still at the office or too tired to agree to their plans. 

Each of them have at least two drinks in their system. The bar food is starting to digest and the chips are a little too stale for Sunghoon’s liking but Jay and Jake don’t seem to mind as they keep shoveling them into their mouths in between conversations. The two of them seem far too energetic for Sunghoon to keep up and the exhaustion from the past week is finally catching up to him. 

“Work has been killing me,” Jake groans while clutching his beer bottle. “You know how I just passed my two-year mark at the Seoul Research Center? Well, my boss assigned me an apprentice who’s interning for the semester and he’s just not cut out for this kind of stuff. I have to remind him about basic protocol every single time we work together.” 

“That blows,” Jay says. 

“I babysit him more than I do my actual work and I’ve been going in on Saturdays to finish my work. My boss told me not to fuck this up because this kid is apparently the son of one of the investors and plans to work here full time after he graduates college. This is gonna blow up in my face, guys. I just know it.” Jake sighs. “But what about you both? What have you been up to?”

“Some idiot misfiled a bunch of expense reports and I’m responsible for managing them.” Jay rolls his eyes and slumps back in his seat. “I’m good at my job, I know I am. I bring in clients like it’s nobody’s business but because I’m the youngest on my team, all of the managerial tasks are put on me. I mean, we have a secretary for a reason and that’s literally in the job description. Why can’t they do it?” 

“Guess this is a bad week for both of us,” Jake says with a light chuckle. “I look forward to the weekend when I realize it’s Monday.” 

“What about you, Sunghoon? How are things with you and the firm?”

The condensation of his drink feels nice against Sunghoon’s palm. Jay and Jake are looking at him expectantly and he knows the topic would come around to his job at one point or another. He plasters a small smile on his face and tries to answer as honestly as possible. 

“Same old, same old. I’ve only been working late a few days every other week. It’s not as taxing as it was before.” 

“Are the higher ups still giving you a hard time?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’m only responsible for seven junior analysts. They’re all competent enough and get their work done on time. I don’t really have to look after them like my colleagues and thank god for that.” 

“I’m still rooting for you to quit your job,” Jay encourages. 

“I’ll quit my job when you quit yours.” 

“Touche.” They don’t press him about it anymore. 

“Any update on the hottie next door?” Jake asks.

“Don’t call Y/N that,” Sunghoon scolds. “You make her sound like a hooker.” 

Jake shrugs. “You said she was hot.” 

“I said she was pretty.”

“So you don’t think she’s hot?” Sunghoon rolls his eyes as the other two laugh at him from across the booth. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. It’s fun to see you all riled up.” 

“There’s something incredibly wrong with you.”

“Okay, enough with Jake.” Jay pushes his friend to the back of the booth to get closer to Sunghoon with both elbows on the table. “On a serious note, have you talked to her yet?” Sunghoon closes his eyes shut in shame and grimaces. “I’ll take it as a no?” 

“Oh we talked,” he says, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. “I actually grew a pair and talked to her when I came home.” 

“Why is that a bad thing?” 

“I started the only conversations we’ve had by saying ‘hey’ like a virgin loser.” Sunghoon groans before facing his friends again. “She called me out on it too.” 

“Ouch,” Jake winces. “That bad?” 

“Well, she laughed and we talked about my job a little. She called me a superhero for dealing with math.” 

Jay shrugs. “You kind of are.”“Did anything else happen?” Jake asks. “Did she invite you over? Did you invite her over?”

“Slow down, Jaeyun. Not everyone is as pathetically desperate as you are.” 

Sunghoon laughs. “No, I didn’t invite her over. I also didn’t go to her place. But she said she hoped the next day would be kinder so I think that’s a good sign?” 

“Dude, you’re thinking way too hard about this. That’s like, the best kind of sign. It means she cares about you.” 

“I wouldn’t go so far to say that. Maybe the next time I see her, I won’t be such a fucking loser.” Sunghoon finishes his drink. 

“Well, maybe you won’t be so tongue tied now that you guys are familiar with each other,” says Jake. “She knows something about you now.” 

“But I don’t know anything about her,” Sunghoon groans. 

“That’s why you make small talk, Hoon. Maybe try asking Y/N about her day and see where that takes you.” 

“Y/N seems like the kind of person to keep to herself. She’s always so quiet.” 

“Maybe she’s just a quiet person, then,” Jay adds. “You know, someone you have to get to know in order to get them out of their shell.” 

“I’m so bad at talking to girls.” Sunghoon chastises himself and nods when the waiter signals to ask if he’d like another beer. “I get in my own head and end up making a fool of myself.” 

“If words fail, just smile at her and use your good looks,” Jake teases. The waiter brings the three of them fresh, cold bottles. Sunghoon takes a long sip and savors the flavor as it slides down his throat. The coolness of the liquid provides a nice contrast to his warm face. 

“I couldn’t tell you why I'm so hung up on Y/N. When I see her, I feel like my feet are planted into the floor and nothing I want to say comes out of my mouth.” 

“That, my friend, is what it’s like to have a crush,” Jay says. “I mean, you remember the time Jake had a crush on his lab partner in sophomore year, right? The one time he brought her coffee, he ended up spilling it on her white shirt.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jake groans. “But God, I’m really no better.” 

“You’re not the only one feeling like this, man.” Jay takes a drink. “Maybe you should take it as slow as you are right now, you know? Start by talking to her before you both go your separate ways. Maybe you’ll be comfortable enough to ask her on a date.” 

Sunghoon laughs humorlessly. “God, I’ve been pining after this girl for so long and I don’t know a single thing about her other than her name. What if I never get to know her? What if she moves away and we don’t keep in touch? Or worse, what if she's dating somebody? What if she’s not into guys?” 

“Well, I don’t think we can help there,” Jake shrugs. 

“I mean, I’d be bummed but I wouldn’t be upset.” 

“You would totally be upset.” 

“Okay,” Sunghoon says. “Maybe a little upset.”

“There’s no use in thinking about what-ifs,” Jay advises. “You’ll only give yourself a headache.” 

“My mom keeps asking about when I’m gonna get a wife,” Sunghoon complains. “Every time we talk on the phone, I can tell she humors the pleasant talk about my job and life because she becomes really animated when she asks that question. How do I tell her that I’m so fucking hung up on my neighbor that the thought of dating anyone else repulses me?” 

“Damn,” Jay swears. “You really like this girl, don’t you?” 

“Yes, and it’s really fucking frustrating to pine after her because I barely know her and I’m ready to drop everything if she called me right now.” 

“Maybe she’s not worth it,” Jake says with a shrug. “I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but maybe there’s a reason why you haven’t been able to make a move on her. Maybe you guys aren’t good for each other and the universe is trying to tell you that. I don’t know.” 

“I just wish someone would send me a sign,” Sunghoon pleads. “I don’t really know what sign, but something that’ll make us talk more. I need courage. I just need one chance. If it fails and she rejects me, then I’ll be an adult and move on with my life.” 

“You deserve to be happy,” says Jay. “After all the shit you’ve been through, you deserve at least to go on a date with a cute girl.” 

“Everything feels so bleak these days. I go to work every single day and leave unfulfilled. It’s like I’m floating through my day to make it to the weekend just to do this every single week. Before I know it, the holidays have come and another year goes by. I feel like I’m wasting my life by being at this job but my parents sacrificed so much so that I could have the life I have now.

“I don’t know what to do, guys. Every day feels the same. I wonder if this is how my life is supposed to be for the rest of it. Life is so fucking hard and all I want is a break. I just want to feel something.”

“I wish we could give it to you,” Jay says quietly. He knocks his hands to Sunghoon’s. “You know we’re with you every step of the way, right?” 

“I know. It’s just…hard.” 

“You’re the best person I know, Hoon,” Jake comforts. “I’m really sorry that everything went down the way it did.” 

“Sometimes, I wonder if I feel like this for Y/N because I daydream about her to escape my life,” Sunghoon confesses. “I think about a future with her, and I know that sounds crazy considering I barely know her, but sometimes I wonder what it’ll be like to come home to her instead of parting ways when we get home at the same time. I think about cooking meals for her and going on dates instead of working late. I think about falling asleep next to her instead of being alone. I wonder what my life would’ve been like if my parents never forced me to study finance. Maybe Y/N and I could have a chance.” 

“Or, maybe you would’ve never met her at all,” Jay says. “Maybe you would’ve never met us.” 

“In another life, I’d own a coffee shop and my biggest worry would be somebody making a scene.” Sunghoon laughs. “I could deal with that.” 

“Do we get free coffee for life?” Jake asks, pointing between himself and Jay. “I think bitching in dive bars all these years together means we deserve free coffee.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Sunghoon teases. “But seriously, I think…I’m so tired of my life right now because I’m unhappy. There’s no excitement. There’s nothing to keep me going. Work doesn’t fulfill me and I hate it when my boss asks me to stay late. But if I quit my job, I don’t know what I’d do. My parents would disown me if I abandoned their plans for me. 

“And you know, I feel so fucking selfish talking like this when there are so many people in Korea who don’t have what I have because they don’t have the means to work. I feel so guilty thinking like this when people go hungry every day because they can’t afford to eat. What kind of person does that make me? I can handle bad days so long as there’s a roof over my head.” 

“Sure, but you can’t control the way you feel and your upbringing doesn’t make you a bad person,” Jay assures. “You can acknowledge that you’ve had it good in life but that doesn’t mean your struggles aren’t any less valid.” 

“Yeah, and beating yourself up over it is only making you more upset. You deserve to be happy, Sunghoon. Don’t forget that.” 

“Thanks, guys. I guess I’ve avoided saying how unhappy I am out loud. Sometimes it feels too much because I don’t have a second to myself. When I get home, I sleep and then the next day comes. I dread closing my eyes because that means I have to work the next day.”

“One step at a time,” Jay says. “We’ll be there with you until you figure out what to do next.” 

“You guys mean the world to me. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake says, hiding his blush. “We know.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Another week goes by and Sunghoon is disappointed because not once did he run into you. 

He doesn’t know if the universe has it against him or what it is about his conversation with his friends that has left him feeling so empty these past few days. Leaving the bar with alcohol and hope in his system had Sunghoon feeling like he was on top of the world and that everything would fall into place if he willed it enough. But upon coming home on Monday evening and the nights after that, he didn’t see you at your door. 

Sunghoon wonders if his life was always supposed to be like this–stagnant to the point where he feels numb, like he's supposed to be a cog in the machine until the day he retires. Even then, Sunghoon wonders if he’ll be happy when he’s finally able to stop being miserable. His greatest fear is looking back at his life and seeing a plethora of unhappy moments instead of achieving what he wanted for himself. He’s afraid of taking his last breath, regretting the relationships he let fall through the cracks and not choosing a life that he wanted to live in favor of making his parents happy. 

He wonders if there’s more to his life than feeling alone all the time. He wonders if he’ll regret marrying the person he spends the rest of his life with if he continues down this path, so aggravated by his mother’s inquiries about his love life that he’ll ask the first girl who shows interest in him to marry him. Sunghoon doesn’t know when he’ll stop feeling like an empty shell of a human being and he can’t remember the last time he was truly happy. 

Everyday, Sunghoon feels like he’s on autopilot. It feels as though someone else has taken control of his life and he’s completing the orders of somebody else against his will. It’s hard to push back against his norm when he’s got nobody to stand behind him. Knowing his parents would be disappointed in him if he abandoned the life he worked hard for is enough for Sunghoon to remain afraid of changing anything. 

He’s snapped out of his daydreams when he hears you come home. This is the first time that you’ve arrived later than he has, to his knowledge, and he wonders if you’ve had dinner. It’s a Friday night and he thinks about if you’ve got any plans for later in the evening. 

Sunghoon stares at the television screen and lets the colorful animation fly right over his head as he contemplates his next move. He’s itching to invite you over with all of the unopened bottles of soju he has in his fridge, thanks to Jake buying a case for him at the start of the week. All of the thoughts about how his life feels desolate is enough to convince him that he might have enough courage to invite you over for drinks. 

Without thinking too much about it, Sunghoon stands from his spot on the couch and grabs two bottles from his fridge. He pays no mind to the cold sensation against his palms, nor does he care that he’s walking in the hallway in his pajamas and slippers. Sunghoon shoves down any nervousness as he knocks on your doors and figures he has nothing to lose, even if you reject him. He hears your feet shuffling behind the door before you open it. 

“Sunghoon?” you say with an uptick in your voice. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat. Sunghoon holds up the soju bottles, where the condensation has begun running down the side of the glass and onto his fingers. “I, uh, have a few bottles because a friend bought them for me and don’t want to drink them by myself. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have a drink with me.” 

You peer up at him and Sunghoon feels like you’re inspecting him. He avoids running back to his apartment despite his mind telling him to hide. It’s at this moment that Sunghoon realizes he’s putting his heart on his sleeve.

“I’d love to,” you agree. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes? I want to change into something more comfortable.” Sunghoon looks at your attire and you’re still dressed like you’ve just come back from work.

“Yes,” he nods. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Just knock on my door when you’re ready.” 

You give him a smile that makes him feel like his heart might burst right out of his chest. 

He anxiously waits for you and pulls out his speaker, connecting his phone to play at an appropriate volume. Sunghoon sifts through his playlists until he lands on one that he’s satisfied with and pockets his phone, anxiously pacing around the living room until he hears you knock. 

“You look cozy,” he comments, seeing your pajama pants and a sweater that looks a bit too oversized on your body. Sunghoon tries his best to keep himself from making you uncomfortable and steps aside to let you in. 

“I hope it’s okay that I brought my own slippers.” He looks down to see your purple ones. “I felt kind of weird putting my shoes on when you’re only a few steps away from me.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Sunghoon brings out two shot glasses from his cabinets and sets them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

You sit politely on the couch while Sunghoon opens a bottle of peach soju and pours a shot in both glasses. He’s slightly buzzed from previously drinking alone and chuckles when he sees your leg crossed over the other, handing one of the glasses to you. His usual, awkward demeanor is relinquished with the alcohol in his system already. 

“Here, I think you’ll need a shot or two to loosen up.” You laugh when you hear the glass clink against his before drinking. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “This?” 

“Drink,” you clarify. “And get to know somebody completely off the bat.” 

“Well, I’d say we’re pretty acquainted.” Sunghoon pours another shot for himself and beckons you to bring yours over. “We’ve been neighbors for a few months and we know each other’s names. I think we know each other pretty well.” 

“Your definition of knowing someone well is different from mine. But maybe I’ll need to take a page or two out of your book.” The two of you clink glasses and drink together. 

“You know, I was a little nervous about asking you to hang out,” Sunghoon confesses, sitting on the couch with a respectable distance between the two of you. “You’re the only neighbor I see regularly. It’s nice to see a familiar face from time to time.” 

You take the bottle from Sunghoon. “I think you might be the only person I’ve spoken to, really. Well, except for the doorman.” 

“Love that guy.” Sunghoon lets you pour liquid into his shot glass and the two of you take another shot together. 

“I don’t feel like I’ve gotten to know a lot of the people here. But it’s a big building and so much is always happening. I feel like I’m playing catch up every time people greet me when we’re in the elevator together.” 

“You get used to it. There are people from all walks of life who live here and sometimes it’s hard to remember who’s who.” 

“I moved in a few months ago, as you know, and I feel like I’m just barely starting to get to know the neighborhood. Do you know Mrs. Kang from 31B? Apparently, her grandson owns a noodle shop just two blocks from here and she swears it’s a neighborhood staple.” 

“It’s a small hole in the wall that gets the job done,” Sunghoon nods. “It’s pretty good but they close so early.” 

You frown. “That’s a shame.” 

“What do you do for work, if you don’t mind me asking? We run into each other at the same time most of the week so I figured you might have a night job, or something.” 

“I work as security at the Seoul Metropolitan Library and I usually cover the night shifts because people rarely volunteer for them.” 

Sunghoon pours more soju in the glasses. “Oh, really? That’s pretty cool. Do you like working there?” 

“It’s a comfortable job that pays decently well. It isn’t the most exciting job but it’s a means to an end, you know?” 

Sunghoon immediately drinks his shot. “I know it all too well.” 

You follow suit. “Is your job really that bad?” 

“I don’t want to bore you with the details, or anything. I invited you over because I thought we could be friends.” 

You look at him, amused. “Sunghoon, it’s a Friday night and we’re both staying indoors to drink. This is the perfect time to bitch and moan about your job.” 

“Well, shit. In that case, I think we’ll need to finish this bottle off and get another two.” 

He leaves you on the couch when the two of you finish the bottle and brings out two more, along with some dry snacks he found in his kitchen. He brings them over on a stray to avoid cleaning a mess while he’s inebriated and sets it on the table in front of you. By now, you’ve taken the liberty to sink to the floor and rest your back on the couch. Sunghoon hides behind a grin at the notion that you might already be comfortable around him. 

“Alright, I’ll need to be significantly more drunk to talk about work. You absolutely don’t have to drink more if you don’t want to.” 

“Don’t be silly,” you say, grabbing the bottle from him before pouring yourself another shot. “It’s no fun to drink alone.” Sunghoon’s cheeks burn as he watches you swallow the liquid, forcing himself to focus on anything but you to avoid choking on his own spit. 

Sunghoon’s mind is already hazy from the head start he had but he can’t deny that you look like the epitome of comfort in your oversized hoodie and pajama pants. He wonders if this is what you must look like when you get home from work and if you’re somebody who likes to sleep with the blankets tucked just underneath your chin. He wills himself to stop daydreaming when he hears you put the glass on the table. 

“My job is soul-sucking,” Sunghoon begins. “Everyday is the same and I sit in my office contemplating on jumping out of my window if that means I stop being so miserable every time I open my eyes.” 

“You work in finance, right?”

He nods, touched that you remembered. “I do. To sum it up, my job is basically to tell people whether or not they’re spending their money wisely to make a profit. It’s a greedy, immoral business that makes everybody miserable. Yet, everyone keeps a straight face and pretends to be happy by gloating about how much money they have or what liquid assets are in their possession.”

“Sounds tough.” 

“I’m pretty good with numbers and my dad works in finance, too. I guess it runs in my blood.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I know. But he’s set some pretty high expectations for me that seem pretty unattainable and it feels like the only way I can make him proud is by staying at this job and climbing the ranks until I become somebody’s boss. 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m living somebody’s else’s life and I’m watching from the backseat. Most days make me feel like my life runs on a loop because I experience the same kind of dread every time I wake up and get ready for work. I can’t enjoy coming home because I stay later than what’s expected of me and barely get a wink of sleep before I do it all over again.”

“I can understand that to a degree,” you say. Sunghoon watches as you fidget with the strings on your sweater. “Living for somebody else feels bleak when every day feels the same. It’s like there’s no beginning or end.” 

He nods enthusiastically. “There’s no purpose in my life right now. I don’t care about our clients or that the rich are getting richer. They could give their money away to people who actually need it but don’t.” 

“People who have power are greedy and that’s true no matter where you go. It doesn’t matter if it’s money or influence, politics or connections, it’s always the same.” 

“I come from money too,” he admits, pouring himself another shot. Sunghoon stares at the liquid until it settles within the small glass and sighs. “My dad made a fortune in the economic boom just after he married my mom. He understands the struggle, to a degree, but I think he lost a lot of it when his career took off. 

“I grew up in a gated community and never had to think twice about asking for anything because I knew I’d always get it. I was so spoiled as a kid and was always told to be grateful for what I have because not many people could say the same.” Sunghoon laughs incredulously. “God, I sound like a dipshit.” 

“Maybe just a little.” The way you smile at him makes Sunghoon feel like his stomach is performing backflips. 

“I realized a lot of people weren’t like me when I got to university. My best friends had part-time jobs to afford tuition while I didn’t have to. How fucked up is that? I realized the majority of the world works so hard for virtually nothing while people like me sit on power and do horrible things with it. The company I work for glorifies these kinds of people and it pains me to see who gets taken advantage of in the name of making a sale. 

“I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, or anything,” Sunghoon says, looking at you. “Although, I’m pretty drunk at this point and can’t seem to shut up.” You pour yourself another shot and nudge your glass against his. 

“The world might be a messed up place but that doesn’t mean you have to beat yourself up for it. Sometimes you need to follow what you’re told just to survive.” 

“So we both know what it’s like to work in a corporate hell hole, huh?” Sunghoon asks. He chugs his shot and you follow suit. 

“Something like that, yeah. In my experience, putting your head down can only last for so long. Being in that kind of environment makes a person feel like I’m a pawn in someone else’s game and I can’t speak up for myself without repercussions.” 

“You fucking get it,” Sunghoon muses. He slaps his thighs like it’s a revelation. “I don’t have many friends other than the two guys I met in university because this job has cut into every part of my life. My colleagues are all people who care a little too much about their jobs and make it a mission to see who can yield the highest profit margin for clients across the board. It’s depressing, really.” 

“Money makes people do crazy things. People forget their morals if that means they get a big payout.” 

“I feel like I’m the only person at the company who feels like this. Everybody brags about their work. My boss always tells me I’m doing it right by keeping my success stories to myself but he doesn’t get that I feel ashamed to be doing the work that I do.” 

You nod slowly. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on the way you shift your gaze to look at the coffee table in front of you and the way your mouth parts slightly ajar like you’re about to say something. He waits patiently for you, but you don’t say anything. 

“Anyway, sorry for the rant,” he apologies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to talk that long.” 

“You didn’t. You just made me think a lot about my life. I hadn’t realized that I felt the same.” Sunghoon gestures his hand, beckoning for you to continue. “Ah, my life is filled with chaos. Most days, I don’t know when to quit or when I'll be able to live a peaceful life. It feels right to hope for the best but expect the worst and I’ve grown quite tired of waiting on someone to rescue me.” 

“I’m sorry you feel this way too.” 

“Thank you. I didn’t know my parents growing up and I lived far from the city life up until I was sixteen. I feel like I pretend to be somebody I’m not to keep my sanity intact on most days. It’s almost like I’ll combust if I face the truth.” 

“Makes you feel like a machine, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah. It feels like I have no personality and that my opinion doesn’t matter.” 

“My colleagues make me feel like I have no voice, either. If I don’t follow the rules the way it’s written to get a job done, then I fail, even if I secure success for my client. Do you ever feel like that?” 

Sunghoon watches you nod with a tired laugh. “All the time. Individuality doesn’t matter if you’re doing something to serve the purpose of the ‘greater’ good. What matters is if everyone acts accordingly.” 

“It’s a fucked up world we live in, Y/N, let me tell you that.” 

“I guess I’m starting to realize just how unhappy I’ve been lately. Sometimes it feels like I’m not meant to amount to anything if it’s not to make other people happy by overextending myself.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sunghoon says, knocking his knee with yours. “I’m sure you’re amazing.” He watches you bite your lip to keep from smiling. 

“I bet you’re amazing too, Sunghoon.” 

“I don’t want to be somebody who follows orders all the time, especially when I don’t believe in them. My boss is somebody who has no values as long as money comes pouring in. He gave me a box of documents to process a few months ago. It had a thumb drive with digital records but none of them made any sense because it didn’t match the payroll for anyone in the company. I tried to look into it on my own but nothing on that drive made any sense when I compared it to financial records we keep for transparency purposes.” 

Sunghoon watches your eyes snap to him. “Financial records?” 

He nods. “All the names were people who worked for the company but none of the paystubs matched what we keep on file. I think he must’ve given it to me by accident because he came back a week later and asked to look at the box.”

“What happened next?” 

“Something felt off about these records so I took a spare thumb drive from the office supply room and put it in that box.” 

“What did you do with the actual thumb drive?” 

Sunghoon purses his lips. “It’s in my bedroom. I haven’t looked at it since that day because I’m worried that the higher-ups will trace company property back to my personal laptop. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I probably should’ve given it back to my boss, but my gut was telling me something was wrong.” 

You look at him with curiosity and Sunghoon can’t fathom why you must be interested. He’s even more perplexed when he sees you sitting like you haven’t taken a sip of alcohol on an empty stomach, body planted to the ground. He’s impressed with how you aren’t rocking from side to side like he is. His body feels like it’s fidgeting where he sits and he feels his head spinning with the growing silence between the both of you. You must have a high alcohol tolerance. 

“Well anyway,” Sunghoon says while clearing his throat, attempting to dissolve the tension. “I don’t think I’ll be in trouble if no one notices it’s missing. I’ll probably forget about it tomorrow morning or fess up and give it to my boss when I go into work next week.” 

“You should probably keep it a secret until you’re ready to provide evidence.” 

He tilts his head and looks at you. “Yeah…You’re right. I’ve never told anyone this before. It’s been a secret I’ve kept for so long but I can’t trust anyone.” 

“And you feel like you can trust me?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “You seem loyal. That, and I’m really drunk.” 

“I don’t know about you, but my head feels like it’s spinning.”

“Y/N, you look completely sober right now.” 

You laugh, the kind of laughter that comes from deep within until it bounces against Sunghoon’s walls until you’re covering your mouth with embarrassment. He wouldn’t mind hearing that again. 

“Believe me, I’m pretty drunk. I just conceal it well.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sunghoon teases. “I thought I was drinking alone.” 

You shake your head. “If you need a drinking buddy any time soon, you know where I live.”

“Yeah? You’d be down to do this again?” He watches you tilt your head with a smile he can’t quite decipher, but it hits him right in the chest and the alcohol in his body starts to make his neck feel warm. 

“I would love that,” you say. “I can bring the alcohol next time.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Things are going well. Too well. Sunghoon can see the sun’s departure as he makes his exit from his office and down to the lobby, where the sky is turning a shade of purple. The car ride home is even more beautiful, so much so that Sunghoon doesn’t mind getting stuck in a spot of traffic on his way home. For the first time in a while, he’s had a good work day.

He thinks back to the night you were in his apartment and the excitement of a budding crush comes back to him all over again. Through his own glossy, alcohol-fueled eyes, he swears you might’ve been flirting with him when you suggested spending time with him in his apartment again. Sunghoon wonders if he’s your every waking thought like you are to him. He then wonders if he should’ve asked for your phone number before you said goodnight and retreated to your apartment. 

Despite this thought, Sunghoon reckons that he’s buzzing from the excitement of getting off of work early. There’s still time for him to engage in whatever he wants to do to unwind after work. He plans on taking extra time to cook himself a big dinner and maybe catch an episode or two of the anime he’s been meaning to finish. When he’s sure you’re back in your apartment, Sunghoon considers asking if you’d be up to hanging out.

He grips his briefcase as he steps into the elevator on his way up to his apartment with a hop in his step. Sunghoon loosens his tie around his neck with his free hand and pushes his clear specks up the bridge of his nose as the elevator door opens. It’s only when he’s about to fish for his keys does he notice your apartment door slightly ajar. 

Your lights are turned off. Sunghoon’s arm is still in his pocket as he reaches for his keys and the metal grows warmer as he holds it in his palm. He stands before his own door, a feeling of uncertainty ringing in his ears as he beholds the unusual sight before him. For the months that you’ve lived next to him, you have never been careless enough to leave your apartment unlocked and available to anyone who might be curious enough to enter. Your door being unlocked makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

But Sunghoon tries to rationalize with himself. You could be in your apartment with the assumption that you closed your door when you didn’t. Maybe you were in too much of a rush to get to work and didn’t take the time to close your door properly. Surely even an astute and organized person could slip up from time to time, right? 

Or, maybe something is terribly wrong. Maybe you’re in need of help and can’t reach your phone. Sunghoon’s mind runs through a million scenarios, none of which make him feel any better about knowing your door is unlocked. He can partially see inside of it but he can’t see anything else inside. Sunghoon can’t see nor hear you moving in your apartment. Something must be wrong.

Fighting the comfort to dismiss it and retreat back into his apartment, Sunghoon grips his briefcase and shoves his keys back into the depths of his pocket. He takes a careful step forward and feels his balance faltering, wondering if you really did forget to lock the door on your way to work. Still, he thinks it’s better to check if you’re okay before closing your door and telling you about it when you come home. Slowly, Sunghoon uses his free hand to open the door slightly. He pushes his head in and takes a look around but sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Y/N?” he calls out, opening the door enough to let his body through. “Are you in here?” 

Sunghoon talks into your apartment and peers around the corner by the hallway when he feels arms around his neck. 

His life flashes before his eyes when he realizes he isn’t alone. The arms around his body feel far too big and muscular to be yours. Sunghoon tries to hit the stranger with his briefcase, but the angle falters and causes him to drop it onto the floor. He grips the assailant’s arm with his fingers in an attempt to pry them off of him until his own fingers feel close to numb. Sunghoon’s attempts prove futile, however, as the strength of the man overpowers him. He feels his breath constrict while his feet shuffle against the hardwood floor, his own voice sputtering out coughs and nonsensical phrases to get the assailant to let him go. 

A force makes it so both he and the attacker stumble forward. Sunghoon falls to the ground as he coughs to regain his breath now that he’s free from the chokehold he was put in, the sound of violent gasps seeping in the air amongst the chaos behind him. As he coughs, he looks beside him and sees you land a punch to his face. 

You’ve managed to close the door as you dodge the stranger’s attempts to hit and kick your body. You move expertly like you’re dancing at the same frequency, anticipating the assailant’s next move like it’s nothing. It looks like a choreographed sequence with the way you’re maneuvering to block yourself from getting hit while landing punches to the assailant’s chest until you’ve hit a sore spot, kicking the popliteal to make him surrender. 

You waste no time and place the stranger’s neck between your arms. Sunghoon watches as he tries to push you off of him to no avail. He thrashes and pulls at your arm but you don’t relent, choosing to wrap your legs around his back when he stands in an attempt to rid you from his body. Sunghoon moves to where the two of you aren’t to stay from the action. 

Eventually, the assailant manages to back you into a wall until you shout in pain. The small distraction allows the stranger to pull away from your grasp and run towards your window, bracing himself before breaking the glass and making a run for it. 

It’s over as quickly as it began. The sound of glass shattering rings in Sunghoon’s mind as he stares at the shards littered around your floor. He rushes next to you when he notices you walking towards him. Sunghoon watches as you peer out of the window and hastily grabs onto your arm to prevent you from following the assailant out of the window. 

“Are you okay?” you ask when you finally look back at him. He’s got a red patch on his jaw from being knocked in the face by an elbow, but Sunghoon’s doing well with the adrenaline that’s coursing through his veins. It's you he’s worried about.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” Sunghoon lets go of your arm. “What the fuck just happened?”

You talk away from him to turn on the overhead lights to assess the damages to your face on your wall mirror by the door that managed to survive the attack. With a split crack down the middle, you stare at the faint purple bruise on your left cheekbone and the swelling of your bottom lip. Sunghoon watches you from where you stand and uses this opportunity to catch his breath. He watches as you tilt your head to look at your once-bruiseless face, now littered with scratches, and feels an ache in his chest along with confusion. 

When he looks around the room, he’s perplexed to see how empty it is. You have a single loveseat facing towards the door with your television mounted in front of it. You have a single chair and a small dining table and the walls are completely blank with no photos held up by picture frames. The open kitchen is barely functional and it seems like all you have is one of everything–one pot, one pan, one set of utensils, one plate, and one bowl–while the rest of the living room has none of your personality. 

Sunghoon questions all of it. He wonders if this is the reason you’re always in a rush to get inside when he sees you unlocking the door. He thinks back to all the times the two of you have walked together and can’t recall a single time he ever saw anything other than white walls. There’s nothing on your wall except the mirror you’re standing in front of. 

“What the hell just happened, Y/N?” 

You turn to look at him and Sunghoon feels as if you’re trying to tell him something. He’s never seen you look like this before, so hard and controlling. He’s used to your soft laughter and easy eyes, not the sharp daggers in your irises.

“There are very bad people in the world,” you tell him cryptically. “You need to learn how to be more careful with things that aren’t yours.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You turn around and look at Sunghoon, averting your eyes to the mess around you both. He follows your line of sight and hears as you curse underneath your breath. The curtains that have been pulled back flutter in the wind as it starts to pick up, and suddenly the apartment starts to feel much colder because of it. While Sunghoon is visibly panicking, he’s confused as to why you aren’t.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon, but for me to tell you that, I’m going to need you to leave with me.” 

“Leave with you?” he asks, stepping away from the glass shards. “What are you talking about? Why do we need to leave?” 

“Because of that.” You point at the broken window. “Whoever that was will come back and finish the job if you’re not careful. If you want to live, you need to do as I say.”

“Y/N, I know we’ve been neighbors for a few months, but you’re asking me to blindly trust you after someone tried to kill me.”

“He tried to kill us, actually,” you correct. “But I see your point. Don’t leave because you trust me, then. Leave because he knows who you are and where you live, and won’t hesitate to come back.”

Sunghoon gulps. “He’s gonna come back?” You tilt your head and look at him in a way that makes him believe you can sense his confusion. You don’t step closer to him with the fear that he’d attempt to pass through you to get into the safety of his apartment. Instead, you take a deep breath. 

“I’m asking you to value your life and keep living,” you say. “I saved you, Sunghoon. I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and looks away, averting his gaze to the broken window. “I can’t believe someone broke into your apartment and tried to fucking kill you. At least have the decency to act scared.” 

“I’m petrified.” Sunghoon’s eyes are back on you when he hears the upstick in your voice. “But things don’t surprise you when they happen often.” 

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the wind from outside and the tree branches knocking against the window frame. Sunghoon still feels like his ears are ringing and that his veins are pumping with adrenaline as he looks at you with a pained and confused expression. If you’re someone who’s had to fight men twice your size to survive, he doesn’t want to know what would happen to him if he chose to stay behind. He also doesn’t want to think about how your life likely did depend on it at one point or another. 

The crush he’s harbored for you since he first saw you move in makes this whole ordeal that much more confusing. To the untrained eye, you look incapable of jumping into a fist fight nor do you look strong enough to pry a grown man off of another person. The idea of you in his head is unlike the person he sees standing before him. To Sunghoon, you are someone who likes to walk on the slow path, letting life take you wherever it sees fit. He thinks of you as a quiet, unassuming individual who accepted that, like himself, the kind of quiet life you were living was one you’d live for the rest of your life. 

But he’s scared out of his mind when he sees the bruise setting on your face and the way your lips are swelling up. He watches you look around the room before heading into your bedroom, and he wonders what you must be looking for. 

Your bedroom is just as bare and desolate as your living space. A single twin bed faces the door and a small nightstand with an equally small lamp sits beside it. There’s a book in one of the hollow spaces and your closet area is small, tucked away behind a door mirror that serves to cover your hanging clothes. You have nothing on your wall. No photo, no artwork, nothing that could tell Sunghoon anything about you. Sunghoon gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N,” he pleads, voice cracking when he speaks. “What’s going on?” 

You just look at him. “I’m sorry, Sunghoon.” 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? What’s there anything to be sorry about? Someone broke into your apartment and then tried to kill us.” 

Your posture sinks as the weight of reality overcomes your perception. Sunghoon watches as you hold yourself back and averts his eyes when he assumes you’re about to cry to be polite. His heart lurches in his chest and he feels like he might cry too.

“I really need you to trust me.” You sound helpless and he wonders if you feel that way too. “I would never ask you to do something if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Your life is in danger, Sunghoon. I don’t want to see you die.” 

“Woo says I’m going to die?” he asks. Why should I trust you? Who the fuck are you and how do you know how to fight like that?” 

“You need to trust me because there is no one who can protect you from what you witnessed and I’m somebody who can protect you if this happens again.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“That’s the only answer I can give right now.” 

Sunghoon sighs. “You’re asking a lot of me, Y/N.” 

“Fine.” 

Sunghoon watches you pull a backpack from your closet and haphazardly throw in shirts, undergarments, and other items into it. It’s when you pull the vent cover from the wall that Sunghoon starts to panic. You pull out a large ziplock bag with stacks of cash and other items he assumes are credit cards and passports. When you pull a gun from your nightstand and push into your backpack, you look at him. 

“You can stay. But know that I will not come back should anything happen to you or the people you care about.” He doesn’t know if this is a threat or not. But his heart is beating erratically and the thought of being without your help doesn’t make him feel better. 

He doesn’t want to go. He wants to retreat back to his apartment and pretend this never happened. Sunghoon wishes he would’ve ignored that gut feeling in his stomach to check if you were okay and live his life blissfully unaware of what life you must live to attract people who are out to kill you. But thinking like this makes Sunghoon feel guilty because despite your unusual talent for warding off men twice your size and height, he would be damned if something serious happened to you. 

Even so, leaving his life behind feels unfair. The idea of leaving his friend and family behind makes his stomach churn. Will he ever be able to see his friends again? What about his mother, father, and sister? What of them? Will they have to wonder where their son is and deal with the aftermath of not knowing that Sunghoon’s gone missing, let alone why? Sunghoon can’t think of the last time he talked to his family on the phone. His poor sister, too, will have to continue growing up without a brother to protect her. 

But none of that matters if what you say is true. Even if Sunghoon chose not to follow you and remain as clueless about your life as he does now, the chance that he’ll be safe doesn’t seem like a risk worth taking. The strange man still knows where he lives and what he looks like. If what you claim is true, then this man will eventually find Sunghoon and kill him. Whatever “bad” means to you must really be bad if someone was aiming to murder you.  

“Okay,” he says with a trembling voice. “I’ll go with you.” 

“You’re making the right decision,” you explain with your arms gesturing to the space around you. “The life you have…whatever it means to you, it will never be the same. There is a very bad man who works for someone equally worse. They’ll always find you.” 

“I understand, I think.” 

“It’s a lot to ask of you. I know,” you nod. “That man knows what you look like now and will be able to find you no matter where you go.” 

“So that’s it? I just leave?” 

“Well, you’ll need to do some packing first. Do you have a backpack?” 

“I have one I travel with, yes,” Sunghoon says. 

“Good. Let me gather some things and then we’ll head to your place so you can pack.”

As you continue gathering last minute belongings, Sunghoon takes the time to comprehend just how strange this situation is. Why is your apartment so empty? It looks as if no one is supposed to live here, like this space is just temporary. It barely looks like a functioning living space. How do you entertain yourself? If you’re able to afford living in this apartment, how come you don’t have any furniture to fill the space? And what about decorations? Why don’t you have any photos of yourself, your friends, or your family hung up on the walls? 

The harder he thinks, the more his headache returns. You live in isolation to the point where he starts to question everything he knows about you. All of your belongings could fit into the backpack you’re carrying and he wonders if this familiar experience is something you’re running away from. 

Sunghoon can only stare in utter shock as you pull out a plastic bag filled with things he's only seen in movies. More passports, more cash, more credit cards, and what he assumes to be more fake driver’s licenses. Your supply seems endless. Underneath your sink contains knives stashed away in protective bags that you shove into the backpack with one tucked behind you. The way you touch these weapons without flinching scares him. 

He knows he shouldn’t be naive to find normalcy in your actions, even if you look eerily calm and composed. 

“So this is it?” Sunghoon asks when you walk past him, following you to the living room. 

“Mhm,” you mumble, looking at your broken window. He watches as you sigh before you turn all of the lights off and lock the door behind you. 

Walking into the well-lit hallway feels weird. It’s too normal. 

“What should I bring and how much of everything?” he asks after he’s let the both of you inside of his apartment.

“You’ll want to change out of your clothes and get into something more comfortable,” you say, gesturing at his work attire. “Wear comfortable running shoes. Bring as many shirts, pants, and underwear as your backpack can fit. Make sure to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, too. Bring only one jacket. You won’t need more than one. You have fifteen minutes. I’ll wait in the living room.” 

Sunghoon watches your figure disappear down the hall and gets to work immediately, changing out of his suit and into comfortable pants and a t-shirt. He doesn’t bother putting away his suit jacket and slacks. Sunghoon shoves what he assumes to be necessities into his backpack and rummages in his bathroom for things he’ll need until the two of you need to stop to buy the essentials. He feels like he’s got tunnel vision, focusing on the task at hand to prevent himself from losing his mind over the situation he’s found himself in.

But a photo on his nightstand stops him in his tracks. 

It’s a picture of his family and the first time Jay and Jake made the trip to his hometown after graduating college. They’d embarked on a road trip and spent some time in his parents’ house before the week-long adventure of exploring the nearby area before the reality of work and responsibilities sunk in. His father had Sunghoon set up a self timer photo to commemorate the bond between his friends and adulthood before his career would eventually begin in the fall. Sunghoon and his friends sat on the picnic table with their bodies facing the camera as his parents stood around him. His sister held up a peace sign next to Sunghoon. The memory feels distant.

Sunghoon puts the photo down and makes his way back to the living room eventually, forcing himself not to pick up anything that isn’t a necessity. He puts his wallet on the coffee table and you turn around to see his backpack in his hand while he witnesses you looking at the decor on his wall. 

“You have a nice apartment.” 

“Thanks.” 

You pick up his wallet. “Do you have your birth certificate on you? Maybe a passport or any other identification?” 

“Just my passport.” Sunghoon runs back into his room to grab it before handing it to you, then pointing at his computer on the couch. “And my laptop.” 

“We’ll need to bring both of those.” 

“What for?” 

You give him a look that gives him a bad feeling. “We’ll need to destroy them as soon as we can. I can’t have them finding you that easily.”

Sunghoon sighs and grabs his computer. “If it’s for the best.” 

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if it weren’t necessary. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

Sunghoon thinks he hears your voice waver. Choosing to forego any more pleasantries, you allow him to lock his door before beckoning him to give you his keys. 

“I assume we need to get rid of these?” 

“You’re catching on pretty quick,” you say. “We’ll bury these somewhere far from here so no one can find them.” 

“I think the adrenaline is getting to me.” 

You look around his room. “Where’s the thumb drive that your boss gave you?” 

Sunghoon looks at you quizzically. “What?” 

“The thumb drive with financial records on it. Where is it?” 

“In my bedroom. Why are you asking about it?” 

“Bring it with you.” You push Sunghoon back to his room with a little more force than he expected. He stumbles over himself and pulls it out his desk drawer.

“Why is this so important? Why were you asking about it when you were here?” 

“There’s no time to explain right now, but we need to bring it with us and keep it safe. It’s best if I hold onto it.” He’s skeptical. You sigh when you see his expression change into something unpleasant. “Sunghoon, I’m being completely honest with you when I say both of our lives depend on what’s on that thumb drive. If this disappears or if it’s destroyed, we’re both dead.” 

He hesitates but hands you the thumb drive away. Sunghoon looks around his apartment once more, memorizing the sight of the coffee mug on the counter he neglected to wash because he was rushing and the remote that he’d thrown haphazardly on the couch the night before. All of this makes him want to cry. The thought of never returning makes him feel like throwing up.

You lead him out of the building and lock his door with the keys before pocketing them in your pants. He follows you down the stairs to avoid the elevator and assumes you’re leading him down the back route where you don’t have to run into the doorman, who will likely strike a conversation with the both of you and find it odd that you’re rushing out of the building at this hour.

“You’re scaring me with how much you know about what we need to do next,” Sunghoon comments. 

“It comes with the job description,” you explain vaguely. “I was trained to think quickly in these types of situations and what to do if someone tries to kill you in your own home.” 

“Trained?” 

Sunghoon chokes as he looks at you but you’re too busy looking elsewhere to see the shock on his face. It feels like he’s sucking in his breath before you finally turn to look at him.

“Let’s find a secure place before we talk.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you avoid taking the metro. When Sunghoon asks why, you tell him it’s best to keep yourselves from any places that are under heavy surveillance to avoid being tracked. It’s best to keep yourself out of the public eye as much as possible. 

The stillness of the night doesn’t match his erratic heartbeat as he walks through familiar streets that no longer feel like home to him. Every light post feels like there might be someone hiding behind it and every quiet neighborhood makes him feel out of place. Sunghoon wills himself to be calm like you are, but he can’t stop himself from replaying the events of earlier that night in his head.

Who are you? Why do you know so much about being on the run? What kind of life do you live that forces you to be somebody who looks over their shoulder? 

Sunghoon wonders if this is what he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life. He isn’t sure whether he can trust you the way you say he can, but he figures it would be better to take his chances with you and die trying instead of waiting for someone to come and kill him. Even if he has to leave everything he loves behind. 

The two of you don’t walk for very long. Dodging metro lines and public transportation feels like the journey takes forever, but you tell him you’ve only walked for roughly an hour and a half in dead silence. Sunghoon doesn’t dare ask a single question for the fear that you might abandon him. 

Soon after you lead him out of your shared neighborhood, Sunghoon finds himself in a small hostel just on the edge of Seoul with two twin beds across from one another and a small bathroom. He watches as you pay in cash and accept the key to the room from the desk employee without so much as a word. The space isn’t the luxury apartment he’d found himself living in for the past three years, but it’s better than sleeping with one eye open in his own bed where anything could happen. The twin mattress is decent enough but he feels like a giant when he lays down after setting aside his belongings.

You don’t unpack your bag or relax like he thinks you will. Instead, you double check to ensure the door is locked and immediately check the bathroom and living area from top to top, corner to corner. Sunghoon watches you pull a nightstand from the corner. He nearly yelps when you dare step on the small, unsteady piece of furniture. 

“What are you doing?” Sunghoon asks, sitting up on the bed. 

“Checking for any potential listening devices,” you say as you pay him no mind, hand touching the small crevice near the window sill. “I highly doubt it, but you can never be too careful.” 

“You mean bugs? Like those things from the movies?” 

You hum. “Yeah, those are the ones. I need to assess the room before we can talk freely.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think people used those in real life.” 

“People do, unfortunately. You have to look at every inch of the room from floor to ceiling. Check the lights, the phone, the back of any objects like picture frames or wall decor, even underneath the toilet seat. Anything you can reach by hand, so can they.” 

Even though Sunghoon doesn’t know the first thing about you, it feels odd to see you like this. You always look somewhere in between disheveled and put together, but the version he's staring at looks nothing like what he’s used to.

Sunghoon is a man of few words hidden behind a million thoughts. He reserves himself for people he feels comfortable around to play it safe, unleashing his loud and extroverted tendencies when he becomes well-acquainted with certain people. Despite uttering a few sentences to you throughout the time you’ve moved next door, Sunghoon has daydreamed about you plenty. 

When Sunghoon closes his eyes, he swears he can see himself asking you on a date. He can picture you saying yes and wearing an outfit that will make his jaw drop until you become bashful under his stare. He imagines getting to know you well enough that when he drops you off at your apartment door, where the two of you become too reluctant to say goodbye until the evening ends with a kiss. His favorite scenario, though, is picturing you sleeping on his chest. His pillows can only help so much.

Sunghoon can’t pinpoint just why he was so fascinated by you. With a single glance, you turned his world upside down and he thinks he’ll never feel anything like that ever again. 

Deep down, Sunghoon assumes part of his thoughts about you is because you’re a disruption in his mundane, boring life that feels like an endless loop. There was nothing for him to look forward to once his life and career became monotonous. But somehow, your honey-like voice and warm smile intrigued him. You’re an enigma he can’t quite seem to understand. It entices him to unravel who you are and what you could mean to him. 

But none of that matters now. Watching you search the perimeter of the room for listening devices is enough to pull Sunghoon’s head out of the clouds.

“Oh God,” Sunghoon exclaims in a panic, as if the thought of his reality crashes down on him all at once. “My job. What the fuck am I gonna do about my job? My boss will report me missing if I don’t show up two days in a row. Fuck, what do I do?” 

“There’s nothing you can do now,” you tell him. “Going back will only increase the risk of getting hurt. Don’t you understand that?” 

“I can’t just leave my fucking job. I’m responsible for training entry level interns. I have so many unfinished reports due at the end of the week. Fuck! What if they call the police because I haven't shown up? 

You sit next to him. “I understand this is a stressful situation, but your life can never go back to the way it was and we have to roll with the punches as they come. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be too far from Seoul for anyone to find us.” Sunghoon swears he hears a bit of melancholy in your tone. “I’m very sorry:

Somehow, he believes you. “It’s okay. It’s not technically your fault.” 

You don’t meet his eyes. 

“This room is clean, by the way. No audio or video devices.” 

“That’s probably the only good news from today.” 

“We should probably talk about the next steps,” you tell him as you rise from his bed. “We’ll need to get some rest tonight. The hardest part about survival is the first few days and mapping out where we need to go next.” 

“So where do we go?” 

Your shoulders sag. “There might be somebody who can help us. It’s a long shot…but I think if we’re able to reach Jinju in the next few days, then we might be on the right track.”

“Jinju? Why Jinjiu?”

“I have a friend there who might be willing to help us.”

“So why don’t we call them and see if we can crash in the meantime?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem.”

“I’m struggling to keep up.” With pursed lips, you sit on your own bed and face Sunghoon. He watches you tuck your legs underneath yourself until you’re sitting criss-crossed and look down at your lap where you play with your fingers.

“There are people out there who do bad things for a living,” you say. “Really bad things. Worse than whatever imagination your mind can conjure up.” 

Sunghoon’s heart palpitates. “Like what?” You look up at him. 

“Like carrying out a hit.” 

His stomach plummets. 

“Y-You mean to tell me someone was trying to kill you? What for? What sensible reason does anyone have to kill an innocent person?” 

You go back to playing with your fingers. He watches you look at him before biting your cheek and looking at the floor. “There are things in this world many people will never know. Few find out and live to tell the tale. I’m telling you this because I need you to understand me when I tell you things are getting serious, not because I’m trying to hide things from you.”

“Can you at least explain to me what the fuck is going on? Everything you say is cryptic and I know you’re not telling me the whole truth.” 

“There’s a time and place for everything. I promise I’ll tell you everything. You deserve that at the least.” 

“You owe me more than that.”

“I know, Sunghoon. Believe me, I do. But right now your adrenaline is wearing off and neither of us are thinking straight.”

“This is crazy,” he says. “I go to work and come home just to do it over again the next day. I barely have a social life and don’t go out on the weekends as much as my friends want me to. I’m just a normal guy living a normal life. Then, you showed up.”  

Ultimately, Sunghoon knows you’re right. The bright lights of the hostel are suddenly too bright in his vision and they aren’t helping his headache. The mattress he’s sitting on top of suddenly feels too uncomfortable and sharp with the metal springs and rods beneath him. His body is calming down as his breathing returns to a normal rate and his eyes begin to feel heavy. 

He looks at you and finds that you can’t meet his eye. Sunghoon immediately regrets his words and imagines what it must be like for you to carry the weight of knowing someone tried to kill you, coupled with the fact that you have to babysit somebody who has no idea how to fend for his life. Awkwardly, Sunghoon rises from his mattress and mutters about how he’s going to get ready for bed. 

He splashes cold water onto his face to calm his face from the rushing heat creeping up his neck. Sunghoon doesn’t know what to think or how to feel. His bones are starting to feel heavy and his mind is telling him to go back home and pretend everything’s fine. He wants to be wrapped up in a blanket his sister got him for Christmas watching reruns of American television he can barely understand. 

But his gut is telling him to stay with you. He can’t delude himself into thinking his life can go back to the way it was after everything that unfolded. He very well could remain looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life without someone who’s knowledgeable about this side of life. He can’t imagine leaving you without somebody to protect you, even if you seem like you can handle yourself. The least he could do is listen to your orders and follow your instructions until the both of you can live your lives without the fear of imminent danger. These thoughts haunt him as he washes his face and brushes his teeth.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he notices that you’ve changed into sleeping attire and tries to avoid looking at your bare legs when it registers that you’re wearing sleep shorts and a sweater. He feels somewhat remorseful of what could have been if the two of you get to know each other under different circumstances. You brush past him into the bathroom and he can hear the sound of the faucet running when you close the door. 

Everything seems too calm compared to the few hours he spent with you. His ears are no longer ringing and his heartbeat isn’t beating as erratically as before. This is the first time that Sunghoon’s had a few minutes by himself where nothing distracts him from his thoughts. He’s too exhausted to push them away. 

Soon, the two of you are tucked in your respective beds with the moonlight from the window illuminating the shared space. It’s bright enough for Sunghoon to see your figure laying still and facing the wall. You look so meek like this and he wonders how anyone could ever hurt you. He wants to say something, to apologize or thank you for caring about him. 

“I can’t say I’m too sad about leaving my job,” he blurts out. Sunghoon’s about to chastise himself for saying something opposite of what he intended until he hears your bed creaking and looks over to see that you’ve turned to face him. 

“Why’s that?” 

Sunghoon crashes. 

“I’m not happy. I feel like I’m working for nothing and I hate the life I have. People always need me for things and I never get any recognition for the work I do to save everybody’s asses.”

“You sound like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Sunghoon stares at the ceiling. “I haven’t been happy with my life in a long time. My friends tell me I keep fooling myself into thinking I have it all because my job pays well and I live by myself. Total autonomy.”

“But your job keeps you from that freedom.” 

“Yes,” Sunghoon says, exasperated. “It feels like I’m living on someone else’s dime. Everything I do at my job is to make people happy because they tell me what to do. It doesn’t matter if I have my own principles. If it doesn’t align with the people who hire me to do my job, my voice doesn’t matter.” You don’t say anything for a moment but Sunghoon’s too caught up in his own thoughts to think about it. 

“I can’t believe I just admitted that out loud.” 

“Sometimes it takes a stranger to say what you really feel.” 

Sunghoon turns to look at you. “You were always the most unpredictable part of my day.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. You moved into the apartment next to mine and running into you a few times a week kept me on my toes. I don’t know. I guess I saw you as someone I would have potentially befriended. I could at least pretend I was coming home to talk to someone who cared.” 

“That’s…very sweet. You’re a nice person, Sunghoon.” 

He sighs. “I don’t feel that way. I don’t know when I’m gonna see my family and friends again and explain all of this, but I'm starting to get the feeling that they’ll never hear from me and they’ll never know what happened tonight.” 

“You know,” you begin, “a lot of my life was spent moving from place to place and never having anything or anyone to call home. I can’t imagine what it must feel like for you to leave everything behind. For that, I truly am sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault,” Sunghoon says dryly. “Whoever tried to kill you should get a bullet to his head.” He hears you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, well that likely wouldn’t solve our problems.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think that man acted on his own accord. It’s too professional to assume he’s working alone.” 

“You’re saying he’s working with someone else?” 

“Or, he’s working for someone.” 

Sunghoon gulps. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The price of freedom is high. Remember that.” 

“You know, none of this explains how you know what you’re doing. If you know, for that matter.” 

He doesn’t hear you move for a short while and closes his eyes shut. Once again, he’s found himself slipping up and saying things that don't translate well. Too afraid to speak, Sunghoon considers sleeping and dealing with his actions in the morning. 

“I know what I’m doing because I’ve done it before,” you say through the darkness. “When your whole life revolves around survival, you adapt to the best of your ability and do anything to stay alive. I’ve learned a few things from my time on the run so please know that I know what I’m doing.”

“Who are you?” 

The room is silent. 

“Someone you can trust.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Sunghoon’s surprised when you wake him up as the sun rises to vacate the premises. He gets dressed as quickly as he can and he knows you can hear him yawning as he prepares himself for the day ahead of him. After freshening up and a quick breakfast consisting of leftovers from yesterday’s convenience store run, the two of you return the hostel key and leave as quickly as you came.

Sunghoon watches as you destroy his phone and laptop, which ultimately makes his soul wince at his personal items deemed unworthy and unsafe. It makes him feel like this new lifestyle is set in stone and the physical burial of his worldly possessions feels like he’s burying his normalcy and trading it in for life on the run. You bury it in a plot of land somewhere and let him mourn before he’s ready to pack it up and leave. 

The two of you travel on foot again, stopping by another convenience store to grab more water and food for later. The sun isn’t as warm as it was the day prior and Sunghoon’s grateful that he doesn't have to walk under the sweltering heat with all he’s carrying on his shoulders. He doesn’t know where the two of you are headed and prevents himself from asking more unnecessary questions because he’s met with a wall whenever he speaks about the next steps. In the hours he spends with you, he realizes that you barely know what’s to come.

Eventually, the two of you have found refuge at another hostel, miles away from the first one. Sunghoon doesn’t understand the method to your madness. He’s tried to make small conversation and ask you about your expertise, but you shut him down every time. You keep saying that “now” isn’t the right time to explain things to him because you’re too wrapped up in making sure you both manage to live until the next day. He’s starting to think you're not the person he once imagined you to be.

Sunghoon tries his hand at scaling the hostel for any listening devices at your suggestion. He follows you and watches as you inspect the bathroom–behind the toilet bowl, inside of it, in the shower drain, and behind the medicine cabinet–before he takes a stab at the living area. He feels awkward when you watch him but follows your pointers when you notice that he neglected a few spots. 

One thing he realizes about being on the run is that sometimes, it’s very slow and extremely boring. With no phone or laptop to keep himself company, Sunghoon wishes he remembered to pack a book or two before leaving his apartment for good.

Realistically, you tell him it’s better to get as far away from the origin point as possible in the shortest amount of time. To pass the time, Sunghoon asks you questions he thinks are silly, ones that he’s seen movie characters from spy thrillers ask their partners. 

Can we call anyone for help? No. 

How about taking the bus instead of walking? No. 

Is there anyone who can help us get into another country safely and quickly? Probably not.

It seems like you’ve been leaving Sunghoon with more questions than answers. You leave him in the dark, pondering on his own as you try to come up with a plan and he does his best to be patient with you because he can’t imagine having to care for someone who has no idea how to keep himself alive. Sunghoon daydreams about who you must’ve been in order for someone to attempt to kill you when the two of you are traveling. It keeps him occupied and what prevents him from complaining about walking too much. 

Sunghoon pictures you as someone who knows a little too much. Perhaps you stumbled upon a classified piece of information or made a shady deal with bad people in your past life and moved to Seoul to escape. Maybe that’s why you know so much about being on the run. 

He also thinks you might be some sort of spy dabbling in espionage, and the man who assaulted you is someone who works for your arch nemesis. This idea seems silly because it reminds him of a k-drama his sister used to obsess over but he can’t lie when he thinks about how this theory might be the only one that makes sense. 

Even so, Sunghoon comes to the realization that you are truly, utterly alone. 

He wonders if you have any friends or family that you had to leave behind. You know so much about him because he’s been open about his feelings after the startling realization that his life is something he will never return to. But you’ve kept quiet about who you are up until the point where you moved into the apartment next to his. So caught up in his own miseries, Sunghoon neglected to consider that you would have to leave people behind as well. Do you have loved ones in Seoul? Do you get drinks with your colleagues after work? Is there anyone who would notice you missing? 

He falls asleep with these questions ruminating in his own head. 

The next time Sunghoon opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to find you already packing. Like clockwork, the two of you set out on foot again and walk for miles under the sun until you’re farther away from Seoul. There’s a small noodle shop by the newest hostel and he’s more than shocked when you ask if he’s up for eating dinner there. 

The two of you wear masks and a cap to conceal your identities to the best of your abilities. Sunghoon lets you pay for the noodles upon realizing his own wallet is buried in a plot of land somewhere. The money you have was a stash for a rainy day and he’s wondering when it’ll run out. 

“It’s crazy that you think about this stuff,” he says as the waitress hands off his noodles. “I still don’t understand why you insisted on picking this table.” You nudge your head to the window. 

“Being visible from the outside means bad business. Anyone can see in the window and spot you if the lighting is good enough. I chose this table because it’s concealed the most and closest to the door in case we need to make a run for it.” 

“So what, do we just leave without paying if someone comes in and tries to kill us?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” 

“That’s so unethical,” Sunghoon huffs in disbelief.

You laugh into your spoon. “Well that’s the life we have to live now. You learn to put aside your conscience and morals when trying to survive. Neglecting to pay for a meal is a small act of ungratefulness compared to saving your own life.” 

“I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve had to do that.” 

He watches you lament. “I’ve been living like this for a long time, Sunghoon. That's all I know. I can’t afford to think about the what ifs because the future happens quicker than you expect it to. Knowing I get to sleep at the end of the day is the goal, but then I have to worry about what’ll happen when I open my eyes.

“Becoming your neighbor was my first taste of normalcy, in a sense. I still slept with a gun under my pillow and kept my door bolted shut with a cane underneath the handle. Every room in my apartment had a weapon in it should I ever need it.” 

Sunghoon winces. “I’m sorry it came to that.” 

“Me too,” you say, sipping from your spoon. “But that’s my life.” 

“If you hate it so much, why did you choose it?”

You look at him. “I didn’t.” 

“I assume this is a story for another time.” 

“You’re assuming correctly.” 

Sunghoon watches you slurp on your noodles. The soup is splashing inside the bowl and the steam is burning your tongue but you push through it, forcing yourself to chew and suck cool air into your mouth. You seem normal like this and Sunghoon’s heart softens when he thinks about what life would be like if the two of you weren’t on the run. 

“Tell me about yourself.” 

Sunghoon’s taken aback by your sudden question. “Myself?” 

You nod. “Who are you, Sunghoon?” 

It’s a loaded question and one he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. You’ve seldom made conversation in the couple of days since you two have been together, only asking him about the necessary things as they come up. Sunghoon’s the one who initiates small talk and shares what he’s thinking with you when the conversation falls flat. He’s learned to be okay with your silence. 

Hearing you ask him such a question sends him into deep thought. For a moment, Sunghoon imagines that the two of you are on a first date. He pretends you both agree to forego the fanciness of a five-star restaurant in favor of dressing comfortably and having no expectations other than good food and good company. 

You look so innocent in this light, so far removed from a world of danger that Sunghoon nearly deludes himself into thinking this fantasy of his is real. Your cheeks are full of noodles and your body is hunched over the bowl like any normal person would be. He pulls himself back before he could mourn his past. 

“I don’t really know where to begin. I have two parents, a mother and father, and a younger sister. I grew up in Suwon until I moved to Seoul for university. I hate my job and I really want to open a coffee shop one day.”  

“Why a coffee shop?”

“It’s the exact opposite of my life right now,” Sunghoon explains. “I won’t hear telephones ringing or be pulled into budgetary meetings for clients every second of the day. I’ll work for myself. I won’t have to stay later than I want to and I can talk to real people who I’ll actually give a shit about.” 

“That sounds like a really nice dream.”

“I’d probably call it ‘Soul Coffee’ because maybe I’ll have a soul by then,” he says with a short laugh. “I think I’d be happy waking up to work in a place like that instead of in finance. It feels like I’m living the same day over and over again. There’s no variety in my life because everyone expects you to stay later than the typical workday. It’s a shark-eat-shark world there. I’m sick of it. I’m tired of pretending to care about our morally-grey clients. Nothing about it feels…me.”

“Listening to commands is tiring, don’t you think?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’ve read my mind. It’s like I’m a cog in a machine. I serve to benefit high society and make the rich, richer. There’s no morality in what I do. I have to look at the numbers I see pile across my desk everyday and pretend they mean nothing to me. If I start to think about how much money is being used to do ungodly things, I start to lose my mind. 

“None of my clients and colleagues seem to care about anyone but themselves. They compete with each other to see who can make it out on top the fastest without caring about who they hurt. It’s like they’ve lost their humanity.” 

“Survival of the fittest is everybody’s weakness. When the consequence of falling behind is termination, that alone can make people do things against their own will.” 

“They all seem like they’re running on autopilot, like they’re so used to it that they’re numb.” Sunghoon shakes his head. “I always thought I’d do something more creative with my life like photography, or something. I wasn’t too half bad at painting. I considered majoring in fine art but coming home for winter break was enough for me to reconsider that.”

“Why’s that?”

“My father's well connected in finance. He’s respectable and has set a lot of expectations for me. He wouldn’t hear it when I told him I wanted to be a photography major. He said it was nothing compared to having a stable job that you can depend on. It shattered my wellbeing and I knew there was no chance I could ever convince him otherwise.

“Living under your parents’ expectations is difficult. I have a younger sister who’s starting college soon and she wants to become a professional dancer. I can only imagine the conversations she must be having with our parents now. But I guess it’s all for the best, right? I have a good job that pays decently and a roof over my head. I can’t complain, really.”

“You can still mourn the life you could’ve had,” you tell him. “Just because you chose one path, that doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about a future that never was.” 

His eyes flicker to you when he hears an uptick in your voice. You look back with a melancholy gaze that's hard for Sunghoon to figure out. He watches as you divert your eyes from him when silence has passed and he thinks that’s peculiar. 

“I guess so.” 

The two of you finish your meal without a word spoken. He’s done eating just a minute quicker than you do, and patiently waits until you’ve discarded your utensils into the bowl in front of you. Sunghoon wonders if what he said must have made you uncomfortable, but the voice in his head is telling him you know more about what he’s feeling than you let on. 

With your expertise about being on the run and evading assailants, Sunghoon truly begins to wonder what your life must have been like prior to moving next to him. 

You break the silence.

“You’re a very resilient person, Sunghoon. I think your friends and family are very lucky to have you.” 

Sunghoon is speechless. 

“T-Thank you. I hope I can get to know you well enough to say nice things about you too.” 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The two of you decide to make a trip to the only convenience store in town before heading back despite it being farther away from the current hostel. It’s dark outside and even Sunghoon is starting to feel spooked when walking through the dead of night, distant lamp posts illuminating the night sky. He can’t tell what you’re thinking either. Most times, you wear the same expression and remain stoic until it’s time to go to sleep. It’s then Sunghoon can truly see just how tired you are. He wishes he could spearhead the planning to give you some time to rest. 

He learns that you’re resilient too. You push your body to its physical maximum. You’re able to think ahead and prepare everything you need before your head hits the pillow because the next day is never promised. Sunghoon, too, starts to push himself towards his breaking point and only thinks of surviving. 

Sunghoon catches you yawning as you shuffle items into the basket. He offers to hold it for you and picks out items he’s seen you purchase before. The cashier bids you farewell once the tab has been paid. The two of you make the trek back to the hostel under dimly lit lights in the middle of nowhere when you push Sunghoon forward until his face meets the ground below him. 

Already, the sound of a bullet piercing the air interrupts the tranquil atmosphere of the environment. He looks up to see a man inside of a car aiming his gun in his direction and covers your body with his when he realizes the armed stranger is about to take another shot. Sunghoon’s heart rate quickens when the bullet casings fall to the ground beside him. You clutch onto him until you’re able to find leverage and push him off of you to a spot you deem safe enough. 

There’s a single driver; no designated person as a gunman sitting shotgun and you’re sure this is an inexperienced soldier who’s out for blood. If not for the reckless aim, then for the insults he shouts at you when the bullets hit everything but you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon reckons your body is a mixture of adrenaline and strategy from your years of experience. It’s almost as though you move on autopilot and maneuver your way to the safest vantage point. He, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. He’s frozen in his spot and his body feels heavier than it is when you try to pull him to safety. Because of this, the last bullet from the gunman’s device ricochets off of a hard surface behind you and a small fragment of it becomes lodged in your arm. 

You yell in pain and clutch yourself when the metal touches your skin. When the gunman realizes his ammo is depleted, he swerves the car until his headlights blind you. Without a moment’s notice, you grab onto Sunghoon’s sleeve and pull him along with you, running until you see a crevice that’s small enough to fit the two of you. 

You run and run, ducking behind buildings and keeping Sunghoon close to you as you take cover behind dumpsters and other large objects that could shield you from the gunman’s vehicle. Your arm is in immense pain and you can feel your blood start to trickle out of your wound and down your elbow. 

When the gunman ceases his attempts to run after the two of you, you exhale. 

You check to see if the coast is clear and slide down the hard wall behind you until you’re perched upright when you deem it safe enough. The jacket you’re wearing does nothing to shield your arm from the bullet fragment and your skin looks like a bloody massacre when you take it off. 

Sunghoon can only stare at the wound. He’s at a loss for words when he sees your face contort in pain as your head hits the brick wall behind you. The tears pricking at your eyes damage his psyche and he feels utterly helpless. 

He watches you rummage through your backpack and tear off a portion of an unused shirt and as you wrap it around your arm. The blood’s soaking through the grey fabric and it causes him to panic. You aren’t screaming the way Sunghoon wants to. It scares him half to death. 

“Direct pressure on the wound cuts off the blood supply,” you tell him with a huff. He wants to help, but the sight of your blood dripping down your arm and onto the pavement below makes his feet stay planted where they are. Sungoon watches as you pull it tight with your teeth and secure it to the best of your ability. 

“Blood,” Sunghoon stutters. “There’s so much blood. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you immediately refute. “No hospitals. Going to a medical center means I’m documented, Sunghoon. They have to take my name and identification. Maybe yours too. We can’t risk going somewhere with security feeds to avoid being caught.” 

“So what do you propose we do, then? You’re fucking bleeding because you got shot!” 

“It’s just a graze wound,” you say through your teeth. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Where do we go from here?” Sunghoon asks.

“Back to your apartment.”

“But you said it’s dangerous if we go back.”

“It’s less dangerous than going back to our hostel or finding a new one. People who see my arm are going to call the cops and going to a medical center is out of the question. I just need a safe place to fix myself.” 

Sunghoon knows better than to suggest hailing a taxi or using the metro to get back to his apartment. He pushes all morals aside when you instruct him how to hotwire a car from the street when he sees your bloody arm. When he successfully gets the engine to run, you climb into the passenger seat and he’s off retracing his steps to take him back to his apartment as best as he can. 

You try to stay awake. It hurts Sunghoon to hear you gasping in pain with your high-pitched cries when he hits a road bump. From the corner of his eye, he can see you biting your lip to keep your tears at bay as best as you cany. Your head rests against the car door as you watch the lights pass by you and he wonders what you’re thinking right now. For all of your reassurance that this is a normal part of your life, Sunghoon wishes it wasn’t. 

Eventually, Sunghoon finds his way back towards Seoul. As he approaches his former neighborhood, he can’t help but feel displaced. It’s odd to see familiar streets and department stores he frequents after making peace with the fact that he’ll likely never return. The lights that keep each billboard sign on feels foreign after spending days looking at wastelands. Sunghoon never imagined that he’d get the chance to see his old haunts. Not in this lifetime, anyway. 

It’s the dead of night and the lights surrounding the apartment are dimmer than usual. He’s grateful, in a way, because it means you two can get into the building from the back without being detected. Sunghoon leads you up the stairs, leading you by the sleeve of his jacket that he’s letting you wear. It’s soaked with your blood and you’ve had to use the fabric to prevent any more bleeding. He avoids looking at it, hating that you’re in so much pain and that you don’t even show it. 

“Hang on,” Sunghoon says when the two of you approach the door. Your face is growing weaker but he can hear voices coming from inside the room. “I hear someone inside.” 

They’re just loud enough for Sunghoon to recognize them. 

“Shit,” he mutters. “My friends are inside.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, stumbling over your feet to press your forehead against his back. “I need to get in there and fix my arm before I pass out.” 

“Okay,” he says with a final nod before pushing the door open. 

Sunghoon’s guilt and shame wash over him when he sees Jay and Jake sitting inside. They look at him with anger and disappointment flashing across their faces as they see him standing in the threshold of his doorway. They don’t comment on the spattered red blood that’s halfway dry on his sleeve. Seeing his friends look at him with such betrayal makes Sunghoon feel like the worst person in the entire world. 

“What the actual fuck,” Jake speaks, cutting the silence. “Where the fuck have you been, Sunghoon?”

“We’ve been worried sick,” Jay adds. “You’ve been gone for a week. Where the fuck were you and what happened?”

“How did you guys get in here?” Sunghoon asks quizzically. 

“You gave me your spare key.” Jay fishes it out of his pocket and throws it on the counter beside him. “For emergencies, remember? We come in here to see your apartment is a mess. I’d count this as an emergency.” 

“Guys, I can explain–”

“You fucking better!” Jake exclaims, raising his voice a notch. “We were worried sick about you! Didn’t you check your texts? Why didn’t you call us? Are you in trouble?”

“Guys—”

“Cut the shit, Sunghoon. Friends don’t do that to other people, especially when we came here and saw your bedroom. It looks like a storm blew in here.” Jay shakes his head. “What the hell happened to you?” 

Sunghoon tries to apologize amidst the chaos. “You guys, really, I’m sorry–”

“You better be fucking sorry!” Jake shouts back at Sunghoon, who has dared to inch closer to the angry man in front of him. “Sunghoon, I swear to God. We’ve been brothers since college and I’ve been by your side through everything. The least you could have fucking done was let us know that you’re okay and–” 

“All of you better shut up unless you want to deal with me passed out on the floor,” you warn, slamming a gun on the table. It makes a horrendously loud noise that startles all three of them but it’s enough to garner their attention. 

Jake’s eyes are first to see your arm. You’ve taken off Sunghoon’s jacket and discarded it on the chair beside you, revealing the blood-soaked spectacle underneath. He sputters over his words, while Jay remains frozen in his spot. 

“Sunghoon,” you speak, voice heavy with your eyes shut together. “Do you have any alcohol?” 

“I-I have vodka” Sunghoon stutters. He stumbles backwards and grabs all of the bottles he can find.

“Sunghoon,” you say again through broken words and heavy breaths, “can you please get my backpack and the medical kit sashed underneath your touch?” 

“What the fuck?!” Jay exclaims. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Sunghoon answers, putting the backpack on the table in front of you. He pulls out the kit and opens it for you. “Too much attention. We can’t afford that right now.” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Jay retorts. “She’s clearly bleeding out! Y/N needs to see a doctor to get her arm patched up. She’s bleeding all over the fucking table!” 

Jay averts his gaze from Sunghoon when he hears you fish out a needle and thread. The gauze from your kit sits atop the counter and he winces when you peel back the fabric to reveal the wound. 

“Holy shit,” Jake mutters. “How are you still alive?” 

“It’s not fatal,” you explain. “It’s a flesh wound at best. Hurts like hell, but at least the bullet fragment didn’t lodge itself inside of me.” 

“Bullet?” 

“Can you make yourself useful and get me a cup?” 

Jake moves to the kitchen, too afraid of what you’ll do if he doesn’t obey your command. The sight of your bloody arm is enough to make him equal parts sick and panicked. The three boys in front of you are silent as they watch you unpack what you need. The room smells of sweat and iron, but neither of them dare to take their eyes off of your arm. 

“Do you have any spare towels I can use?” you ask Sunghoon. He wordlessly grabs them for you.

“This is crazy,” Jake mutters. 

“It’s about to get crazier,” you mumble, patting the blood on the skin that isn’t damaged. 

“Don’t tell me–”

“Yeah,” you say, unscrewing the top to the vodka bottle and pouring yourself enough liquid to temporarily calm your nerves. The boys watch as you tilt your head back to consume the vodka. “Somebody please put my hair up.” 

“How’s this gonna work?” Jake asks as Sunghoon ties your hair for you.

“Whenever the alcohol starts to kick in, I’m going to use the vodka to disinfect this arm and clear it to the best of my ability,” you explain. “Then, I’m going to stitch myself up.”

“What the fuck.”

“I’ve been in worse situations. I’ll be fine.” 

“You…You’ve done this before?” Jake asks. 

“Too many times to count. Now, I ask that you keep quiet and do as I say unless you want me to pass out. Do you understand?” 

Jay and Jake mumble agreements under their breaths. Sunghoon only nods. 

When you feel your shoulders start to relax, that’s when you force your body upright and grab the vodka again. You’ve done this enough times but the searing pain of alcohol being poured into your wound still hurts. Everybody hears the sound of the liquid dripping onto the floor mixed with your short whimpers of suffering. 

The boys feel helpless as they stare at you cleaning yourself up without assistance. It kills them to sit so immobile as you fight your pain in front of them. Your composure starts to crumble as the alcohol cascades down your arm and everybody is shocked to see you aren’t doubling in pain.

It kills Sunghoon to sit so powerless like he did when you first convinced him to leave with you. He can barely look at the blood spilling from your arm onto his table. His friends try to look away but can’t, eyes glancing back at you every so often. Sunghoon hates seeing you in pain like this and he resents that there’s nothing he can do to help you. He decides that he should look around his apartment for any listening devices in case the assailant comes back to finish the job.

He comes back a while later after searching the entire place, overturning even the smallest piece of decor he owns. His limited experience follows him from room to room, searching for audio devices in unassuming crevices and obvious places. When he feels confident that he did a thorough job, he returns to the living room to find the blood-soaked towels on the table and Jay holding a roll of paper towels. 

“I searched my place,” Sunghoon informs. “There should be no bugs or anything.”

“Bugs?” Jake asks quizzically.

“Audio devices or anything that could be used to listen in on us. You can never be too sure.”

“Good,” you comment weakly. Jay does his best to throw away everything he can in the trash and clean up too. 

The three boys sit in silence once more. Your winces short pained breaths are the only audible sound in the room. Sunghoon looks away every time the needle pierces your skin and wonders how you’ve built up a tolerance to this type of pain. His heart aches when he thinks about you doing this alone. 

“I need to eat or else I’m going to pass out. Do you have anything?” 

“All the food in the fridge is probably rotten by now,” Sunghoon mumbles. “One of us should get some food for tonight.” 

 “I’ll go to the store across the street and get something,” Jake volunteers, his stomach churning from the sight before him.

“Take Jay with you,” he hears you instruct. “From now on, we need to stay in pairs.”

“Sure thing,’ Jay nods. 

The two of them come back in record time. Sunghoon helps you sit upright when you fail to compose yourself and tries not to think anything of it when your head leans on his body. Your mouth quivers like you’re trying to keep yourself from crying in front of him.

Sunghoon opens a few of the packaged foods that his friends had bought, setting it far from where your arm is on the table. He beckons you to open your mouth and feed you flavorful crackers and other dry foods that won’t distract you from stitching yourself up. He feels your lips touch his fingers when he feeds you and Sunghoon feels like his body is on fire. 

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry you have to see this.” 

“So this is why you’ve been gone?” Jay asks Sunghoon. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I guess now’s the best time to explain,” you say after a long beat of silence. “I owe you guys that much.” 

“That would be nice.” Sunghoon glares at his friend but you put your arm on him and shake your head. 

“Maybe we should let her concentrate so she doesn’t injure herself any more than she already is.” 

“Talking distracts me from the pain.” They sit in front of you quietly. Jay anxiously bounces his leg in his seat when you pull the needle through. 

Jake stares at your arm before looking up. “Who are you?” 

“There are a lot of bad people in this world who want to acquire power to the point of being drunk off of it, and there are bad people who carry out orders to ensure this power is transferred from one entity to another.”

“Which one are you?” Sunghoon stands from his seat when Jay looks at you with a hard expression but you shake your head. He backs down, sitting in his seat without a word. 

“The latter,” you say honestly. “I’m an independent contractor, of sorts. I’m somebody who has the physical means to push power in any direction my Command tells me to without question.” 

“Command?” 

“Command is the organization that employs me.”

“None of this makes sense, Y/N. Who are you working for? What line of work puts you in this kind of danger?” 

“I do things that get the job done,” you say, gritting your teeth as you pull a stitch taught. “I fight, steal, and harm anyone who gets in the way of a successful mission. My job is to succeed, Jay. My purpose is to win.” 

“H-Harm?” Jake chokes on his words. 

“By any means necessary.” 

“You’re not serious,” Jay comments. “None of this is real.” 

“All of it is real and it’s my life. It’s all I know and it’s what I grew up with.” 

Jake shakes his head. “All of this is so confusing to me. You’re saying that there’s an organization called ‘Command’ and you’re an independent contractor that carries out orders to complete a job. Just what kind of job do you have?”

“Do you see the state of my arm?” Jake nods. “What I do in my day to day life is serious business. My job changes everyday and there’s nothing I can’t accomplish. I do whatever is necessary to ensure that Command gains as much power and money as possible to keep a balanced order as we know it. I do bad things for bad people. Did, I should say.”

Sunghoon quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

The last stitch stings. You tie it to the best of your ability and clean the wound until you can’t bear to stand the pain anymore. The boys in front of you gawk at you.

“I used to harm people if it meant serving the greater good according to Command.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Sunghoon’s voice quivers and you cast your eyes to the table.

“I think you know.” 

“That guy who broke into your apartment and tried to strangle you to death works for Command too, doesn’t he?” 

“I assume so. I didn’t recognize him but his combat style is similar to mine. I can only assume we come from the same place.” 

“That doesn't explain why he tried to kill you.” 

You shake your head. Sunghoon watches as your eyes become wet as you pat your wound dry, throat constricting from the pain in your arm and within your heart. 

“He didn’t try to kill me. He was trying to kill you.”

“Why me?” 

You speak above a whisper.

“Because I was taking too long.” 

The gears in his head turn as he looks at you from where he sits. Sunghoon feels like the reality around him has shattered into a thousand pieces. He can't seem to stitch back together as he looks between your arm and your face. For the first time since he’s known you, you can’t look him in the eye. 

It clicks for him. 

“Me?” Sunghoon asks incredulously. “You were sent to kill me?” 

You bite your lip. “That thumb drive your boss gave you contains years worth of documented payroll. Your colleagues and investors have been diverting funds from the company into a shell bank account for decades. This portion of money is used by Command to fund our missions and carry out any necessities to ensure anybody who petrays this organization sees the end of their life.” 

“That’s fucking crazy.” Sunghoon stands from his chair and walks around the living room. He looks at you like you’ve shattered his heart, as if the pieces are scattered onto the floor before him. “You tried to kill me?” The crack in his voice brings tears to your eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to. I’ve been like this since I was thirteen and didn’t know any better. If I wanted a roof over my head and food to eat, I needed to work for it. But you, Sunghoon…You are somebody I could never hurt.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to believe that when you lived next door to me for months, waiting for the right time to kill me? What, were you gonna murder me in my sleep?” He runs his hands over his face. “Oh god, were you going to do something to me the night you came over? Is that why you agreed to hang out with me?”

“No!” you exclaim. “You were my daydream too, Sunghoon. You were the most normal part of my life where I didn’t have to think about my fake job as a security guard or mission updates on your wellbeing. You were my friend. You were somebody I wanted to trust.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I-I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve wanted out for so long,” you plead. “I don’t want to live this life anymore. I was sent on this mission with the hopes of acquiring that thumb drive but I don’t give a shit about that anymore. I don’t care about obeying orders. I don’t care about who holds power because only the worst of the worst are the ones who run the show.”

“You’re the worst of the worst!” Sunghoon exclaims. “God, I actually let myself fall for you even though we barely knew each other. I let myself trust you when we were on the run, and now what? Are you gonna rat me out to your Command? Are you going to bring my head on a silver platter to your master?”

“I would never,” you plead, hot, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks and the side of your face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.” 

Sunghoon walks into his bedroom with his back turned to you. Jay and Jake watch as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes and wince at the pain in your arm now that the alcohol is starting to subside. 

“That’s really fucked up, Y/N,” Jake says. “You were going to murder our best friend. How did you think Sunghoon was going to react?” 

You shake your head. “My entire life is order after order. I never make decisions for myself. I don’t live for myself. You have to understand that disobeying orders means you get killed and saving Sunghoon was the biggest risk I have ever taken in my life. It’s the first choice I’ve made for me, not for Command. The person who tried to kill us probably knew I went rogue. There’s a reason why he was shooting at both of us. I’m a target too.” 

“Wait, so someone tried to kill you tonight? For real this time?”

“Yeah, well you’ve hurt me. Congratulations, Y/N.” 

Sunghoon walks into his bedroom with his back turned to you. Jay and Jake watch as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes and wince at the pain in your arm now that the alcohol is starting to subside. 

You nod. “It won’t stop either. They’ll come looking for me and Sunghoon. He’s somebody who saw something he shouldn’t have and I’m a rogue assassin who betrayed her people. My head is on a platter too. The last thing I want to do is see Sunghoon dead.” 

Jay sighs. “This is really hard to believe. You can’t seriously think any of us will trust you after what you just told us.” 

“You have to,” you croak. “I wouldn’t risk my life by betraying Command to save Sunghoon and bring him out of town if I wanted to see him dead.”

“You have a point. But this all seems…far fetched.”

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. I don’t expect either of you to think positively of me or to believe in me. But I’m asking you to trust me if you want to see Sunghoon live. I can’t protect him if he doesn’t want my help.” 

“What makes you think you could protect him? Your arm is damaged and you don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

“I know people,” you tell them. “I have contacts all over the globe for doing favors and spending time in places for months at a time. And in the meantime, I have a friend who might be willing to help us start escaping Korea and find refuge where Command won’t find us.” 

“How do we know this person is trustworthy?” Jake asks. 

“We talk about this life, Heeseung and I,” you explain. “We grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were four and grew up learning how to fight hand-to-hand combat together. He’s seen me bloody and broken far too many times than I can count. You can’t trust many people in this line of business, but he’s saved me too many times for me to not trust him.” 

“This Heeseung person, is he close by?” 

“There’s an abandoned warehouse in the most southern part of Korea. Heeseung was supposed to oversee its demolition but told me he never did in the event that somebody needed refuge. As far as I know, the warehouse is still functional and he still operates from over there.” 

“So, what, are you and Sunghoon going to meet up with Heeseung and life will suddenly be fine?” 

“I don’t know.” You swallow harshly. “But I know that Heeseung is good at fixing wounds and funneling people and hiding. He is the only person I would risk my life to save and I know he’d do the same for me.” 

“You saved Sunghoon’s,” Jay comments. 

You bite your lip. “I would risk my life for him too. He was the first person that made me feel like a human being, like I didn’t have to be ashamed of my flaws or shortcomings. Everyday I imagined a life where we could be friends instead of leading the life that I do. Talking to him made me feel like I finally had the privilege of freedom. But then someone broke into the wrong apartment and involved both of us. I risked my life by saving him and now that Command likely knows I’m on the run with him, they’re out to kill us both.”

“Be honest with us. Are you willing to sacrifice your life to protect Sunghoon?” 

You meet Jay’s eye and answer him without hesitation.

“Yes.” 

“I don’t know if we can really trust you fully,” Jake stars, “but it sounds like you’re in trouble too. Killing Sunghoon now wouldn’t save your life, would it?” 

You shake your head. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.” 

Jay sighs. “Well, it’s not like you could kill any of us with a damaged arm. You should probably get some sleep and disinfect the arm. Sunghoon’s shower is just down the hallway. The towels are in the cabinet beside it.” 

They watch you stand up and bow in a ninety-degree angle despite the pressure it puts on your arm. You stand up to look at them with eyes full of sorrow and regret, the kind that has your lips trembling and eyes watering. 

“For whatever it’s worth, thank you for listening to me.” 

“Yeah, well we needed answers.” 

You let a tear fall. “I’m sorry.” 

“Answer this for me,” Jake asks. “Why did Heeseung keep the facility and what’s he using it for, really?” 

You bite your lip. “I heard through the grapevine that there have been talks about an uprising to take down Command. There are dozens of people like me, people who are tired of being ordered to kill and perform other horrendous acts against humanity. Heeseung and I often talk about abandoning our post but neither one of us had the courage to actually do it.”

“But you did.” 

“After I met Sunghoon, yeah. I’ve never lived in an apartment before. It’s always small hostels or hotels until the job is over, and then I return to base camp where everything feels like a prison. Living next to Sunghoon let me develop a routine where I deluded myself into thinking I could have a future like that someday.”

“So you just…gave up that life?” 

“I suppose so.”

“This uprising,” Jay says, “what’s it going to accomplish?” 

“If done right, then Command will be wiped out of existence. This means no paper or digital trail. All backlogs are demolished and everyone who wants to be free, will be free.”

“That’s a lot to ensure no one targets your back.” 

“There’s only one person who gives out orders,” you explain. “Everyone else are pawns who’ve been kidnapped and bred to become the type of people we are today. Nobody wants to live this lifestyle. Nobody wants to die a killer.” 

“Okay,” Jay says after a moment of silence. “But I think it’s best if you freshen up and get some sleep. 

Jake sighs when he hears the bathroom door close. 

“What are we gonna do? If Y/N hadn’t stitched herself up in front of us, I’d call bullshit and tell Hoon to move out of this building.”

“I don’t know what to feel either,” says Jay. “I don’t trust her because she just told us she was sent to kill him but you saw how well she kept herself together just now. She could’ve killed him and gotten that thumb drive whenever she wanted to.” 

“I don’t trust her either, but she said her life is on the line whether or not Sunghoon is dead. She could’ve done something to him but she hasn’t. I don’t have a good feeling about this.” 

Jay sighs for the umpteenth time. “For now, let’s just try to make sure Sunghoon and Y/N aren’t anywhere near each other tonight. I know she could probably kill us all in our sleep but we would’ve been dead by now if she didn’t trust us.” The two boys look at your gun, which is still sitting on the table. 

“You’re right,” Jake agrees. “She should take Hoon’s guest bedroom and rest up. I can’t imagine how much pain she’s in. You should probably be the one who talks to him, too. He always listens to you.” 

Jay laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stay the night just in case. Lord knows we don’t need those two killing each other.” 

Jake leaves to prepare the guest bedroom and calm his nerves away from the bloody table. Jay walks to Sunghoon’s bedroom door and raps his knuckles against the wood. 

“Hoon, open up,” Jay beckons. “It’s me.” 

It’s quiet for a moment until he hears Sunghoon’s feet shuffling behind the door. 

“If you’re going to tell me to forgive her and move on, forget it.” Jay walks into the room when Sunghoon doesn’t close the door in front of him. 

“I wasn’t going to. You have every right to feel the way you do. I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.” Sunghoon bites back a snarky comment, knowing his anger isn’t redirected at Jay. 

“I feel so fucking betrayed. I feel like my life is over and there’s nothing I can do to get back the time I had. I wish I never met Y/N and I wish I never opened that stupid fucking thumb drive because then I wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“Take is easy, okay?” Jay says. “I know that’s virtually impossible given the circumstances, but there’s nothing you can do right now. Y/N’s in the shower and Jake’s preparing the guest room for her now.” 

“I want this to be over. Or better yet, I just want someone to end my misery.” 

Jay sits next to Sunghoon on his bed, knocking his shoulder against his. “Don’t say that. You’ve survived and gotten this far. It’s only fair that you see it through and make it out alive.”

“But what does that even mean?” Sunghoon asks, exasperated. “The end could be years from now. I don’t even know what I’m fighting for. I can’t stay here long or they’ll find me and murder me. I don’t even know what Y/N’s end goal is. We’ve been running for so long and I didn’t know any of her intentions until tonight.” 

“I can’t speak for her and I won’t because who she is, isn’t someone I’d want in your life,” Jay begins. “But she’s dead whether or not you are. If you die and the mission is complete, her head is still on a platter because she disobeyed her orders. 

“I’m not telling you to trust her because of who she is, but I’m telling you that it seems like she truly doesn’t want you to get hurt. She waited for months to even talk to you and never made a point to involve you in any of this before you disappeared. Y/N told us she has a contact that could potentially help the two of you with your predicament, and that’s the best that I can see for the time being. Part of me thinks she means what she says.”

“What if she’s lying?” 

“No one can be sure of that. But what I know is that it’s late and you look like you haven’t slept in ages. Take a shower once Y/N’s done and get some shut eye. Jake and I will be here when you wake up.”

“I hate that she’s using my shower,” Sunghoon grumbles. 

“What you hate is that you still like her, even after all of this.” 

Sunghoon groans. “Stop reading me. You’re a freak for always being right.” Jay laughs.

“I’m really glad you’re okay. You had us worried sick and we thought we’d never see you again.” Sunghoon opens to talk but Jay shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain anything to me after what we just went through with Y/N and her arm. Get ready for bed and then get some sleep.” 

Jay departs from Sunghoon’s bedroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He can hear the sound of their feet shuffling outside when the impending tiredness overwhelms him unexpectedly. When he’s sure you’re not occupying the bathroom, Sunghoon takes a quick shower and relishes being in his own bathroom with hot water. He lets the steam soak into his skin before drying himself off and brushing his teeth.

Sunghoon chooses to slip underneath the covers in his bedroom. You’re out cold in the guest bedroom next to his while Jay and Jake volunteered to take watching shifts. The only thing he can hear is the soft hum of the wind from outside. It feels peaceful and serene. But this tranquility makes him uncomfortable. He’s starting to understand why you work well under pressure.

As he melts underneath the covers, Sunghoon allows his heavy eyes to close shut. He dreams of nothing. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The smell of sausages brings Sunghoon out of his slumber. Being somewhat well-rested feels foreign to him as he walks out of the bathroom performing his morning routine like any other day. It feels odd to look at himself in his mirror, putting on face products that have sat untouched for a week.

Jake is frying eggs when he walks into the kitchen area while Jay is prepping the bowls and utensils. Sunghoon watches silently as the two work in tandem to prepare gyeran bap with sausage on the side. The scent makes his mouth water. 

“Morning,” Sunghoon croaks. “Is Y/N still sleeping?” 

“Last I checked,” Jay says with a nod. 

“Good. I don’t know if I can face her right now.”

“You’ll need to eventually.” 

“I know.” Sunghoon sits in a chair and slumps over the table, which is significantly cleaner than when he last saw it. “Everything feels too fresh.” 

“Y/N probably feels the same,” Jake says. “She sounds like she wants out of whatever business she finds herself in. I’m not defending her or anything, but you heard her. She grew up in this lifestyle so I can’t imagine how hard it must be to break away from something you’ve always known.”

“Still.” 

Sunghoon eats his breakfast in silence with Jay while Jake volunteers to wake you up and help you with changing your bandages. They’re done eating by the time you emerge and Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to look at you, keeping busy by playing with his fingers. He feels your eyes on him and ignores the guilt that gnaws in his chest when he pretends you aren’t there, eating your breakfast next to him.

“We need to talk about next steps,” Jake says, cutting the tension. “You two obviously can’t stay here since it’ll be a liability for your safety. Hoon, you probably can’t go to your parents’ and neither Jay or I have enough space for you guys in the long run.” 

“Y/N mentioned an abandoned warehouse that was salvaged and is fully operational,” Jay tells Sunghoon. “She knows someone there she trusts that might be able to help you two escape Korea or stay hidden long enough.”

Sunghoon huffs. “Trust. Sure.” 

“It seems like your best bet.” 

“Please Sunghoon,” you beg. “Please choose to continue living.” 

He sighs. “It’s hard to hear you, of all people, say that to me.” 

You nod. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever say anything that will make things better but being on the run is what I’m good at and this isn’t an opportunity we can pass up” 

He looks up at his friends. “So this is it, huh? I’m just…never going to see you guys again?”

Jay and Jake share a look. 

“Well…” Jake draws out, rubbing the back of his next. “Not quite.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re coming with you,” Jay says. 

“What?” Sunghoon says incredulously. “No you’re not. You guys can’t risk your lives just to save mine.”

“Y/N told us about this uprising,” Jay explains, “to take down Command and end this organization for good. I’d be a fool not to be part of it after knowing what they put you through.” 

“Our lives truly mean nothing if we ignore this and pretend people aren’t suffering,” says Jake. “Y/N can’t carry the burden alone.” 

He finally looks at you. “You’re going to take down Command?” 

“I’ll probably die trying, but yes. We can leave Korea but I can’t in good faith leave it here where more people die and suffer every single day.” 

“This person she knows is someone who’s all for the uprising too,” says Jake. “If your next logical step is to hide away in his warehouse until life becomes more quiet, I think we should go too.” 

“You can’t,” Sunghoon says, shaking his head. “You two have lives here, for God’s sake.” 

“None more than you did.” 

He looks at you. “Why are you encouraging them?” 

“I’m not,” you say. “But I know two ambitious people when I see them. If they’re willing to help me with my mission, I’d be stupid to turn them down.” 

“This is batshit. You can't just leave everything behind for me.” 

Jay smiles. “It’s what friends are for, right?” 

He knows there’s no use arguing when his friends are looking at him like they’ve already made up their minds. Sunghoon averts his eyes to see you with your arm slung on the table and then back to his friends, and sighs. 

“Welcome to the team. Let’s pray we don’t die.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

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[obrowne21]

ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

Chapter 2 - “Hates the Perfect Word”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Don’t stay out here too late, Baby.”

Sergeant Ken Lemmons was only partly joking with Baby when he said this to her. However over the three weeks of getting to know the stubborn blonde, he realized it wasn’t so far fetched for her to lose track of time.

And that would be proven correct as Baby was still out on the Airstrip, working away. She found it difficult to leave seeing as the view was so beautiful. The sunset painted the sky a warm orange and pink tone. A calm breeze briefly passed her, ruffling the tall grass, the trees, and even the bottom of her dress as it did so.

Sighing, she found a comfortable spot on a nearby crate. Busying herself by screwing two engine pieces together with a basic rod. The action was done smoothly like muscle memory.

A loud sound of an engine and the screech of tires had broken her peaceful state. Internally rolling her eyes, Baby prepared herself.

That could mean only one thing.

The jeep made a rough stop in front of her causing her to look up at the person responsible for the interruption.

Major John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

Even the thought of his name sparked annoyance in Delilah. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that was so infuriating.

Maybe it was the way he walked around base like he was the king of the world. He had everybody under his spell, especially her brother Gale. She couldn’t understand how the two had ever became friends.

Or maybe it was how he would sometimes get caught looking at her but would never say anything.

It was like a game of tug of war. Always giving her signs of interest but then taking it back as if he physically and mentally couldn’t bring himself to go there with her. Like something was stopping him, more like someone.

She had a pretty good idea of who.

“A little birdy told me you were out here.” Leaning back in his seat, Bucky faced the woman.

Delilah, uninterested, gave him a nod before focusing back onto her work. “Never really liked birds.”

“Sad to hear that. They’re real fascinating creatures. I’m more of a unicorn guy myself-”

“I bet you are.”

After a beat of silence, Delilah glanced up to see him staring at her once again. It could’ve been because she had just rudely interrupted him but by the way the corner of his mouth twitched into his signature smirk made her think differently.

His eyes held nothing but admiration as he kept his gaze on her. The way she smoothly worked away like it was her second nature was wildly attractive. Not to mention the quick wits that shamelessly left her pretty mouth, which instead of feeling insulted he would always feel more amazed by her.

“Gale send you out here?”

“No.”

“So tell me…Major Bucky,” The name rolled off her tongue as a taunt. Placing the tool and engine piece down beside her, she leaned back onto her hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence?”

Bucky watched as she seductively crossed her legs and tilted her head awaiting for an answer. The reminder that she was his best friends little sister kept blaring in the back of his mind. But it was so damn hard to listen to.

“Maybe I just want to be in yours.” Copying her action, Bucky tilted his head. “You ever think of that?”

”It’s hard to when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

He knew exactly what she referring to. Part of it was intentional but at the same time he really never knew how to approach her. Which was odd for him.

John Egan never struggled in talking to women. However he would always overthink with Delilah. She made him nervous, in a good way.

“Can’t say I know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Bucky let out a nervous scoff knowing he had been called out.

The use of the nickname made Baby raise her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a new one.”

“You like it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been called many things, Major Bucky, but sweet has never been one of them.”

“What?” He dropped his jaw dramatically, pretended to be shocked. “You’re the sweetest.”

Bucky watched as she let out an adorable laugh as she threw her head back. A small wave of pride washed over him at the fact that he got her to smile, let alone talk to him for more than five seconds.

“If I’m sweet then you’re a good singer.” She playfully jutted.

“Oh,” He placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me, Baby. I’d have you know I’m an excellent singer.”

“A little birdy told me differently.”

Looking away Bucky chewed away on the piece of gum in his mouth. Damn, she was good.

“If this birdy happens to be tall, boring, and has a head full of blonde hair on his head than you should ignore him and come see for yourself.”

Delilah laughed not taking him seriously. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.” He said. Eyes connecting with her honey brown ones. “There’s a dance, day after tomorrow. Come and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Might skip out on this one.” She declined.

Nodding Bucky looked down. An idea popped into his head that might change her mind. “Huh, guess you Clevens are more alike than you want to admit.”

If there was anything he learned from witnessing the Cleven sibling duo was that they both were complete opposites. Buck was more serious, rule follower, and never really liked to do anything risky.

And although he didn’t talk to Delilah much, he would notice how she liked to do things in an untraditional way. Her presence here as one of the first female mechanics proves that. She also loved to make fun out of most situations. A small joke was always at the tip of her tongue and she could never keep it there.

He’d like to bet she loved to dance too.

Picking up the tool beside her she pointed it at Bucky with an annoyed glare. “Take that back right now.”

Bingo.

“Makes sense.” He shrugged his shoulders innocently. “Guess the ‘never have a good time’ genes got passed down to both of ya.”

“I can have a good time.” She rebutted.

Bucky nodded, not really convinced at all. “Okay.”

A moment of silence passed as Bucky continued to poke fun at Delilah as she thought over his words.

Letting go of her cheek, the one she was anxiously biting, Delilah sighed. “What times the stupid dance?”

A smile of victory took plastered across the Major's face as he mentally celebrated. “I’ll be there at 8:00, that’s when the real party starts.”

“Can’t wait.” She gave him a fake smile.

Taking a look around, they both knew that it was about to get dark soon and should head back.

Reaching over the passenger seat of the Jeep, Bucky propped open the door with one arm. “Hop in, sweetheart. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I have a bike, you know?”

“That old thing?” Simultaneously the two turned to look at the bike leaning on the side of the crate she was sitting on.

“Yeah,” Delilah smiled proudly. It was one of the things she built on her own when she first got here. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“He?”

“Well you men always refer to your cars and planes as woman, so I’d thought I’d return the favor.”

As the blonde continued to admire her piece of work, Bucky’s gaze shifted to her. Taking in her smooth tan skin and pretty freckles that he’d like to individually kiss. And finally her full lips that were just calling his name.

He watched as she grabbed the handles of the bike and easily kicked her leg over to get on it. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby?”

“I’d rather ride a thousand miles on this old thang than one in there with you.”

He was left speechless as she petaled away without a second thought. The fact that her and a Buck were siblings was still a shock to him.

No matter how different the two were they both had something in common. The Clevens had captured John Egans heart. With a Buck it was respect and friendship. And with Delilah.

Oh, Delilah. He hadn’t even got to know her fully yet and she already had him hooked.

Snapping out of his trance he started the engine before catching up and riding along beside her. Now he was back to looking between the road and her pretty side profile.

“Still got you to go to the dance with me.” He gloated.

Once again, John Egan had managed to make her smile. Shaking her head she tried to petal faster but he would just match her speed. “I hate you!”

“Hates a strong word.”

“Hates the perfect word.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N : As y’all can tell I love a good slow burn. Hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts on it please, I love to hear feedback.

ALSO DAYUM YALL REALLY CAME THREW WITH THE LIKES ON MY POSTS

Tag list(I can’t believe I have those now🤭):

@valenftcrush

@justheretoreadthhx

[websterss]

NOBODY BUT YOU — GUILDFORD DUDLEY

REQUESTS: hi! can I request a Guildford x reader where they’re kind of in the same situation as him and Jane, but they’re childhood friends who never knew their parents planned an arranged marriage for them? reader knows he’s ethian and is fully supportive. maybe some angst as they come to terms with the news and then their new marriage, then they slowly realize that maybe they’ve loved each other all along and lots of fluff ensues? please and thank you!💗

WARNING(S): angst, fluff

WORD COUNT: 7,491

PAIRING: Guildford Dudley x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

MASTERLIST

Guildford's and your parents had taken one look at you from the earlier stages of your adolescence and thought to themselves how perfect a match their children were for each other. The pair of you was almost too difficult to ignore since your similarities defined how well you fit together.

Your stubborn natures and wit could only be matched to the extent that you found each other tolerable. That and you both were born under the same full moon. Your mother's ensuring it.

That was why, as you grew up together, they found your bickering more entertaining than annoying. You always sought the other one out if you were hurt or needed someone to talk to.

Guildford’s parents could recall the first time you had run to their home, crying.

You, a tiny thing of eight, had fallen and hurt yourself. Guildford who was also eight at the time had taken one look at you and rushed forward when the garden gate swung open.

You had fallen off the swing at the back of your house. You bellowed in tears, your knee scraped open in the process of your fall. Guildford, who had been practicing with wooden swords in the garden with Stan, dropped them instantly when you came running towards him, and he was instantly by your side, soothing and caring for you. He was tender and gentle as he cleaned the wound and held you in his arms.

"Do you think I'll need to saw it off?" You whimpered.

Guildford felt his heart clench.

“No, it isn't that bad, honest.” He reassured. “But you need to be a lot more careful, I told you we would fix the swing, but you do not listen.”

"I just wanted to soar…"

He smiled gently before continuing to apply ointment to your wound. "You do realize you are a bird? You're able to soar all on your own without the use of a broken swing set."

"Where's the fun in that?" You hiss as he helps you put a cloth over your scrap.

"You're going to get yourself hurt more seriously one day," he muttered with a heavy, dramatic sigh. "You cannot keep doing this and expect me to always be here to pick you up."

"I thought that was the very reason our mothers ensured we were born on the same night. Insistent and prudent for our friendship to flourish."

He glanced up at you, almost shyly, before he looked away again. "Yes, well…" His silence confirmed that you were right. That was exactly what both your mothers had intended. "You still can't use a broken swing set." He continued firmly.

"You have no right to make me." You stick your tongue out at him.

He scoffs, his lip curling in irritation, but also a little bit of amusement. "And yet I've just done it."

"Yes well, you're a horse!" You taunt.

"And you are going to make me throw something at you." He replies threateningly, raising his hand which still has some of the ointment on it. You both know he'll never do it, but you still take a step back, pretending to be intimidated.

It's not till you recreate a whinny of his Ethian form that you're limping off towards the gate that divides your family's lands, or in simpler terms your very backyards.

Guildford's eyes widened as he got up to go after you. He shoves away the rag and pot of ointment carelessly then chases after you. He hates it when you copy the sound of his horse. "Get back here," he demands, though he continues in a calmer tone, "Why must you always do this? You are nowhere near as close sounding to it."

"Cause you hate it!" You huff, calling over your shoulder as you avoid bumping into a rose bush.

"Only because you insist that I sound like a dying horse!" He grabs one of your arms to stop you in your tracks, his fingers wrapping firmly, yet gently around it. With a sharp tug, you were once again facing him. "It is very rude!"

"Oh grow up!"

He lets out a scoff. "Says the pigeon."

You gasp out of his grasp. "I. Am a dove!"

"Do you know the difference between you and a dove?" He asks with a mocking smirk. "I'll make it easy, you're competence." He busted out laughing when you tried for him, swinging your arm in hopes of hitting him in the shoulder.

Though as you swung again, Guildford decided to dodge your weave and watched as you stumbled over your feet into a fall. You yelped as you went tumbling down onto the grass. Guildford reached out last second and fell with you. His hands cradle the back of your head cushioning it. Your eyes widen as he emits a cry of pain himself.

Guildford was breathing heavily as you were now underneath him with his body pressing flat on top of yours, his arms now bracketing either side of your head. He blinked down at you for a second, seemingly unaware of the position you were now in or the fact that the air was suddenly difficult to breathe.

"Guildford your hand…" Your head caught the scrape along his knuckles. The sight of red as you holding your breath. You reached behind your head trying to fight the answer to his injury, and then turned your head to find a medium-sized rock lying where your head would have landed.

He looked down at his hand and the shallow wound that was bleeding, then back to the rock. He felt a pang of guilt when he realized what could have just happened to you. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, his hand coming up instinctively to brush the hair away from your face.

"Yes, but your hand-" You sat up to reach for his wrist, but he pulled away. Going to inspect the back of your head first.

He ignored the sharp stinging sensation and moved you so you were facing away from him. He lifted your hair up, his fingers gently prodding and searching but coming up empty-handed.

"Guildford you're bleeding." You reached back and brought his hand out to face you. "Hey, I'm quite alright." You reassured.

He was almost too focused on you to realize how injured he was, but now he could see the scrapes on his knuckles. They weren't deep at all, but the scrapes had ripped open the skin and the blood was smeared over the back of his hand. He hissed as you inspected his hand further. "I'm fine, it's nothing."

"Guildford, I'm alright." You stop his inner turmoil. cupping the sides of his face now.

He stopped fidgeting and allowed you to hold his head in a firm grip, forcing him to still. He looked at you with wide eyes and he slowly realized how close you were. The way your bodies were pressed against each other. "You almost hit your head."

"But you made sure that I did not."

He continued to gaze at you as he felt the lightness of your breath against his face. The way you were now cradling his face in your hands. He felt something in his chest tighten. He never wanted to picture what could have happened if he did not catch you in time.

His eyes flicked to your lips and the way you were looking at him. "If I was a second too late-"

"No stop it. No more belittling yourself. You saved me from severe injuries and I am forever grateful. Come on now. We need to dress your wounds. The faster we heal the faster we can transform again. Well one of us willingly that is..." You grimace and you pull him up by his good hand.

"How do you manage to always make light of things." He scoffs.

"There is no need to dwell on the horrible 'what ifs', Guildford." You respond with a scoff of your own. "Now come on. Let's clean you up."

-

As you both had reached the prime age of thirteen, well the secret of being Ethian only became a greater priority to ensure remained unknown to strangers. Your marriage to each other was a close second to your parents. Wanting to surprise both of you when the time comes.

It would become a great scandal among the courts in London if word got out that two young members of two noble class families turned out to be part animals. It ruins the chance of one’s positive introduction into upper society.

Luckily for both you and Guildford, you had both managed to keep a relatively low profile. You both had taken extra precautions to keep yourselves from being seen 'transforming', but there were always those close calls.

To name one specifically. Guildford had completely forgotten that you would visit him during one night while a cousin of his was visiting. He practically jumped out of his seat in his room where he heard the familiar chirps and coos. A white, feathered, bird, perched on the edge of his very open window. He damn near screamed when his cousins approached you with curiosity and mischief written over his face.

You, of course, were unaware. At the time, you found this all comical - as you were prone to do - while your bird self preened yourself on the window sill. You were completely at ease. Until of course, you found yourself suddenly gripped in the hands of Guildford's relative.

Guildford's heart plummeted at the call for help you emitted.

"My mother was always quite taken by doves. My father on the other hand never quite saw the fascination, cousin." Cousin Jeffrey admitted. "Let us throw it out the window!"

You were flapping your wings desperately to try and get away. Guildford's heart pounded in his ears. "Stop, Jeffrey!" But cousin Jeffrey paid no mind to him. He was already heading towards the open window and was a little too close for Guildford's comfort.

He had to think of something fast. "Cousin, how about we tie it down with a rock, that way it plummets faster. I believe Bertie knows where we might keep the thread, and there are perfectly good rocks in the garden. You hand he-it over to me as you hurry along."

Cousin Jeffrey paused his movements, his eyes lighting up like he had just discovered a gold mine. "Oh yes! Brillant Cousin!" He shoved you into Guildford's hands, and your struggle stopped at the rough treatment of the transfer. "You hold it firmly, I'll be back shortly." He then slipped out of the door, yelling out for Bertie.

Guildford moved with haste to shut and lock his door. His eyes shut in relief from the close call of his cousin tormenting you. He then hurried to set you on his bed and waited.

Your bird self was still very shaken up from what had just happened. Your wings beat wildly in the air while you hopped around in a small circle in the middle of the bed. What the hell was going on?

Guildford moved over to the bed and gently placed a hand on your back, your feathers were ruffled in fright. "Shhh. Shhh. It's alright now. You're alright. I have you." He spoke softly.

You shook out your feathers and before he knew it, he was met with the all too familiar black and orange hue. You morphed back into your human form.

He paused to glance at you again, noticing how you sat on the bed, your breathing heavy. Your hair was disheveled and your face was flushed in anger and embarrassment. You looked like you were close to tears.

"I know, I know." His hand went to your back once more. The thought of you in the hands of his idiot cousin made Guildford's blood boil. His hand moved to the back of your head and he pulled you into his chest, his other hand wrapping around you in a firm grip.

"You’re fine. He didn’t hurt you. He will never hurt you. I promise. I would never let you meet such a horrid fate."

"No, no, no." You shiver at the thought of his calloused hands holding your precious feathers.

Your shivering and the look on your face only served to make Guildford all the more angry. He held you tight against his chest and let out a scoff. "I'll make him pay for that, I swear it. But for the sake of your secret and mine. I need you to leave!" He gently hauled you up to your feet. Ushering towards the way you entered.

"Guildford, you cannot be serious!" Your eyes widen as he keeps holding you by your shoulders, ushering you backwards.

"I am very serious," He said urgently as, despite your resistance, he moved you closer to the window. "I care about your well-being, more than you have grown to become accustomed to, and I would go to the ends of the earth if anyone so much as Jeffrey puts their hands on you. So for my sake, I need you to leave. Now!" He kept his tone gentle.

"What will you tell him?" You peer over his shoulder, then meet his softened gaze.

"He needs the help of seven tutors, surely I'll think of something. I'll tell him you flew out my hands." His hands now came to your face, his palms cupping your cheeks and he gently but firmly pushed you towards the open window. "He'll believe it."

"Seven?" You looked at him with an incredulous look.

Even in the seriousness of the moment, Guildford couldn't help but let out a scoff. "Unlike you my darling, he had the pleasure of landing head-first on top of a boulder." He said, giving you a light push. "Go!" He breathes out a laugh.

"Glad it wasn't me." You grimace.

"No, you are much too clever for that, and I'm too stubborn to let you be harmed," He responds dryly while pushing you through the window. "Now go. Quickly."

"I'm going!" You hiss as you turn and give him a thankful grin before you turn and twirl out of his window. Your figuration transforms mid-spin into a dove again. You chirp, bidding yourself a goodbye for the evening. Guildford leans against the frame, his shoulders relaxing seeing you soar back home. He had been lost in thought of your secret almost having been discovered he completely disregarded the knocks at his door.

"Cousin. I have fetched the rope and rock. Let us now sink the filthy pigeon." Guildford rolled his eyes as he heard his door hatch rattle. "Cousin, are you there? It is me, your cousin, Jeffrey. Hello?"

-

When you turned eighteen. Guildford took into account just how much your beauty and coy smile had attracted the attention of men interested in courting you. Much to his amusement. Any given chance someone tried to hand you a bouquet of flowers, he'd stomp on them before your very own eyes. Sending each man, if you could even call them that, running off scared.

Guildford couldn't deny the evitable. He'd grown to fall in love with you. And now it seemed he was running short on time, you were of age and your mother was sure to marry you off to the next lad that came from fortune.

Rupert kept Guildford company as the morning went on. His usual brushing and feeding were cut short by Guildford's disinterest in his grooming activities.

Rupert could feel the tension in Guildford's muscles. His usual steady rhythm was a bit more chaotic than normal in his pulse, but his mood was much more brooding.

He could sense his Lord was struggling with something weighing on his mind, and Rupert could only offer his silent support. "What troubles you, my lord?" Rupert cooed softly, patting his side affectionately. "Surely it can't be our dear Y/n. She'll be here soon to stop by for her visit. You did not hear it from me, but I heard Marge tell Bertie that Y/n will bring you carrots." Rupert leaned in closer to whisper to Guildford. Now reaching forward to caress his mane. A weak huff from him had his groomsmen frowning. "The talk about food always brightens your woes…"

It was unusual for Guildford to not even give a flicker of acknowledgment whenever food was brought up. He usually had at least a hint of a twitch of his ears whenever he was anticipating your visit.

Not today, however.

"Guildford!" Your voice bellows through the open stable door. "You're not gonna believe what I've brought for you." Your chipper mood slowly disperses when your skip comes to a halt. You look to Rupert then at Guildford. He shifts his head to the side, avoiding your approach. "What? What have I done?"

You were met with silence from his end, you glanced over to Rupert to gain some answers but he just shrugs, just as confused as you were.

Guildford refused to look at you, he shifted on his hoves as your steps grew closer. "I brought you carrots." You only met with a huff.

"He knows."

"What do you mean?" You were now at his paddock gate, your hands gripping the wood as you tried once more to meet his gaze, but to no avail. Rupert watched on, completely confused.

"He knows about the carrots, my lady."

"And that has been a problem since when?" You frown, now stepping closer to his stall. Guildford lets out another huff.

"I do not know more than I do, which is that our Lord is restless, and troubled."

"Troubled?" You try and get closer to get a better look at his face, but he's keeping a distance from you. Your frown grew more worrisome. "But why? Has something happened?"

"He is upset, that much was certain, but what, I'm afraid, I cannot answer for. I'm sorry my lady."

"No apologies needed, Rupert. You have done everything you can," You offer the other a small smile. Once he was gone and you were alone, your hands gripped the gate again. "Guildford," You murmur, peering into his stall. "Will you please look at me?"

Another huff is emitted from him.

His stubbornness never failed to infuriate you. "What?" You exclaim, your arms crossing over your chest. "Now you're acting like an overgrown child. I was going to greet you with freshly picked carrots, but they are mine now."

Your threat to withhold the carrots you brought had the desired effect. He turned and looked at you, his eyes flicking from your own to the carrots in your bag. If he were human, he could easily be accused of pouting.

You smirk, seeing the way his eyes were fixed on the bag in your hands. "Ah, so you do want the carrots, hm?" You tease, a hand reaching forward to dangle the bag temptingly.

Guildford lets out a huff, lowering his head, clearly displeased. But you knew that he did want the bag of carrots, you could see it in his eyes. He took a few steps closer to your hand, his hot breath ghosting over your arm.

Your smirk grew wider, watching Guildford's approach, he wanted them. "Ah ah, first we need to talk. Tell me, what are you so upset about?" You lower your voice in a more gentle tone. "We will play the guessing game. A whinny for yes, a huff for no. Simple right?" Your hand moved towards his muzzle and gave it a soft rub. "Now...Is this about me?" You say softly, while he remains still, his nostrils fluttering against your touch. "No?" Huff. "Alright not about me...is it about someone else?"

This time he gave a very quick whinny.

"Is it your parents?" Now you had his attention. He leaned against your chest, his head dropping, forcing your free hand to support his weight so he wouldn't knock you back. He huffed once more. "No? Is it about the men that have come? Surely you're not upset about such a thing." You ask worried, and another whinny confirms that you found the answer.

A huff of a response had given him away. Your shoulders drop from the realization settling in. "You're upset over the men..." You state carefully. You step closer to his stall. "What would grant such a reaction?"

Your hand returns to brushing over his face, this time your knuckles brushing softly through his mane. Guildford doesn't move away from the touch this time but remains silent.

"Is it because of how they look at me?" You try again, observing him. He remained still for a moment, before giving a gentle nod "I can reassure you that their attempts of trying to gain my hand in marriage are not working."

"Our friendship is too important to me to waste on some potential husband…Quite frankly the idea of marriage scares me." You breathe out a laugh.

Guildford had seemed to relax as you continued to pet him. He gave a huff as your hand continued to scratch through his mane and down his neck. His head now lying over your shoulder.

"Scared of marriage, you say?" You raise a brow, amused. "Well, my dear Guildford. I don't want to bore you with the specifications. Surely you have better things that heavily neigh upon you." You try good and well to fight back the smile easing onto your face.

Guildford retreats from your pets.

"Ah, back to pouting I see." You sighed, though you were enjoying how stubborn he was being. He was just like an unruly child, you couldn't help but find it endearing. "And here I was about to give you the carrots I brought for you..." You stick your tongue out at him.

-

When 4 years had passed you both had deemed yourselves in the clear of being stuck in a loveless marriage. You were incredibly mistaken when Guildford had burdened you with the news that he was to be in an arranged marriage. Your deepest fears surpassed your mind, turning into a reality. One you didn't want to succumb to and let your troubling insecurities be known to him.

You were even more burdened to allow him the courtesy to tell him that you too were met with such a fate. Your mother had let you know she had gone ahead to rearrange a marriage with a well-suited lord who she had claimed was the perfect match for you. If your heart hadn't already laid its claim on Guildford, you'd have humored her advances.

Now here you were in the meadow late at night, weighing your woes onto Guildford's shoulders. And his own onto yours.

"She can't do this..." You sniffled into your handkerchief. "Your mother can't do this. What good is a marriage if you've never even met the person who you're going to live out the rest of your life with?"

Guildford held you against his chest, his arms tight around you, feeling your body shudder as you fought to keep your sobs quiet. He was no better, just as much a mess as you were, he was struggling to keep his tears at bay now. His chin rested on your head, and he held you closer. "I know," He whispered against your hair. "Believe me, I've tried to deny my father's wishes. But he's refused to hear my protest. I'll get on my knees for your mother if it needs to be done."

"You can't sway her mind, Guildford. Her mind is set, and when it's set-"

"I'll get down on my knees and plead for it." He repeated firmly, his hold on you still tight. "You think I'll let them take you away from me? I mean, why can't she see that our friendship outweighs a forced courtship with some...some-" He clenched his jaw, refusing to imagine it. You with some old haggard, it made him shiver. "This courtship contradicts everything our mothers had set out for us. We were planned to be born on the same night for goodness sake!"

You sit up and turn to face him. "I-I won't do it."

"Neither would I," He responds resolutely, lifting his head to meet your gaze. Your face was flushed, tears streaming down your cheeks. The sight made his heartache. He reached out to wipe away a tear, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "But you're mother will have my head if I don't ensure your return home."

"T-Then we'll leave. I don't need to go back. Let's run away. Somewhere far, somewhere where our mothers won't force us into an arranged courtship."

His expression softened at your words. The thought of spending countless days and hours away from the constraints of their parents and a wedding, was admittedly, appealing, but Guildford shook his head. His hand now resting on your shoulder, "As much as I would love to run away with you, our parents would spare no cost at searching for us." He said in a low voice. "And I am too selfish to be the reason your bond with your parents is severed."

"Guildford please..." You shake your head at his surrender. Why wasn't he trying harder?

"What do you want me to do, Y/n?" Guildford's voice became more raised, and he now was the one who was pleading with you. He stood to his feet, towering over you. "Do we run away, and let our parents tear the country apart looking for us? For all we know, we could be on the run for months, hell, years even. I am more than willing to run if it means a chance to be by your side, but can you survive that type of life? Always on the move, looking over our shoulders. Never able to settle down. Don't ask that of me. I will not allow you to live such a life." He grabbed your face and turned it towards him so he could see you. Your eyes were watery with tears, and he let out a huff of frustration. "W-we can't just run away. We both know it."

"So you'd rather follow through with the courtships arranged for the both of us then?" You stand up slowly.

"Of course, I don't-" Guildford closed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. He was struggling to maintain control over his emotions, his hands clenched by his sides. "No, I don't want that for us. Not in the slightest. But we are expected to wed someone. That was always set in stone. You know this. It's what's expected of us. For our families."

Your single nod, clutching at his heart. "So that's it then…"

"It has to be." Despite his resolve, Guildford couldn't bring himself to look at you. He was too afraid, too afraid to see the hurt, the disappointment, the sadness in your eyes. He didn't want to be the one to bring you pain. He was supposed to be the one to make you smile, to make you laugh, and to cause butterflies to form in your stomach. Not this… not this pain. But if he caved into your wishes, then everything your family worked for would be lost on you if you did leave. He couldn't let you surrender to such a life without your family's support and without the potential chance of becoming a wife and mother.

"I wish to go home now, Guildford." You turn and start making your way back to the trail.

"Y/n, wait-" Guildford stumbles after you, grabbing your wrist gently and yanking you towards him, "Stop… p-please." The desperation was evident in his voice, and he didn't let go of your hand, not this time.

"I wish to go home." Your voice held its firm tone. You yank your arm back.

The coldness of your tone caught him off guard, and he faltered. His grip lessened on your wrist, but it was still enough to keep you in place. You could hear Guildford's ragged breaths as if he was fighting back from completely crumbling apart into pieces, and he sounded broken. You knew that he was struggling to remain calm, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn around and comfort him, not when your heart was shattering before him. "I mean well in this, you know it."

"Maybe…Guildford, I will make the walk alone." You warn, gesturing to make your leave again.

"You will do no such thing." He had reached his breaking point, and he was no longer going to stand by and let you walk away. Guildford pulled you back into his chest, his hands grasping to keep you in place, refusing to let you slip from his grip. "I'll make this right."

You shake away from him. "You can't." You pull out of his grip slower this time. Sparing him one last gaze before you began the way back home. Guildford followed behind you a couple of feet. The both of you surrender to the silence of the evening. No words were spoken, no goodbyes even as you pushed through the door of your home and closed it behind you, leaving him to his thoughts.

Standing at your door, Guildford stood frozen, rooted to the spot. He stared at the door for several seconds, his heart going a thousand miles per hour. He was unable to think clearly with the onslaught of emotions going off inside his head. The image of you closing the door behind you, the sound of it shutting him off from you was enough to force Guildford back into motion, and he turned away from your house, his feet carrying him blindly away from you.

-

You continued to pick at your nailbed as the carriage made its final stop at the church. You peer out the window your mind faltering hearing that you had not heard your mother speak to you. It wasn't until she gently laid her hand on top of your fidgeting ones that you were finally able to snap out of your self-deprecating thoughts. Coming up with ways and scenarios that this evening could go wrong in the blink of an eye.

"My dear...won't you look at me." Your mother's eyes were soft with pity, her smile was one of sincere concern, which you hadn't seen for years now. She looked at you like she had done when you were just a little girl, the look that reminded you she was still your mother, one who loved you. The one who held your best interest at heart.

"Mother…"

"Stop biting your nails, dear." She said in a gentle tone of voice, her slender fingers intertwining with yours and pulling your hand away from your mouth. "You'll make them raw if you keep doing that."

"I'll try my best." You give her a faint smile.

"Good." Her other hand reached out and patted the top of your hair, an almost motherly action, and she let out a sigh. Your mother's eyes scanned over your face looking at the worry and nerves that were settled on your expression, and despite her usually harsh persona, she still cared for your well-being. "You look beautiful."

"Truly? You think so." You wring your hands together. Your eyes were full of hope, wondering if you'd believe the words that would escape her.

"I do. My darling girl…you're radiant. I mean it." She continued to pat the top of your hair, gently running a few locks of hair through her fingers, a small, encouraging smile on her face. "You'll make a beautiful bride."

"Thank you mother…"

"I know how worried you are. I was in your situation once, so I understand." Her hand now moved from your hair and rested instead on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But I can see the strength in you. You'll do wonderfully, my darling."

You can only muster a nod in response. Her eyes shine with further concern.

"Yet something more weighs on your mind?"

"I'm scared..."

"It's a guarantee when getting married." She attempts to jest but sighs when you continue to show the crease between your brows.

"When did you and father fall in love after your wedding?"

Her expression softens considerably, and she lets her hand drop back to her side. Your mother's eyes drift ahead, a faraway expression forming as if she was reliving the memories.

"A year after…but it wasn't by choice," She responds, turning back to look at you. You were so similar to her sometimes it was uncanny. "Your father and I grew to love each other, we had no other option. We couldn't deny what was there between us." She looks back at you. "And even then, it wasn't just love- at least not what you or I would think. But we became familiar with each other, and we grew to know the other's traits and habits and what the other loved and disliked. A mutual bond, if you will, my darling girl, it was more of a–" She paused in thought.

"A friendship."

Her small smile slowly returned, and your mother nodded almost knowingly to your statement.

"Yes," she chuckled. "A friendship, first and foremost. It became the foundation for us to build our love further from there."

"I will hope for such love with my husband too…" You look back out through the window of the carriage. You miss your mother's inner turmoil.

"Darling…" She looked back at you, her hands grasping on yours again. "The man you are to marry is of good stock…he is handsome and comes from a respectable family. He will be a good husband to you and will hopefully give you many children when the time comes."

Her expression faltered, taking on a more pained look as if she was trying to come around to saying something else...but she didn't.

You only nod in response. You release a sigh and knock against the window, signaling to the footmen that you are ready to exit and go inside.

With that, the footmen approached and opened the carriage door, helping you to step out carefully onto the pavement and holding out your hand to help you down safely. Your mother soon followed behind you, her skirts brushing against the cobblestone.

Once you arrived at the entrance of the church she turned to you to fix the veil of your dress and pat down any loose hairs that escaped your braid.

"Any last motherly advice?"

She took a breath to collect herself and glanced up at you. She looked at how similar you were to her. Once upon a time, she had the same worries of being a good wife and mother. Your expectant gaze had caused her to lean forward and press a kiss against your temple. "Know your mother has always meant well."

You nod, her words confusing you more than ever as you are handed off to your father, who is waiting patiently to walk you down the aisle.

Your father looked down at you. The emotions he felt were a mixture of pride, nostalgia, and protectiveness. The memories of you growing up flashed through his mind as he looked down at you and his heart ached. You were no longer his little girl, the same little girl he could scoop up in his arms as he walked you through the orchards.

Taking his arm, the both of you began the walk down the aisle.

The eyes of the congregation followed as you walked down the aisle. You found it difficult at first not to look at anyone in particular, but you finally settled your gaze ahead to the front. The closer you get, the more your heart begins to thump in your chest, beating hard and loud, making it difficult to focus. It was now then that your nerves kicked into overdrive, and all you could do was fixate on putting one step in front of the other. You had dared to let your eyes settle on those of your guest in witness. Your sight had accidentally landed on that of Mr. Dudley, and was that Stan? You had looked around frantically in search of one particular Dudley, but when you didn't find him your heart had settled down in its disappointment once more.

Then, you reached the altar and you were handed off to your soon-to-be husband. Your heart rate had skyrocketed at this point. Your mother had been right. He was handsome, but to your amazement, you were already quite aware of his dashing good looks.

He was tall, that you already knew, and held a charming smile. One you memorized by heart since you were children.

Guildford was stunned into silence. His was positive your face mirrored his expression. One of disbelief, in need of an explanation for this cruel jest. Guildford was your betrothed. As you were his. You both had admitted your inner turmoils to each other, both in the dark. Fearing being separated by an arranged courtship. You could only turn to face your families, your mothers each holding a hand to their lips in hopes of muffling their cries of joy.

Had they planned this from the start? Surely yes.

You wouldn’t put it past them.

You kissed your father on the cheek, releasing his arm from your hold. To him. You would have given him an earful for handing you off to a stranger. You did, though had you known you’d be given off to your dearest friend. You would have thanked your father. You gave off that of a fish out of water. Rendered speechless. Lost for words that your heart wanted to say but your mind withheld.

You ascend the two steps to stand before the church, before Guildford. Your eyes are locked with Guildford’s. He too was at a loss for words but his eyes held your own. Not a trace of regret or guilt or sadness. Just pure contentment, content that it was you and no one else. He prayed it wouldn’t have been anyone but you. Your soon-to-be husband took your hand into his and brought it up to his lips, bestowing a kiss upon the back of it. You breathe out a laugh of disbelief as a smile reaches your eyes.

“Hi.” You whispered with contentment.

“Hi.” He whispers back. Smiles etch onto your faces as the officiant begins.

-

To say trying to navigate your newfound marriage to one another wasn’t awkward would have been a lie. You thought the world of Guildford, had seen him through his highs and lows, and vice versa. If someone had told you, you would get to set your eyes on his shirtless back every day, you’d have labeled them a fool, an absolute baboon.

“You're allowed to look, you know. What is mine is yours now.” Guildford glances over his shoulder as you teetered back and forth on your bare feet. You’d been hesitating to enter your shared bedroom. He was in the middle of undressing when your gaze shied away. “And it's not like you haven’t seen anything you’re unfamiliar with.” He pokes his fun. However, when he fully turns to you, his smile fades as he sees your timid nature. “You’re troubled.” It wasn’t a question.

Your gaze was averted to the floor, your fingers fidgeting and your bottom lip having been chewed on in your nervousness. You were now aware that he was looking at you intently, able to no doubt read your feelings and notice your hesitance.

Your eyes shifted, looking up at him for a fraction of a moment before hastily being returned to the floor again, your heart pounding in your chest as you were still unused to the lack of space between you both. “It's not the same anymore.” Your brows furrow as you curl in on yourself. “Before, there was no courtship between us where looking was considered intimate. Now it is.”

He sighs at your words, the frown on his face deepening further. He could sense your trepidation, and seeing you so hesitant and nervous around him made his heart sink. He couldn’t bear to see you this way.

He stepped towards you, his bare feet silently padding across the wooden floorboards. He reached up and gently took your chin in his hand, coaxing your head into lifting to look at him.

“Who says it wasn’t before?” Guildford steps closer. His hand reaches out as you avert away from his stare. “I've looked, foresay, admired, in all honesty.”

“You have?” Your nervous voice replies, your heart now thudding louder in your chest as you were aware of his proximity, now feeling the heat radiating off his bare chest.

"Yes."

“Guildford–“

“If you, my beautiful wife, find yourself staring because you find me irresistible. Look away, and look with no regrets.”

“But mother once said that looking at your husband a certain way will lead to being bedridden. And I will end up with your child.” Guildford gaped at you for a second before he snapped out of it.

“From now on…do not believe a word that woman says.” Guildford blinked. “Not every occurrence or every look will lead to such a thing. Nor is it terrible either.”

"Guildford…did you know about our courtship? Did you know our mothers would do this, without telling us?"

Guildford’s face fell, now noticing your solemn expression. With a great sigh, he ran the hand not holding your chin upwards, and through his hair. His chest and shoulders rose and fell as he breathed out slowly, giving him time to collect himself before answering you.

“…No. If I had I would have never let you walk through that door upset with me.”

"I'm scared, Guildford. We've never charted waters like this before."

His expression softened again when he saw the anguish on your expression. He reached up and placed his hand against your cheek, gently stroking his thumb across your warm skin.

“I know. I am too.” He whispered, his tone of voice was tender, a tone of voice not even his family had ever heard. They were the whispers meant just for you and you alone. His eyes held a certain vulnerability as he met your gaze. "This is quite honestly all new for me as well. I'm terrified of ruining what we have. I almost did."

"Why couldn't they just tell us? It's simple."

“Our mothers are complicated women as you well know. I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them find entertainment in our frustration. But one thing I know is that their one goal was to keep us together, no matter what. Now we are, and forever will be.”

Guildford then smiled, but it was a smile of sadness rather than anything else. “Our whole lives we’ve feared the day we wouldn't be friends anymore. But now we get to outlive that fear and null its value to us.”

"My mother told me before I had entered the church that she always meant well…"

“Of course, they always mean well, they’re mothers.” Guildford lets out a small chuckle, his hand now sliding from your jaw down your neck and over your shoulder and gently massaging it to calm you.

“My mother told me if I could find it in my heart to forgive her someday. And I believe in it. They always do mean well. Perhaps in their meddling ways."

"I still would have preferred to have known. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't the one standing at the altar."

It was at this point that Guildford allowed the full length of his arm to settle around your waist, gathering you into his strong grip. He pulled you tight against him, his bare skin now pressed against yours, the heat from his bare chest radiating into you through the fabric of your dress.

He then let out a heavy sigh, allowing his head to rest against your forehead, his lips just a hair length away from yours as he responded with a whisper.

“I cannot bear to think what I would have done if it wasn't you at the steps.”

"We don't have to bear the fears any longer. We have each other now."

“We do.” He muttered, his voice low and grave as his grip on your waist only tightened. “For better, for worse.” Guildford lifted his head slightly and tilted it to the side, his gaze fixed on yours before he spoke again. "For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, mine to love and to cherish till death parts us." Your lips meet in a kiss that had been a long time coming. It was passionate but tender. it was intimate and full of love. You found your arms automatically wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss, pressing you closer to him, the final piece sealing your marriage.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Out Of Control (R.R.)

Summary: After years of working for Roman you're finally fed up by the late night calls and verbal abuse. You put Roman in his rightful place.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, humiliation kink, degradation, verbal abuse, dryhumping,

A/N: The stills of Kieran innocently looking up in the actors on actors really wrote this

You were Roman’s first personal assistant. He usually chose to run by himself whereas his siblings had their assistants two steps behind them. He’d joke that they were corporate slaves and you were lucky to be working under him with that knowing smirk on his face. He had a certain aversion to you, something about your presence rubbed him the wrong way. You couldn’t stand him either, always telling yourself it was only temporary while you paid off your loans. Only a year until you finish, you promised yourself. 

Only one more year of being antagonized by Roman. He has this annoying habit of calling you at two or three in the morning, demanding you hand deliver some documents to his penthouse. He threatens to fire you if you don’t comply. Only one more year… twelve more months with that insufferable bastard. You stomp toward the elevator, giving the doorman a nod. He’s all too used to seeing you come in pissed off, steam practically blowing out of your ears. As the door dings open you try to remind yourself to keep calm. Don’t snap at him, he’d probably find pleasure in it. 

“God no, they’re soulless. I think every time they're on their phone they’re spilling company secrets. Shut the fuck up, no- No. Let me fucking talk Jesus christ. I don’t fucking– Fuck you!” he hangs up his phone call, startled seeing you at the entrance. He motions for you to come in, doesn’t even bother to greet you. You huff, handing him the documents then turning away, prepared to leave. 

“Wait,” He says, hand up in the air. You can’t help but roll your eyes, god even his voice was annoying. It was like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Yes?” You respond, voice a little more aggressively than you liked. You wanted to appear collected in front of Roman. Knowing he’d use your weaknesses against you. 

“These are the wrong documents, I asked for 12-15. This– you’re fucking kidding me right?” He scoffs, his anger seeping through the room. 

“Okay,” You nod stiffly, he definitely didn’t ask for twelve through fifteen but you knew how he operated. He’d always try to push your buttons, ask for one thing and then demanding the other. You learned to keep a copy of anything that’s relevant to him at the time. You look through your bag, pulling out the new documents. 

“I also need the documents for the LA contract,” He says, knowing you won’t have those. He hasn’t dealt with the LA branch in almost a year. 

“Right now?” You ask, already knowing how he’s gonna reply. 

“No fuckin’ tomorrow, yes right now. I can’t sit around and wait for you,” He sneers, a facial expression you’re all too familiar with. 

“Give me an hour, need any other document?” You hold your tongue.  

“An hour! What type of assistant are you? Jess would’ve had those documents prepared yesterday. You’re fuckin’ useless, maybe I should fire you,” He taunts, his finger pointed at you. 

“You know what, fuck this! I fucking quit asshole,” You yell at him. Finally at your breaking point, the late night calls, the beratings, the sexual remarks all too much. His eyes widen, not expecting you to snap. You’re always so calm and collected it honestly scared him. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, unable to mask his true feelings. 

“Yeah good riddance,” He gives you a half wave, not looking at you. He pretends to study the documents you handed him, he tries to keep his fear down. Another person in his life gone. 

“No- that’s not how this is gonna work,” You enunciate every word, your anger pushing you forward. The years of holding in your pent up emotions finally spilling out. 

“You’re a selfish fucking brat, you call me at three in the fucking morning for documents I know you won’t fucking read because you’ll make me read them for you. You’re a fucking piece of shit Roman– Worse. You’re worse than a piece of shit, I think somewhere deep down inside you know you’re nothing. You’re just the cowardly little boy of a billionaire. If only another fucking sperm won huh? Maybe they’d be more fucking competent than you,” You deride. 

He looks at you mouth wide open, he’d only ever been spoken to like this by one other person. However, you were more vile and a whole lot less controlled. He notices the way you shake in anger, shit… why was this kind of hot? He clears his throat, trying to drop the documents in his hand on his lap inconspicuously.

“You’re fired, you can leave,” He tries to say in an even tone but his voice cracks a little. You take your time to study him, “No– I’ve taken and taken verbal abuse from you for fucking years now. The least you can do is the same. I’m fired anyway right? Call your security if you’re so scared,” you mock. 

“You are the worst type of human, Roman, for someone who talks about his dick all day he can’t fucking use it. I’ve heard the countless stories of scared little Roman pushing women off of him. If you can’t get hard then maybe stop fucking talking to me about your dick. God even your fucking cock is useless just like you,” You sigh, throwing your hands in the air in frustration. 

“You seem a little obsessed with my cock for someone who doesn’t want to hear about it,” He chuckles to himself. 

“Do you think I’m stupid or that I haven’t noticed? Take the fucking papers off your lap Roman,” You gibe. 

“Is this what you like? Can’t fuck your girlfriends because they don’t tell you how fucking disgusting you are? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man,” You take a few steps closer, hovering above him, your breath coming out in puffs. He sits there dumbfounded, at your confidence. You are right, he’s painfully hard under the papers, precum already spilling in his underwear. You forcefully take the documents out of his hand, throwing them on the table. 

“You like being reminded how you mean nothing to the world? If I killed you right now, you wouldn’t even make an ATN headline,” You snarl, pushing his shoulder into the seat. He pants, unable to form sentences, random syllables spilling out, he seems like he's under a spell. 

“God, what if someone found out hmm? They figured out how the ‘illusive’ Roman Roy likes to be pushed around in bed? That his little dick gets hard at people degrading him?” You push your fingers into his chest. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth open, breath rushing out. 

“Get on the floor,” You command, walking over to sit on his couch. He sits there dumbfounded for a second, blinking in confusion. 

“Are you fucking stupid? Get on the floor right now Roman,” you say more forcefully. He slowly climbs out of the seat, sitting on his knees. He looks down, embarrassed but he can’t fight your command, your voice has him under some sorcery. That familiar cadence in your voice brings him something he craved. 

“Crawl to me, like the disgusting fucking dog you are,” You order, crossing one leg over the other. There is a certain pleasure in watching your annoying boss crawl to you on all fours. His head unable to look up at you as he crowds your leg. He hangs his head in shame, his humiliation seeping in as his cock presses against the zipper on his slacks. He can’t help but shudder at the feeling. 

“Is this what you wanted, hmm?” You say sarcastically. 

“You acted like a spoiled fucking brat so I can treat you like this? If you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked, like a big boy. So tell me, is this what you wanted?” You ridicule. He can’t look up at you, the words stuck in his throat. It feels like he has honey in his mouth. 

“For someone so chatty you sure are quiet now,” You roll your eyes, uncrossing your legs, and leaning forward. You grab his chin in your hand, forcefully pulling him to look at you. His big hazel eyes are watery, he almost looks innocent, but you remember all those times he’s called you nasty names, all his insults. 

“Answer me moron,” You bare your teeth, face centimeters from his. 

“Y-yes,” He sighs, finally maintaining eye contact. 

“‘Yes’ Yes what?” You mock him. 

“Yes, I-I called you here to make you mad,” He admits, his eyebrows furrowing making his face look somehow even more innocent. 

“What did you want to happen Romulus?” You use his full-name knowing it’s only reserved for when his father is really mad at him. It feels foreign in your mouth and yet perfect. You feel powerful as he shivers under your piercing gaze. 

“I- d’know,” He slurs his words, trying to look away from you. His embarrassment hanging heavy as your prod. He truly didn’t know what he wanted… He just wanted to be dominated. You seemed like the perfect person. You were cool and collected with a sea of rage hiding underneath the surface. He was attracted to you the first time he saw you working for Kendall. Something about stealing his brother’s prized possession felt good.

You slip off your shoe, putting it on his couch not caring if it stains it. You press the bottom of your sole to his chest, pushing him deeper onto his knees until his ass hits the floor. 

“God you’re pathetic,” You scoff, looking at his big hazel eyes. You run your foot down his chest, he looks down following your path, you drop it to the bulge in his pants, lightly pressing against it. His breath quickens, eyes closing shut as you start moving your foot back and forth. He tries to ground himself, grabbing onto your calf, his nails digging into your skin. 

“Who said disgusting pieces of shit like you are allowed to touch me?” You push his hands away from you, his eyes opening. 

“Now, what do you want?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest, your foot stops, giving him a chance to think. His mouth opens and closes. 

“I- I– I–” he can’t form a full sentence as you start rubbing him through his slacks again. 

“ ‘I- I–’ Look at you, you’re all stupid already. Your underwear must be a mess, huh? Fucking useless pervert,” You smirk, enjoying the huffs of his breath filling the room. His hands twitching at his side, his cock throbbing at your words, he lets out a little sound. 

“What’s wrong? Already gonna cum? Gonna ruin your pants before you’ve even got your cock in me?” His hands grip the sides of his pants, his hips following your foot. He mewls when you stop, you drop your foot in between his thighs. 

“Be a good pup and get yourself off,” You command. He looks at you a little lost but scoots closer, he takes a tentative buck against your leg. He tilts his head back, eyes shutting at the friction, he can’t help but moan.. 

“Look at you, what would your dad think? What would think seeing his pathetic son humping his assitant’s leg like a fucking dog,” You say. 

“Ye- Yes, be so disappointed,” He moans, he bucks his hips faster, losing himself in the feeling.

“Look at you humping my leg like a bitch in heat. You’re fucking pathetic, you disgust me,” You snarl and it pushes him over the edge. His hips twitch, he bites down on your knee, his cum leaking all over his underwear, as he gasps trying to catch his breath, practically slobbering on your knee and inner thigh. 

“C’mon,” You pull him up by his armpit onto the couch. He’s shaking, this all was too much, his feelings overflowing. 

“Shh.. it’s okay,” You pull him close, rubbing his back as his emotions crash over him like a wave. He rocks himself back and forth in your arms as you soothe him, you pull him onto your lap. He nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing in your scent until he’s calmed down. Isn’t this a bitch? You have to calm him down. You’d feel much differently if this was a scene and he was your sub but he decided to take the difficult route.

“You okay?” You ask, breaking the awkward silence. He doesn’t know what to say, he needed the release, craved it but now that it’s over he’s left with that hole in his heart again. If only you both were different. If you weren’t his assistant and he wasn’t an asshole. 

“Yeah, I’m good. So good,” He scoffs, removing himself from your lap. He doesn’t look at you, walking into his bedroom and changing. After about twenty minutes of waiting you decide to leave, clearly he wasn’t emotionally mature to talk about whatever happened between the two of you. 

To your surprise you get a phone call in the morning, “Where the fuck are you, god you’re so incompetent!” Roman grumbles on the line. His words have no bite now that you know how to put him in his place. 

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons about Anakin and Ahsoka being siblings

When Anakin pisses Ahsoka off she’ll hunt Obi-Wan down and say something along the lines of “I’m gonna kill your son” the first time this happened it shocked Obi-Wan into silence but it didn’t take long for him to put 2 and 2 together 

Not long after Anakin starts copying Ashoka’s little comment but his are more creative so it’s something along the lines of “Imma throw your daughter out the airlock” he mostly does this because it pisses Ahsoka off when he mimics her but it’s also weirdly therapeutic 

Poor Obi-Wan has to deal with both of them ranting at him so it’s pretty common for him to hear the same story twice in one day

On a couple of rare occasions one of the two enters his room to complain just to find the other doing the same thing which usually results in a new fight because “how dare you come in here to do the same thing I’m doing” 

Those fights usually end with Obi-Wan kicking them out to handle their shit he’s usually willing to hear out both of their sides and problem solve but not when they’re fighting just to fight (which happens sometimes) 

Anakin formed this little tik that makes him laugh and confuses the general public and that tik is whenever someone close to him asks him to do something he’ll say no and do it anyway

He only really does this with Rex and Ahsoka (more so Ahsoka) he respects the rest of them too much at first the duo was confused by it but after a while they just took it as a yes and moved on with it 

It usually looked something like this “General your padawan is being stubborn please go check on her” “No” and then Rex would nod or give a small thanks and then move on 

Or “Hey skyguy can we please get ice cream when we’re done with this mission” “No” “Thanks master!!” 

The first time Obi-Wan saw this happen he was flabbergasted and called Anakin rude which made the duo take a step back because they were so used to it

Ahoksa spoke up first asking “What do you mean master?” and when Obi-Wan clarified that rejecting her so abruptly could rightfully be seen as rude the duo shot him confused looks

Anakin tries to clear it up by saying “What are you talking about I said we could get some” and when Obi-Wan again points out that he told her no Anakin responds with something that makes Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out “but she knows I’m saying yes don’t you snips” to which Ashoka agrees

Obi-Wan walked away muttering about padawans giving him gray hairs and putting him in an early grave 

Ahsoka doesn’t know when she started keeping a mental list of the most embarrassing things the boys have done but it becomes a great source of entertainment for her 

Sometimes when Anakin is getting a little too cocky with Padme she’ll say “Hey master remember when you” and the next thing she knows she’s there’s a hand over her mouth and she’s being dragged away

Sometimes when Rex is taunting her a little too much about how “you almost beat me that time squirt maybe the next time or the next or the next” she’ll respond with “do you think the boys wanna know about that time we were walking to the speeder and” and he shuts up fast as hell 

She’s never had to do this to Obi-Wan but Anakin asked her if she remembers any of his embarrassing moments and all she does is nod the 212 swears they’ve never seen their general go as pale as he did that day 

On the rare occasions that Anakin or Ahsoka want to watch something different than the other it usually results in a lot of bickering a lot of “I’m your master and you will listen to me” and “that doesn’t apply here” thrown out 

But Anakin’s favorite thing to throw in Ahsoka’s face is “I was here first” even if he wasn’t and when she points that out he’ll respond with “I meant alive first”

Sometimes Ahsoka will respond with “I was here first” which results in two paths 1. Being her reminding him she was at the temple before him or 2. Her saying she was born first 

The first response usually ends her in a headlock and the second gets a response that people can hear from outside the temple and that’s Anakin yelling at the top of his lungs “That makes no kriffing sense!!” 

This is me projecting a little bit but I think Ahsoka swears like a damn sailor it’s bad enough to catch Anakin off guard and he’s barely better than her bro can and will curse in multiple languages but force forbid Ahsoka says kriff

She’s startled a few “language!” Or “hey”s out of him which shocks both of them more than it should Ahsoka is more startled by the hypocrisy and Anakin is startled because “Oh kriff I’m turning into Obi-Wan”

The funny thing is a lot of people including Obi-Wan blame Anakin for her cussing problem and a few masters even suggest some less than-up-to-code options to fix the problem which causes Anakin to become a little protective 

On nights when Anakin and Ahsoka can’t sleep and sitting in the temple feels like a death sentence they silently go to Anakin’s favorite speeder and just drive 

Sometimes they have somewhere specific in mind but most of the time they drive with no destination in mind sometimes they pick up Rex or Obi-Wan but most nights it’s just the two of them

Sometimes they talk about life and sometimes they sit in complete silence just enjoying each other's company and the shitty music on the radio

The only consistent thing about these trips is they don't go back until both of their eyes are drooping and Anakin can’t safely drive anymore

They never talk about these little excursions unless they’re already on one honestly they don’t even have to ask most times they’ll just walk into each other's rooms share a look and then walk out 

And there's something weirdly comforting about that routine

[noicevibes]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

In advance, I apologize to those who have already seen this post. I’ve had to transfer it to a new blog thanks to a seemingly permanent ban on my former main blog, @niicevibe. So this is just copy & paste from there. Sorry! This is part one of a two-part series, formerly a drabble! This part is sfw, while its eventual part two will not be!

pairing -> diluc x fem!reader

warnings -> minors dni, slightly suggestive at the end; reader is too forward for diluc to handle; not beta'ed.

character mentions -> kaeya, fatui

word count -> 1.46k

In feeling a pair of eyes on him as he worked, and in sensing a knowing smirk coming from the same source, Diluc sighs, lowering a freshly polished glass back down on its rack and turning your way.

“You’re staring again,” he tells you, as if you weren’t aware you’d been doing it.

“Can you blame me?” you ask him from the furthest seat of the bar, leaning your chin into your palm where your elbow rests against the bar rail. “You’re just much too pretty not to be stared at, Master Diluc. Haven’t you looked at your reflection lately?”

Clearing his throat into a gloved hand, you note the catch in his voice, and the slightest pigment of red on the apples of his cheeks, and smile.

“You’re really not used to hearing this kind of thing, are you?” you muse to him, failing to stifle a giggle when he sighs brokenly again. “Hehe.”

“When it’s coming from someone like you, _______? No. Not particularly.”

“Someone like me?” you repeat, feigning being offended by his words by placing an innocently poised hand over your heart. “Whatever do you mean, Master Diluc?”

“I mean, you’ve been hanging around Kaeya too much lately, and it’s somehow translated into you enjoying teasing and taunting those around you.”

“Not everyone,” you disagree. He raises an eyebrow. “Just you.”

“And whatever did I do to deserve such a thing?” You laugh lightly, a breathy sound that makes Diluc turn his attention down to checking on the garnishes – unfortunately for him, they’re all full; nothing to distract himself with or to excuse himself briefly from the bar area.

“Okay, well, perhaps those Fatui jerks staying at Goth’s, too, but they’re such easy targets.” Diluc doesn’t bother to repress a snort of amusement – it’s true, he agrees in his thoughts, they are. “But you’re a smart man, Master Diluc. Surely, you’ve… at least… noticed the difference?”

The difference?

It became a grand habit of sorts, you entering the Angel’s Share on the days he comes in to relieve Charles. He’d always wondered about you– is she stalking me? How in Teyvat does she know when I’m here every time? – until he'd discovered your apartment to sit adjacent to the bar when he’d notice you making your return there from the end of your shift. You’d waved to him once after that, calling his name from your balcony while he bused away empty glasses from the patio tables, something that’d startled him into nearly dropping one that had a sharp, minty fragrance settled in a pool of green at the bottom of it. But he would return an awkward raise of his hand in greeting back, anyway. And from then on, your visits became too ever-present, never ordering an alcoholic beverage, but something sweet while speaking sweetly to its maker from your coveted end stool.

Some days, you would be joined by his brother Kaeya who, after realizing you frequented the bar slightly more often than he did, took it upon himself to rub off on you. On his days at the Angel’s Share, he noticed Kaeya in you, in the way you teased him; another frustrating feat his adoptive brother managed to achieve. Yet somehow, eventually, the effect that it had on him changed. Eventually, the teasing didn’t make him heave his sighs, or have him switch with Charles when maybe, you became too much to handle on top of Kaeya. Eventually, he looked forward to whatever witty comments you threw his way so he could dish his own back, clever enough that they would have you both chuckling from the end of the bar.

So, isn’t it that you’ve become good friends? Or, at the very least, good acquaintances?

“You’ve never shied away from being an honest person, Miss _______,” Diluc finally says, his voice quiet though still audible over the noise circulating through the bar. “It’s one of the many qualities you have that I enjoy. At the very least, you seem to favour me more than most others I’ve seen you interact with.”

Your entire body pauses, lips parting in response to his words.

“What?” he says, eyebrow raised. Frustrated, you aggressively gesture at him, startling the man, from unable to form the words resting on the tip of your tongue until you realize you don’t have a choice.

“Apparently, I haven’t been honest enough,” you gripe, “if that was your reaction.”

“_______—""Because the difference in the way I mess around with the Fatui stationed in Mondstadt versus the way I like to tease you, stationed here in your bar, or on the streets, is that I don’t harbour romantic feelings for the Fatui.”

In the shadows his bangs cast, Diluc’s eyes widen, the red of his irises suddenly burning like the flames he controls. His mouth opens and closes at you like a fish out of water several times, the only sounds escaping him being ones of utter speechlessness and complete shock.

“Diluc…” Face propped up against your hand, your soft smile squished by your palm pressing your cheeks into it, and suddenly, looking at you, Diluc’s cheeks fill with the same shade of rouge as his hair, and once more does he avert his eyes. “I only tease the ones I love.”

Diluc huffs, shaking his head down at the bar top and wearing the smallest of smiles you think you may have ever seen. Content, you polish off the remainder of your non-alcoholic beverage and slide out of the stool, sliding the glass along with you on your way to where Diluc stands, only to abandon it and lean over the counter, unsuspecting to the other regulars. His throat tightens by your closeness, and to combat the pressure building in his chest, he clutches the underneath of the counter, fingers digging painfully hard into the wood in the hopes it would keep him grounded.

“I think I’ve bought enough juice here over the past year to have established myself to you,” you say, speaking quietly enough that the incoming patrons don’t overhear but at a volume that only Diluc could hear you. He swallows. “But if you care to want to reciprocate things, well…” And you chuckle breathily, your warmth hitting his already burning cheek. “You know where I live.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

(i lowkey can't wait to get into writing the part two to this lol.)

[realistically-shifting]

🛶 do you have any DRs that are NOT based on fictional worlds or some type of fame DR or waiting room?

💍 are you married in any of your DRs?

🫶 who is your favorite person in your DR that is NOT an S/O?

🐶 do you have any pets in your DR?

🛶: I do! I’m copy-pasting from another post, but I have a DR where I’m part of a nonbinary idol group called ‘N.B’. The group has five members, ranging in age from 21 to 30, and all of us typically present neutrally but we fluctuate between feminine and masculine too. The five of us work with smaller artists to develop our albums, plus each member has an album dedicated to their personal music preference mixed with pop. We’re globally popular across age groups and genders, and we probably have fan blogs dedicated to the femme and masc versions of ourselves. I haven’t even finished the script yet, but I’m excited. I wonder what this will do for my fear of publicly dancing/singing in my CR.

💍: Generally speaking, I have S/Os that I intend to marry, but I haven’t experienced it yet. That won’t stop me from taking this chance to talk about them though!

In my zombie apocalypse DR, Orion, I originally had 12 wives (and Remus is our husband). I’m not sure if I should add them back to my script atm. I didn’t include all the faceclaims because I don’t remember the t.o.s and I don’t want to be flagged, but-

Carina is a botanist and gardener who takes care of our current greenhouse. She somehow manages to spoil Hana more than I do, and almost all the rest of us spoil Carina too.

Daphne is a MMA trainer with a passion for picking fights with the Helvigs. Felix falls for her taunts quite easily. She keeps all of us in shape and all of us have to be trained by her.

Ivy is a mechanical-electrical engineer and was actually my girlfriend in college before we were separated, thought each other dead, and I met Remus. We were in a band together in college, we both love mechanical-electrical engineering and music.

Circe was a lawyer before the apocalypse, now she’s taking this free time to study more branches of law while we go over what the new society should look like.

Aaliyah is an investigative journalist and radio personality, she also has a radio show. She set it up after the apocalypse, since she had nothing else to lose anyway.

Sylvie is an assassin. Is, not was. But since we don’t really have people we want assassinated, she’s basically retired. When she’s not training or helping Daphne train us, she’s lounging. She can be really intense with her eye contact, but I love that about her.

Valentina was a logistician that’s currently helping to handle our supply distribution. She and her twin brother are typically fighting, but he lives with us because they’re inseparable after what happened during the apocalypse.

Lucia was an architect, now she’s using her education and skills for some urban planning. She loves having something to sip on (as an oral stim, not alcoholism), so she often has a glass in her hand. She’s super giggly and she’s tied with Carina for most spoiled because we can’t seem to help it.

Nadia’s educated and trained as an ethicist, but she prefers beekeeping. Hana prefers it too, since the honeycomb from Nadia’s hives are perfect for her sweet tooth. When she’s smoking, her personality completely flips and she loosens up.

Adele is a general surgeon that would love to not be working, but the Helvigs like putting her to work. Even with super healing, we still need things taken out, aligned, etc.

Jade was a psychologist. She was working towards her own private practice before the apocalypse, now she has her hands full with us. But she’s considering training people to be counselors to take on some of the work.

Yasmin is a political historian that was working as an archivist, books and research are part of her special interests. She’s super easy to get gifts for, since she loves old books and the apocalypse happened and everything.

Other than them, I don’t have solid plans to marry in most of my other DRs. My only other husband would be…

🫶: HANA To be honest? My CR little sister who shows up in about half of my scripts as my little sister. If not her, then Juliet Starling, who is my opposite aesthetic best friend in my Lollipop Chainsaw DR.

🐶: Yeah! Not many, though. In several witch DRs, I have a white Burmese Python named Velvet. She’s just a baby and she’s the sweetest thing. She’s my familiar, so she helps me with my magic, protects me, and we have a psychic connection that allows us to communicate. This is what she looks like at only four months.

I also have a Bernese Mountain dog named Titan. Technically, he used to be Remus’ trained dog, but the hard truth is that he just likes us better lol

Thanks for asking!

[system-comforts]

i’m questioning if i’m a system but i really have no idea? like i have some stuff that might be system-y but it also might be nothing idk.

to preface the next bit i’m not asking you to like. definitively tell me if i’m a system or something obviously !! i just want to get it all off my chest i guess asfjdgk

reasons i feel like i might be a system:

-> i have different “modes” where i sometimes type differently + my gender feels different (like not by a lot, it’s always masc but different microlabels) + i prefer different names and sometimes different pronouns. …take a shot every time i say different lmao (/joke)

-> i definitely dissociate sometimes and i have memory issues that i think go past what’s normal for adhd? (diagnosed)

-> in like 9th-10th grade i split myself into three “parts” (trans guy part (13-14), kind of in suspended animation/asleep all day and sometimes awake/in control at night while i was on tumblr. bigender part (14-15), handled regular life stuff like being around school and family, the “main” one. cis woman part (18) who perpetuated/handled a very unhealthy/traumatic “coping mechanism” we had at the time. only ever in control while we were engaging in the thing she handled. originally i kept her in a locked room the rest of the time, eventually i let her out and after that she’d like hang around taunting us all day.)

reasons i might not be:

-> i always feel like /me/, just a different me sometimes

-> i haven’t talked to/been aware of an actual different part of myself since about 10th or maybe 11th grade. the closest i’ve been is like. feeling like i was nobody/a kind of indistinct mush idk and thinking about me (one specific “mode” of me) as a separate person. but it wasn’t like he was actually there as a tangible presence, i just felt like he existed separately. like when someone else lives in your house but they’re out running errands or something so they’re not currently there if that makes sense?

-> like i said, i have a tendency to kinda just steal personality traits from characters i like. right now i’m in. i’ll say sunshine mode bc i don’t wanna put one of my actual names on here. but suffice to say it’s a similar personality to a “golden retriever” character i’m fixated on

-> i also tend to kinda steal personality traits from people i’m around a lot and one of the friends i’m spending a lot of time with rn is a system so i could be unconsciously copying him

-> the dissociation and memory issues could just be from my depression

Hey there anon, we're glad you felt you could vent about all this to us. We also appreciate the preface, since it's definitely true. It seems like you've been considering this question for a while and put in a lot of thought. What you sent made me think of a few questions. Although I can't say yes or no, I hope some of these questions can give you more food for thought.

Experiencing dissociation, especially more than typical for people or for a disorder, is definitely something to consider when questioning plurality. I would be curious, are there certain times or situations where dissociation happens more or less? Are there certain times or situations when memory loss is more likely? How much and what kind of things can you remember? Skills? Personal facts?

During these different modes, when you prefer different names and pronouns, and type differently, what else is different? Perspectives on the world? Values and beliefs? General interests and tastes? These sorts of things may not change as much, or may change more slowly, for someone who isn't plural. However, this may also be different for young people, who are still finding and building their identity. The sense of feeling "like me, just a different me sometimes" could be from plurality, from other disorders (ex masking), or even just a feeling of being young and growing. I would talk with others in different communities, talk with peers, systems, other neurodivergences. Talk about this feeling, see what they say, and try to find what resonates most with you.

Can you listen to these different parts? Perhaps not direct communication, but do you feel an "foreign" impulses, persistent thoughts that seem to come from nowhere or not yourself?

As one last question, does viewing yourself as part of a system help you understand yourself? Is it a helpful framework, does it make sense, does it fit? Does it help you learn about yourself, or does it still feel not right or limiting, or does it ignore other important information?

I hope some of this helped. It seems you've been working hard at this, so we wish you luck as you continue to question this. Know that it's ok to not know, and it's ok to explore the system community as you continue to question.

-mod saturn

[abbatoirablaze]

Fire & Ice, Chapter 2

Word Count:  863

“Wait, so you mean to tell me that this girl you met is a mutant?”

Johnny frowned. 

He was trying to tell his sister about you in hopes that she would come with him to the coffee shop and meet you, but all Sue had done was ignore Johnny and lead him into Reed’s lab, where the infamous scientist was entranced at the idea of another mutant out in the open. 

“Reed, she-“

“And no one seems to bat an eye at her?”

Johnny shrugged, “all she’s doing is making coffee, Reed!”

“Johnny from what you’re saying she’s a lot like you, only she controls ice.”

“I guess…”

“Reed, is something wrong?”

“When did you notice her?” Reed asked, stepping forward as he ignored Sue’s question. 

Johnny’s brows furrowed, “why the twenty questions, Reed?”

He shook his head, and started walking back over to the machine that he was working on, “it’s nothing…”

“Reed,” Sue said in a slow voice.  The scientist ignored her as he continued to tinker with the machine, “Reed.  Look at me!”

He guiltily looked up at her and she gasped.

“It’s not what you think, Sue.”

“Please tell me that the ‘blip,’ that we experienced, the one that you created that we had to save the world from a few weeks ago didn’t have any consequences…” Sue hinted. 

Johnny’s eyes widened as he processed what his sister said, “are you saying-NO.  NO!  She can’t be an outcome of whatever freaky science experiment you’ve been doing.  She’s just a normal girl.”

“We should go to the coffee shop,” Reed admitted as he bit his lip, “I can’t be certain until-“

“SHE’S NOT SOME SCIENCE EXPERIMENT, RICHARDS!”

Reed frowned as he noticed Johnny’s clothes slowly developing burn marks and starting to melt. 

“Johnny…”

Johnny looked at his sister, “Sue…sh-she’s just a mutant.  She’s not-“

“TURN THE TV ON!” Ben growled as he walked into the lab, ignoring the previous conversation.”

“What’s going on?” Reed asked, turning towards him, while the other hand extended, grabbed a remote, and turned the television on. 

Johnny’s eyes went wide as he saw you. 

You were down on a busy street, hurtling ice at people, turning them to glistening statues amidst the hot summer afternoon.  Johnny’s jaw dropped. 

Sue gasped. 

“That’s what’s going on!” Ben explained, pointing to the television.

“Johnny,” Sue asked slowly, “i-is that the girl you were just talking about?”

Johnny nodded, the words unable to pass his lips.

“Johnny…”

“They’re going to make me choose, April...I-I can’t do that.  I can’t-“

Your lips pressed against his.  Your eyes closed as you held him tight against yourself, while your power glowed around you. 

“JOHNNY!”

“It’s her or us, Johnny!” Ben growled, ready to throw something at the couple. 

Johnny broke the kiss and pushed you behind himself, “you aren’t going to hurt her.  I won’t let you.  She-“

“She’s a villain, Johnny!” Reed tried to reason, “she’s killed people.”

“I LOVE HER!”

“So that’s it then,” Ben taunted, “just going to go with the murderous, mind-controlling , ice bitch!  She killed your sister, Johnny!”

“It was an accident!” you whimpered while Johnny kept you behind him.

“SUE WAS MY WIFE!” Reed screamed. 

“No matter what, I love you,” you whispered softly, holding onto him, “I love y-“

Your words were cut off by Ben charging at you. 

Reed reached out, grabbing onto Johnny and throwing him in the chamber that measured his temp, while Ben hit you at such a force, you were knocked straight through the glass.

The world seemed to go into slow motion as you fell through the air; the top of the Baxter building feeling further and further away. 

The sky above you lit up, and you knew that Johnny had managed to melt through the chamber, but you were already so close to the ground.  You saw him appear at the window, but Reed was holding him back. 

His deep blue eyes were the last thing you saw.  Your eyes closed and you took a final deep breath. 

But you never met the ground. 

“He tried to save us…”

“I-he-Johnny and I aren’t togeth-“

“It’s a canon event,” your carbon copy said quickly, clutching your own face between your hands.  You winced at the pain from the event, “he found you.  He knows about your powers.  You showed him.”

“I-no one else saw.  I made it so that they weren’t paying attention.  He-“

“He saw you!” she repeated, “Johnny saw you, April!  He’s going to tell his sister.  She’s going to tell Reed and that monster.  They’re going to kill you unless you kill them first.”

“I-I’m not a monster.  I’ve never hurt anyone.  I-“

“Your sister, April…” she reminded you. 

Tears bit at your cheeks and you shook your head, “no…no.  That was an accident.  She-“

“There are no accidents with people like us…they see us as the monster, and they’ll come for us.”

“No…I-“ She pressed her hands to your temples once more and you felt yourself becoming weaker, “wh-what are you doing to me?” 

 “You’ll see,” she whispered softly, “when you wake up, you’ll see just what they do with people like us.”

Tag List:  @designatednewbie, @elbell20-blog, @lohnes16

[pprodsuga]

secrets untold (teaser) | sunghoon

UPDATE: OUT NOW!

summary: ever since sunghoon graduated university, he’s been working the same bothersome job without any real excitement in his life. but when you move into the apartment next to his, sunghoon’s reality is turned upside down and he finds himself running all over korea with you by his side. as he comes to learn, not everything is as it seems.

notes: so eager to get this one out and i'm not usually one for posting teasers, but i just can't help myself. estimated word count north of 20K. to be published soon! x

MASTERLIST + TAGLIST SIGN UP

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Just once does Sunghoon wish for something exciting in his life. 

Day in and day out, he swipes his keycard to enter the lobby of the high-rise building he calls his workplace and locates his secluded office by the back of the floor. His name sits in gold lettering, the prestigious plaque gifted to him upon his promotion a few years prior. Sunghoon’s morning begins by opening his laptop to note all of the reports he has yet to finish from the day before and checks his email for any lingering questions from clients or his co-workers. Despite his diligence, his peers aren’t and he finds himself picking up the slack more often than not. Being a financial analyst was not on Sunghoon’s bucket list of goals to achieve in his twenties. In fact, Sunghoon would rather do almost anything other than look at numbers all day and tell people what to do with them. 

If he had his way, Sunghoon would have chosen a career path less rigorous and numerical-based. He would’ve tried his hand at photography and studied the fine arts to garner a career in the editorial space, or perhaps he would use his time at university to study the history of coffee before opening his own shop in the busy city of Seoul. But his parents had other plans for him, namely to study law, medicine, or finance, and the latter of the three options seemed less boring to him. 

His years of studying lead him here, at Kim Search Group, crunching numbers that mean absolutely nothing to him. 

The glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose become bothersome after an hour of staring at his laptop. His next meeting is in twenty minutes and he’s less than pleased when he realizes his reports are on the docket. The agenda stares back at him in hard, black letters like they’re taunting him. Sunghoon thinks they mock him with the way the cursor hovers over the parts highlighted for his portion of the presentation. Nonetheless, Sunghoon acquires what he needs and heads to the meeting room. 

Everybody arrives early as usual. His boss concludes the opening remarks and lets his employees take the floor. One by one, Sunghoon’s co-workers stand in the front of the room and report their findings and other related topics from the past month. It all sounds the same to him; every person in this room looks like they could be carbon copies of one another with their suits too expensive and cologne too strong. It makes Sunghoon nauseous. Everybody here lives for everyone else instead for themselves, himself included.

“Good work, Park,” his boss tells him on the way out of the meeting room. “I grow impressed by your work ethic and capabilities everyday.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim,” Sunghoon says with a bow.  

“Do you think you can finish the Kang-Yoon reports by tonight? Our clients will be here first thing tomorrow morning to review before they decide on their purchase. I’d love to get them a first draft of their financial report when they come in.” 

With a tight smile, Sunghoon nods. “Sure thing. I’ll email it to you tonight.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Mr. Kim winks. He nudges Sunghoon’s arm like they’re old friends. 

By the time he gets home, it’s nearly nine in the evening. His tie sits loosely around his neck and his suit jacket is thrown haphazardly over his arm with the too-expensive briefcase his father bought him when he had been promoted. Sunghoon can’t help but scoff when he sees the dark brown leather staring back at him. 

Sunghoon lives in a quiet part of town, just on the outskirts of Seoul. His neighbors are either asleep by the time the sun goes down or busy juggling children with muffled laughter echoing in the hallways. Typically, Sunghoon expects to come home and enter his apartment lobby to be greeted by the doorman who wishes him a good night, take the elevator to the third floor, and tidy his living room while trying to undress himself in the meantime. 

Except, you’ve moved into the apartment next to his. 

Now, Sunghoon walks with excitement because he anticipates running into you when he’s on his way up. Sometimes you both arrive at the lobby together. Other times it’s you that he sees unlocking his door when he approaches. It doesn’t matter to him, though. The only good thing about working late on the weekdays is that he gets to run into you when he comes home. 

He quickly learns that you like to keep to yourself. You aren’t a loud person–not like his neighbor who lives on the other side of him–because he barely hears your footsteps and never hears you watching television. The most he’s heard is the scrape of a chair against hardwood floors. 

Above all, Sunghoon thinks you’re cute. You make his heart flutter for no good apparent reason. He’s barely spoken a word to you beyond introducing himself when you first moved in and yet he finds himself pacing his living room, wondering what kind of food you like to eat and what you do on the weekends. 

Sunghoon wishes he could come up with something witty to say to convince you to keep talking to him. But even seeing you in your well-worn clothes and tires expression on a Wednesday night is enough to leave him flustered. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon says awkwardly with a single nod in acknowledgement when he sees you standing in front of your apartment. He watches your hand halt by the knob. You turn your head to look around you and Sunghoon feels the heat creep up his neck. 

“Hi?” you say with an uptick in your voice, pointing at yourself. 

Sunghoon nods. “Hey.” 

“You already said that.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m Sunghoon.” 

“I know. I remember you from when I moved in.” 

“O-Oh,” Sunghoon stutters. “Right, yeah. You’re right. Well, I’ll introduce myself again in case you need anything.” 

You unlock your apartment and step inside. “Duly noted. Goodnight, Sunghoon.” 

When the door locks behind you, Sunghoon closes his eyes and curses at the ceiling for being awkward around you. He swears he might’ve felt his knees buckle when he looked into your eyes and struggles to fish out his apartment keys. 

He always wishes he could say something that would convince you to stay in the hallway just a minute longer. He wants to be courageous enough to ask a question that piques your interest, so much so that he invites you back to his apartment to discuss it over a bottle of soju before you head back to your place. But Sunghoon doesn’t do any of that because he always gets tongue-tied when he realizes you’re standing before him, and because you always close the door before he can even think of something else to say to you. Sunghoon sighs in defeat and loosens his tie as soon as he steps through the threshold of his own apartment. 

He sleeps with the sound of crickets chirping outside his window. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

as always, here's my taglist sign up, and consider leaving a comment (or two) and reblogging. xx

[bakerstreethound]

Won’t You Stay?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x reader

Warnings: mentions of overworking oneself, brief mentions of self-deprecation, anxiety, angst, comfort, and soft sherlock 

Summary: Starting a new semester always has it downfalls and shortcomings, but Sherlock is there to hold you through the worst of times, especially to help combat your greatest foe - your mind. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Sorry for being MIA in the fanfiction department. This semester has been keeping me busy & I’m trying to dedicate more time to recharging and trying not to push myself as vigorously. I hope you enjoy this work; I feel a little rusty right now, but I hope to brush up as I progress. I almost debated trashing this work. Anyways I hope you like some more Sherlock comfort. Graphic by @firefly-graphics​ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

You’re tired, oh so tired, still stuck at your desk, barely watching Sherlock walking by pouting. He's been observing you for the past couple of hours, wanting to be close to you, not knowing how to properly voice his thoughts. 

He knew your work was important, well for the most part, but he hated how it distracted you from him. when all he wants you nearer to him, preferably on his lap, or being spooned by you. 

That was even truer especially now since your major classes are already taking a good portion of your time for the next four months, going by all the information loaded in your messy syllabi. Not that he read them or looked over them while you were busy involved searching for textbooks and the like. 

“Something wrong?” You fight off the yawn but eventually give in, a soft smile forming on your face, happy to pry your eyes from the computer and notes you’d written by hand earlier. 

You shook out your wrist, frowning as something twinged and you rub a finger along your palm in a soothing circle. Such was the life of a student the wrist and finger cramps had no end in sight. Pair that with the stress and ever present anxiety that came from worrying about multiple impending projects, but those would be completed in their own time.  

He watches you, brow arching in concern before he strides over to you, reaching you quickly, carefully grasping your hand and encasing it in his large hand. You watch intent on seeing where this goes until he rubs the palm of your hand gently and almost immeidtaly the tension dissipates and you feel yourself relaxing as you sigh heavily. 

“Been distracted. You could use a distraction too.” his gaze falls to your tense shoulders, the way your neck cranes over the computer, tendons stretched in agony, the way your fingers hovered over the keyboard, like they’re afraid typing will set you on fire. It wasn’t that, your brain was stuck on a loop your stomach in knots, twin snakes biting, fighting for dominance, filling you with their unrelenting poisons. 

The self doubt pressing against you is a vice inside your chest, running from the brain all along your body. You breathe, trying to clear your mind, for you know oh you know how it lies twisting deep inside you they’re hard not to listen to or believe. Still, your heart hammers, mind swimming, trying to calm the storm brewing, to no avail. 

You’re stuck, trapped in a formula of your own creation, self perpetrated by all your doubts, fears, unwarranted thoughts seeping through; taunting you, lashing out their tongues, brimming hot searing fire spitting in your face. 

You try to concentrate on Sherlock’s words but everything falls in one ear and out the other, yet you watch him intently, his hand in yours, ignoring the words on your screen, trying everything you can to focus. 

For the love focus, you’re better than this

Bet everyone else has their project figured out already

You’re way out of you depth, you don’t belong there

Lies lies, stupid lies, you try to pull them from your mind, but still they’re chained to you, whooshing back and forth, pressing downward on you, phantoms of wrath coming to collect their dues, determined to destroy you from within. 

“Sherlock…I don’t know if I can do this…” You swallow, looking up at him, slamming your laptop as you take a deep breath, filled with turmoil and confusion. You don’t know what to say, fighting back the ashy feeling in your throat, the tears you know won’t come until the darkness of the night washes over you, long before anyone on the block is asleep. 

Why is it always so damn hard for you to voice what you need?

You felt like a child everything overwhelming, you wanted it all to go away, you wanted to disappear. How were you supposed to ask for something you can’t describe? Foreign words upon your tongue just there lingering a moment and gone again in an instant. Why did it hurt to say help? You would be seen as week nothing just a burden and not anything more. One word, four letters yet you can’t say it, though you desperately need to. 

Sensing your agitation Sherlock reaches his hand out to you, guiding you away from the throes of your turmoil, a beacon of light, as he takes you to bed, waiting until you settle in between the sheets before joining you. 

He falls on top of you trapping you, his weight a comfort. You smile kissing him before he buries his face in the crook of your neck and you pull him impossibly closer needing to feel him, your heart aching yearning for more of him though he is here in your arms. You choke back a sob, forgetting how much you crave him and his touches. 

The pure simplicity of being here his presence, means more to you than you can ever express. The past, the impending future didn’t matter in this moment, the world ceases to exist in this moment of peace grown from bine aching sorrow. 

“Please, stay,” you whisper, kissing him softly before it grows in desperation. 

“I’m here,” he responds in kind, soft kisses littered along your body. You feel it in every movement of his body, rememorizing you once more. Even when apart for some time, you always fit right back into him, it was only a memory game, nothing felt as you did right now in his arms.

The version of you from his mind palace doesn’t hold a candle to you, nor the sparkle in your eyes when you look at him, something he feels like he doesn’t deserve, but he holds you, stroking your sides, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It’s the least he can do, he reasons, he knows how much you have to sit through his insufferable cases dealing with his antics. 

You trusting him this way, well it is something he is constantly learning not to take for granted and when you kiss him on the lips, whispering your thanks, it’s all the reassurance he needs. You’ll make it through together, despite the lies your mind tells you and he will be there for you to calm your worries and fears. Each kiss he presses to your lips solidifies this, every time he’s rescued you from these irrational fears and now you can just be…here with him in the moment, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

******

[mikomikumi]

I wrote m o r e

And this time there's angst :O

If you guys like enough I may or may not have a second part ;)

TW; death, gore, sad :(

“Yes, my husband Francis is out at the moment”, you respond. The doorman soon hung up the phone. It was an odd feeling, being the one receiving the verification call instead of the one giving it. You were excited to see Francis come home. The timer for dinner was ringing in the kitchen. Placing your book down, you hurry over and take your meal out of the oven. Today’s dinner was chicken pot pie, one of Francises favourite dishes. Now being your loving husband, if you put an apple slice on the table he’d eat it and act like it was a five-star meal, but in your eyes, he deserved better than that.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of several spices, all good scents. Once the table had been properly set, you checked the dessert in the fridge. It was, of course, vanilla ice cream. With Francis bringing home lots of extra milk after work, it would be wasteful not to. Besides, if that wouldn’t satisfy your sweet tooth, you had other ideas~

Under your outfit was a beautiful lingerie set Francis bought you. It was a black set consisting of a see-through bra, easy-to-remove underwear, a garter belt and nylon stockings. This was your first time getting to wear the cheeky garment. You rolled up your dress skirt to fix your stockings in place when you heard the door open and close.

“Honey? Is that you?”, you shouted from the kitchen. There was no word back, but a few footsteps could be heard from behind you.

“Francis?”

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-—

The truck came to a halt on the side of the road. The final resting place for the day. Francis hopped out swiftly, fumbling to get his entry request and ID. He was looking forward to his weekend off with you. The company he works for had recently hired more milkmen, so that meant he was given a few days off to spend time with you. Approaching the office, something is off. The usual doorman Henry was gone.

Francis was worried and confused at the absence. He looked into the window to see a small note: “On break, be back soon”. From knowing of your experience, he knows this is against protocol. Another concerning part was that the door to the complex had been left open. Francis was too eager to see you. “I’m back, call my apartment when you get back. -Francis Mosses”. He scribbled a note onto a pad he used for work, tearing out the page and slipping it under the window.

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-—

The elevator dings, and outruns the excited milkman. Your shared apartment was just around the corner. Francis reached the door, hearing what he assumed were your movements around the kitchen. Not wasting any more time, he flings open the door. “Y/NNN! I’m back!”, he shuts the door behind him and heads into the kitchen. He closes his eyes as he takes in the scent of the chicken pot pie. When he opens his eyes, his entire demeanour drops.

He spotted your figure. You were lying on the floor. Your arms and legs were still, your eyes wide open, and your head had a bruise. Next to your torso kneeled…himself?

No…it wasn’t himself…it was something he feared. The doppelgänger rose its head, lips covered in blood. Its chin and under were drenched in your blood. Francis stood in shock as he stared at your stomach, or rather, lack of it. The doppelgänger smirked and began to stand. It looked Francis in the eyes smugly as it wiped your blood from its face. “You know…”, it taunted. Francises fists grew tight. They clenched as the copy of him walked closer.

“Your kind often has phrases. Ones that I never originally understood. What was that one? Oh yes. The way to a person's heart is through their stomach.”.

The doppelgänger stopped in its tracks, right in front of Francis. The milkman was ready to kill him.

“Well, they’re not wrong, but I found going through the ribs to be a lot easier.”.

That’s it, Francis had enough.

He let out a raged yell and swung at the duplicate of himself, hitting him in the side of the head. The scodoppelgänger, now slightly dazed, got angry. It lunged back sloppily. Francis easily dodged. The duplicate looked at him and thought as Francis began to run towards him, ready to pounce.

“Ya know what? This isn’t even worth the effort anymore”. The doppelgänger spoke. He picked up a chair and flung it with ease at the milkman. It Took out his legs, making him fall. “You…fucking…coward…”, Francis gritted through his teeth, standing up. The doppelgänger just scoffed as he walked out the door. Just as it was about to turn the doorknob, the D.D.D. burst in.

“D.D.D, ON THE GROUND NOW DOPPELGÄNGER”. The man in the hazmat suit yelled. He held what looked like a mix between a smoke gun and a shotgun. The doppel bared its teeth and was about to pounce on the man. The D.D.D. shot the weapon, and the Doppel disintegrated. Francis felt disturbed watching a version of himself be melted in front of him.

“Sir, are you alright?”, the D.D.D. asked. “…”, Francis couldn't speak. He couldn't believe that the doorman would be so careless to let a doppel in. His eyes shot open. “Y/N!” Francis screamed. He sprinted towards your limp body. Your lifeless, motionless body. Tears began to flood silently out his eyes. He kneeled down to the same place that the doppel had been eating from you, full of sorrow, guilt, and rage. The D.D.D. behind him stood in silence.

Francis could only look in pain. His sobs started to become audible. His heavy sighs were noticeable as he leaned down and pressed his head towards yours.

“She…she’s beautiful…isn’t she?”, Francis finally spoke. “…yes…” the D.D.D. was ready to burst into tears looking at him. He had called emergency services to come to the building. All he was able to do was wait with the now-bereaved man and do his best to comfort him.

“We…were planning to leave…”. The milkman stuttered. “We…we were gonna leave this place…we…were going to go somewhere safer…maybe even s-start a family” Francis broke down, holding your face as he painfully sobbed.

Help finally arrived. Your body was lifted onto a stretcher and taken away. The D.D.D. sat Francis in a chair and did his best to comfort him.