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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

youtube

KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

#love is real #chuck tingle #tingleverse #texas library association #actually autistic #lgtbqia #Youtube

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cuz-reasons · 1 year ago

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I don't wanna go to work tmr I wanna stay home and sleep

#but noooo im gonna go in and suffer for 8hr cuz were on outbreak and theres a bunch of extra rooms we have to clean now #like i could prolly call in but then i would feel obligated to say yes if they want me to come in this weekend #and i dont wanna do that more cuz i have a 4 day weekend which is kinda 5 days since my thursday shift is the 3hr evening one #so i p much also get that day off #ive worked so fuckin much these last two weeks cuz one of my co workers got covd and i get scheduled in to fill that #and im so fuckin tired #auughh #next week i only work a few days and i am not complaining considering how fuckin frontloaded this month was #i just wanna write the rest of my prompt list without being tired from work and it not be on my notes app during my break #is that so much to ask?#anywys #enjoy my midnight ramblings

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borathae · 6 months ago

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The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him.

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.”

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you.

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles.

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed.

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him.

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape.

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will.

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you.

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good.

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way.

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found.

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands.

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!”

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?”

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent. You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat.

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?”

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke.

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily.

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore.

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence.

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?”

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?”

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him.

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside.

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you.

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten.

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry.

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.”

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.”

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.”

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off.

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work.

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly.

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt.

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing.

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps.

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum.

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip.

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp.

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave.

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!”

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes.

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments.

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave.

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?”

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?”

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking.

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name.

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come.

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer.

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain?

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V.

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone.

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.”

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same.

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head.

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser.

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly.

He cradles your face, wiping your tears.

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt.

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss.

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle.

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat.

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk.

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it.

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved.

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.”

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop.

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him.

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you.

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see.

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed.

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob.

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better.

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back.

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily.

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!”

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms.

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”, he sobs, hugging you close.

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it.

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy.

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t.

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek.

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face.

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful.

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in.

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi.

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling.

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly.

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin.

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly.

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug.

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms.

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you.

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you.

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests.

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other.

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest.

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do.

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him.

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection.

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

2K notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 5 months ago

Text

for the fear of falling apart | part three

when it seems like a return to normalcy is impossible, you decide that something has to give, but will it bend or will it break?

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, therapy, mommy and daddy issues, sigmund freud, nightmares and ptsd, sleep deprivation, takes place during 15x4 "saturday" (max does not exist in this au), stalkers, yelling, police, domestic disturbance, broken dishes, severe self image issues, crying, implies that jj is sometimes not the greatest friend, marriage and marriage counseling, mentions the death of grace lynch, the chameleon arc, reader and spencer are both broken people sry. things get resolved (or do they?) word count: 5.13k a/n: i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that people will not like how this part goes, but i do think it's important to remember that this is not where it ends. it's probably easy to guess what episode I'm rewriting next. lol. let me know your thoughts and feelings because i am dying to know.

“Are you glad to be back at work?” Your therapist asked you, writing down your personal information on the form on her clipboard before she met your stare.

Chewing impatiently on the inside of your lip, you glanced over to the clock that was hung above the door, dooming you to another forty-five minutes with Dr. Harmon. “Yes, I love desk duty,” you told her, flashing a fake smile in her direction.

The older woman looked at you doubtfully, and you silently begged for her to sign your return to duty forms. “I thought we spoke about using sarcasm as a coping mechanism,” she responded in a way that made you feel chastised.

You raised your eyebrows at her, gray hair neatly combed into a tight bun, you had spent more time with your therapist for the past two months than you had any of your family – the rest of your time was spent retraining your body, usually within the limitations of your doctor’s orders. “And I thought we talked about there being worse coping mechanisms that I could be using,” you countered, leaning back in her chair.

She shrugged helplessly, “Well, I’m not sure about signing your release forms. You could be a liability in the field.”

Eyes widening, you tilted your head to the side, “No, no, no, I’ve grown a new appreciation for the desk workers in the BAU. I even stopped laughing when people refer to Agent Anderson as Grunt Anderson,” you informed her, nodding as if that would help convince her of your honesty.

Checking off a box on your form, she set the clipboard on her side table, just out of your view. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Harmon leaned forward and folded her hands over her knee, “Have you spoken to your sister since the last time I saw you?”

You leaned your head back, staring at the tiles of the ceiling as any hope of returning to the field left your body.

One of your very first dates with Spencer had been at the Academy’s shooting range, you had a lucky spot there, it was where you had aced your qualification as a cadet, and it was pure luck that it had been available when you arrived.

As your paper target was brought forward, you slipped off your headphones and set your weapon down, studying the results as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously.

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, casually leaning against the wall behind you.

You jumped slightly as the sound of his voice took you away from your anxiety, “Hey,” you echoed, holstering your weapon as you sent your target back for someone to change it out.

“I thought you were going to come to the BAU after therapy,” he explained, arms crossed in front of his chest in his charcoal suit, camouflaging himself with the steely gray of the shooting range.

Pursing your lips, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before grabbing your bag, “I wanted to get some practice in before my requalification test.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “Did your therapist sign your return to duty?”

“No,” you muttered, knowing that you wouldn’t be eligible to take your firearms requalification until after you had been cleared by a psychiatrist.

Any surprise quickly left his face, “What did she say, then?”

You rolled your eyes, “She told me that it’s possible that my strained relationship with my parents is negatively affecting my performance in my sessions. Then she threw a Freud biography at my head.”

“Did you talk to her about the nightmares?” He asked, following you as you checked out of the shooting range, waving to a gaggle of cadets as they noticed the BAU agents in their general vicinity.

Faltering as you opened the door, you flung the glass door open and trudged out of it, “I have it under control,” you lied through your teeth, continuing your way to the elevator.

The tapping of Spencer’s shoes signified that he was following you, holding his hand over the sensor while you stepped in and using his knuckle to press the parking garage button, “You were up all night last night,” he retorted, “She could help you develop a coping mechanism that works for you so that you can get some rest, angel.”

You were getting tired of those words, “Well, maybe we’ll reach a breakthrough next week. You never know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so unamenable,” he accused.

Shaking your head as you stepped out of the elevator, you hoisted your bag back over your shoulder, “Is unamenable genius-speak for pain in the ass?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” he retorted, swiping the keys out of your hands before unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. You had been cleared to drive weeks ago, but Spencer still insisted on driving you.

You groaned, “My recent brush with death has made it difficult for me to let bygones be bygones.”

Pulling out of the parking spot, he carefully placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, “And here I thought we were actually going to move on with our lives.”

“No one holds a grudge like a youngest child,” you informed him, leaning your head against the window and wishing you had driven separately.

Being at home wasn’t much better than being at Quantico. You quickly changed and settled yourself on the couch while Spencer sat across from you, legs crossed in the wingback chair as he finished filling in a crossword book that you had started that morning.

You watched the clock tick, the diffused orange light of the sunset beamed through the curtains, and you felt yourself settle. Stiff joints and aching muscles unwound on the supple leather of the couch, and as you let your eyes fall shut, you felt the breeze of someone walking by before Spencer stopped in front of you.

Gently, he draped a knit blanket over you, tucking you in before crouching and dropping a gentle kiss to your temple.

Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now.

I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.

It’s okay. I’ve got you.

“Honey, wake up.”

You startled awake on the couch, wadding up the blanket in your fists as your eyes adjusted to the dim environment of the apartment. The sun had set, dipping below the skyline as you stared ahead.

Concerned brown eyes bore into you as you caught your breath, Spencer reached over and flicked on the table lamp next to you, “You’re alright,” he cooed, gently enough to make you want to cry. “It was just a bad dream,” he told you, cupping your cheek and studying your expression.

Nodding absently, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, the familiar knit blanket falling in a puddle around your waist. “I was in the parking garage again,” you preemptively answered his next question. You were usually in the parking garage, sometimes you were on the beach, and once you had been fully underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

You shook your head and ignored the defeated look on Spencer’s face, instead burying your face in your hands and taking a few deep breaths.

He waited for a moment before speaking again, reaching out and adjusting the bunched-up fabric of your t-shirt, “Are you hungry? I made soup.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, afraid it would start growling at the mention of food.

As you watched Spencer get up and walk over to the kitchen, you let yourself feel like everything was alright for the slightest moment. You wanted your apartment to be your safe space where there were no serial killers or sisters or hospitals, but there was a classified file on the kitchen table, photos of you and your sister littered the walls, and there was an entire drawer in the home office dedicated to your hospital stay.

Melding into the couch cushions, you ignored the stiffness in your side, the scars that marred your skin were healed over, but the memory would stick with you for a lifetime. It felt like a phantom pain, irritating your skin whenever you thought too much about it, or whenever your therapist asked you about Grace Lynch.

It didn’t bring you a lot of comfort to know that she was dead, murdered by her own father after conning her ex-girlfriend into giving her money. Everett Lynch was the threat now, and you were stuck on the bench.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your cheek on your knee as Spencer ladled soup into a bowl and presented it to you, complete with a few ice cubes to cool it down. He waltzed back into the kitchen to clean up when his phone rang.

You ignored his conversation while you stirred the ice cubes around in your bowl, the soft clinking of them mesmerizing your tired brain. You ate while he spoke on the phone, mentioning something about a case. Pushing any thoughts of serial killers away, you just ate your soup.

Sipping at the broth, you grew curious about what was going on over the phone, but you tried to mind your business, scooping at the last noodles in the bowl before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Who was that?” You asked, eyes following Spencer as he walked back over to the living room, slipping his phone in his pocket as he sat next to you on the couch.

He paused for a moment, and you immediately regretted asking, “Uh, it was JJ.”

You supposed it had to mean something that he elected to tell you the truth instead of lying to you, but you were no longer feeling optimistic, “Ah.”

“Don’t start,” he said immediately.

You turned to him, raising your eyebrows curiously and pushing yourself into the corner of the couch – away from him, “Start what, Spencer?”

Spencer put his hands up, “Picking a fight with me over JJ’s feelings. JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope are working on a stalker case, it’s nothing that we need to worry about.”

“I’m not going to pick a fight with you, I already told you that I forgive you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He groaned in frustration, “You can say it all you want, but you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven me.”

As he usually was, Spencer was right, you hadn’t forgiven him for lying to you about what had happened between him and JJ. You wanted to. You wanted to find it in yourself to be the bigger person and just tell him it was fine. All you wanted was to move on, but you were crashing into roadblock after roadblock. “Are you going to work that case?”

“No, it’s a classic stalking case, they’ll make it without me,” he said, turning on the couch to face you.

You swallowed thickly, “You can go if you’d rather be there,” you reassured him, wondering if he’d be happier at work than at home with you. Someone needed to make a decision, someone needed to decide whether or not the two of you were going to keep going or if you were going to call it off. You didn’t want it to be you, you were afraid of which option you might choose.

Spencer frowned, “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not,” you answered.

“Yes, yes you are,” he challenged, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

Shaking your head, you threw your hands up in surrender, “You don’t have to go. You can stay here. You live here. Who the fuck am I to tell you to leave?”

“And now you’re escalating the situation,” he observed, straightening up and watching you carefully.

You didn’t consider yourself an angry person. The two of you didn’t fight often, but as you considered your options, you wondered if it could help. Maybe you could replicate the feeling of a good cry. Maybe all you need is a good fight. Just talk it out – loudly. “I’m not escalating anything. I’m not starting anything. In case you haven’t noticed, this has been going on for months.”

He had noticed, he could probably give you an exact date and time to point out when everything fell apart. Was it inside the pawn shop? Was it in the courtyard outside of Rossi’s wedding? “I thought we had made some real progress at the hospital,” he challenged.

Getting up from the couch, you took a deep breath and tossed the blanket over the back, “You cannot seriously think that. You’re too smart to believe that, Spencer. The idea that we fixed everything while I was hopped up on Xanax and painkillers. It’s… it’s…” you stumbled over your words for a moment. It’s crazy. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t do that to him. Spencer had spent his whole life having that word thrown at his mother, and he spent adulthood fearing he’d have a schizophrenic break. “It’s outlandish,” you finally finished.

Spencer looked up at you from the couch, “Is it outlandish to think that the history we have together would help mend our relationship?”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know, Spencer, let’s take a look at your history with my sister,” you snapped.

“Oh, come on,” he protested.

“No,” you commanded, “Sit down and shut up. I’ve spent months waiting for you to get it, but apparently, I need to spell it out for you.”

To your surprise, he listened, watching you in silence as you took a deep breath, picked up your soup bowl, and brought it into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounded like thunder in your ears.

Standing in front of him, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I want you to empathize with me.” You calculated every word you said, “We’ve known each other for nine years. We’ve been together for seven, and I- I had the rug pulled out from under me. God, you went on a date with my sister. You took her to a football game as a hater of organized sports. My beautiful, prom queen, soccer star, gem of the family older sister.”

“It wasn’t a date, Penelope went with us,” Spencer added patiently.

You peered down at him, “When you asked her to go with you, did you do it with the intention that you would be taking her on a date?”

His shoulders slackened, “Yeah,” he answered softly.

“And you know that she loves you. If you went to her right now and told her you wanted to be with her, that there’s a chance she’d consider it. She’d at least have to think about it,” you told him, confidence dissipating as your hands started to tremble and you silently begged yourself not to cry.

Spencer watched you suspiciously, “What gave you the impression that I want to be with her instead of you?”

You faltered, just for a moment, “Why wouldn’t you want to be with her?” You asked exasperatedly, letting your arms fall limply at your sides.

Pinching his eyebrows together, your boyfriend looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “She’s married? Her kids are my godchildren?”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you cursed yourself as tears stung your eyes, “Are those seriously the only reasons you can think of?” With all the brain power you knew he had, you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, “Putting aside the fact that I’d be destroying a marriage, not because it doesn’t matter, but because being with your sister isn’t even something I’d consider. This might not have occurred to you, but I have absolutely no interest in being with someone other than you!”

You huffed, “Please, she’s beautiful and athletic and older and you’ve known her for fifteen years!” You shouted over your shoulder, making your way back to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything you needed from in there, you just needed to keep moving.

“But she’s not you!” He yelled from the couch, finally getting up and following you to the kitchen.

Spinning around on your heel, you threw your arms in the air, “God, I know!” You swung your arms down, accidentally sending the bowl you had set on the counter down to the floor, breaking on impact. “Shit,” you muttered, immediately dropping to a crouch and starting to pick up the ceramic shards.

“Hey, wait, let me get it,” Spencer insisted, grabbing a kitchen towel from the drawer before laying it on the floor. He carefully picked up the larger shards, waving your hands away.

You clenched your hands and glared at him with bleary eyes, “Why? Why am I not allowed to clean up the mess that I made?”

Spencer sighed, “You’re crying. I don’t want you to get hurt because you can’t see well,” he told you, prompting you to sit back on the tile and watch him continue to pick up.

You crisscrossed your legs and watched him, “I’m sorry for yelling,” you whispered, so quietly that you weren’t even sure he had heard you.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Spencer gathered up the kitchen towel and set it on the counter, setting his hands on the counter and taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry for raising my voice,” he echoed your sentiments. He moved to the hall closet to get out the broom, interrupted by a knock on the door.

Confused, you poked your head over the counter and watched as Spencer opened the front door.

“Good evening, officer,” he greeted, casting a sidelong glance over at you.

Fuck.

You scrambled to your feet, careful not to step on any pieces of the bowl that remained on the floor and wiping beneath your eyes as you made your way to the door, peeking around the corner to find two DC Metro officers. “Agent Jareau?” One of the officers said curiously.

“Hi,” you waved timidly, looking between the two of them with your tail between your legs.

He looked surprised at the revelation of who lived here, recognizing you from a case you had consulted on months ago. “We were called here on a report of a domestic disturbance, your neighbor in said she heard ‘a lot of yelling before there was a crash and then everything went quiet’.”

The summation of events did nothing to slow your racing heart, “We had uh… we were having a disagreement, and I knocked over a bowl. It was an accident,” you reassured the officer, reaching out and taking Spencer’s hand as a sign of good faith.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You nodded in confirmation, “I’m really sorry about any inconvenience, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.”

The DC Metro officers studied Spencer suspiciously, and you protectively moved in front of him. They were trained to see the worst-case scenario, but there was nothing happening here, “Well then, just uh… try to keep it down, I suppose.”

The two of you waved as they walked away, once the door was closed, you turned to face Spencer, “Are you alright?”

He looked a little pale, “I’m alright,” he nodded, gathering himself before going back to the hall closet. “That was weird,” he added.

Spencer’s interaction with police officers was limited to work with the bureau and his time in prison. He never had to explain an underage drunk person in the car or run when a party got too rowdy, but he wasn’t concerned with the confrontation, he was concerned that, for a moment, before you got there, those officers saw Spencer as a violent person. You stayed put, watching him sweep up the last of the bowl and take care of the sharp pieces with a keen eye.

“I’d never hurt you,” Spencer said softly, unnecessarily explaining to you.

You nodded, “I know. You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person.” In fact, you had only seen Spencer aggressively violent one time in your life, and that was when his mother’s life was on the line. Stepping over to him, you lifted yourself so that you were sitting on the kitchen counter, meeting his eyes.

“She is not you,” he murmured, reaching out and taking both of your hands in his.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, “I am well aware,” you offered.

He took a deep breath, “JJ would never ask me to recite Henry James to her or offer to go to the planetarium with me even after we spent all day on a case or sit through one of my lectures just to hear me talk about something I’m passionate about,” he began. "I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation about something I’m passionate about with your sister. Not one where she didn’t interrupt me or pawn me off on somebody else,” he told you, disconnecting one of your hands to wipe new tears from your cheeks.

“I- I’m not…” you breathed, overwhelmed as he sang your praises.

“I know you compare yourself to her,” he cut you off, “it’s normal for you to compare yourself to your older sister. I just didn’t know how lowly you thought of yourself until all of this was dug up.”

Frowning, you cocked your head to the side, “I do not compare myself to her,” you remarked.

He hummed in response, “It wasn’t up for debate. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone except for you. I am sorry that I never told you about the football game, but by the time you joined the team, six years had passed, and I didn’t think it was pertinent to tell you that your sister had rejected me. That is entirely on me, and I can’t change it. I can, however, spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Your breathing hitched, and the ghost of a potential proposal once again floated through the air, it made your heart ache. “One of these days you’re going to have to actually ask me to marry you,” you whispered, not sure how much longer you’d be able to sit and wait while he neglected to act upon his words.

“What do you want right now?” Spencer asked, studying your facial expression.

You have spent three months being mad at him, and you had to believe it all came down to tonight. Neither of you could keep going with things the way they were. “I’m not sure,” you answered.

Patiently, Spencer inquired, “Do you want to break up?”

If you told him you hadn’t thought about it, you’d be lying. It broke your heart to think about ending things with him, to think that six years together didn’t mean something to the both of you. Spencer had never given any inclination that he was interested in anyone else, so maybe he should’ve told you about the football game, but you shouldn't have let your insecurities block any attempt at reconciliation. “No,” you responded truthfully.

He had tried, too. The one-sided conversations he had with floral bouquets, taking time off of work to help you while you recovered, and he had even limited his contact with your sister. “Do you want to go to couple’s therapy?”

You had heard through the grapevine that your sister was trying marriage counseling with Will, something about working on their communication skills. With that in mind, you nodded, “We can try it out.”

“Do you know what you want?” He asked, settling a hand on your thigh.

Through the sheer curtains, you looked outside, “I want to go,” you informed him, hopping off of the kitchen counter and to your shared bedroom, pulling on a pair of socks.

Confused, Spencer followed you around the apartment, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“I’m going,” you said simply.

He looked surprised at this, “It’s the middle of the night in the twenty-second largest city in the country, you’re not going out alone.”

You paused for a moment at his concern, watching the defeated look on his face morph into one of relief when you responded, “Then put your shoes on,” you encouraged.

As you waited by the door, mindful to not walk through the apartment with your shoes on, he stopped in your bedroom for a moment before coming back out and slipping his sneakers on. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing your keys off of the hook, you opened the door and held it for Spencer as he followed your lead. “You know at the start of Moby Dick when Ishmael says when he finds himself growing grim about the mouth and wanting to knock people’s hats off, he takes to the sea?”

He nods, taking the keys from your hand and locking the door behind him, glancing briefly at your neighbor’s door before handing your keys back to you, “I’m familiar,” he confirmed.

“Well, I’m feeling rather grim about the mouth,” you told him assuredly, slipping your keys into your pockets and slowly making your way down the hold staircase of your apartment building, listening for Spencer’s footsteps right behind you.

Even with your back turned, you knew his expression would be one of confusion, “So, you want to take to the sea?”

You quickly shook your head, the very last place you wanted to be was near a body of water in the middle of the night, “Not particularly, but maybe the park and some fresh air would do me some good.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he confirmed, stepping around you to hold the front door open so that you could walk outside, the cool night air stinging your face as you did.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the night sky, the stars hidden through the city’s light pollution.

Upon reaching the park, which was just a small green space down the street from your apartment, Spencer led you to a cement bench, the two of you sitting down and sitting in silence. You welcomed the cold air filling your lungs, watching the fountain from a distance and admiring the way the headlights of a few passing cars reflected off of the water.

He kept a hand on your back, gently moving his hand up and down your spine as the two of you reveled in the startling nighttime peace. “I haven’t been fair to you,” you murmured nervously, looking over at him.

“None of this has been fair to anyone,” he reminded you.

You sighed, “JJ confessed her feelings, not the other way around, and I- I shouldn’t have held that against you for so long.” The admission came to you easily, holding your breath as you waited for him to agree.

Spencer’s silence worried you, but then he finally responded, “I probably would have done the same thing, but I don’t think it’s right for me to speculate how I would or wouldn’t have acted in your shoes.”

“I just… she’s always been perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect wife, the perfect agent, and I’m… I’m just me,” you said helplessly, staring ahead at the fountain.

He took a deep breath, “You’re perfect to me.”

“Stop,” you chastised halfheartedly.

Chuckling, he placed his hand over yours, “I mean it. Sometimes perfection is about the final concoction and not about getting all of the steps right. You don’t need the perfect journey, and, to me, nothing proves that more than you.”

You hummed, “You’re sweet.”

“For what it’s worth, I think, given the opportunity, you could be a perfect wife,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee, getting your head to snap to the side.

Jumping up from the bench, you smacked your hand over your mouth at the small black box that he had set on the stone surface. “What are you… what?” You asked breathlessly, looking behind you in the way people usually did when they were surprised, waiting to see if you were being pranked.

“It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring,” he reached down and snapped the box open, showing you the glimmering ring inside. “It can just be a promise because I am promising you right now, this is it for me. You are the only person I can see myself with, and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Gaping at him, you looked between him and the ring before closing your mouth, “That sounds an awful lot like an engagement ring,” you told him, out of breath.

He nodded, “That’s because I want it to be.”

“Okay,” you answered.

“What?”

You giggled, he evidently hadn’t expected that answer, “Yes, Spencer.”

He stood up, tackling you in an embrace, “Thank goodness.” He said, relaxing into you as you returned his hug.

Over the past few months, you had been almost afraid of him asking you, worried that it would feel like an excuse. A band-aid over a bullet hole. But as you held each other tightly, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of right. This was where you were always meant to be. “Will you put it on me?”

He nodded slowly, sniffling as he pulled away from you, the warmth of his body leaving you as he nimbly took your left hand, slipping the ring on your fourth finger. The metal felt foreign on your skin, but you welcomed it nonetheless. “That has been sitting in my sock drawer for a year,” he admitted, placing both of his hands on your waist and meeting your eyes.

You beamed up at him, at both the revelation that he bought you a ring well before any of the trials and tribulations of the last few months and that he hid the ring in the one place you never touched – the seemingly bottomless abyss of unmated socks that Spencer called his sock drawer. “Thank you,” you breathed.

Spencer leaned his head down, hovering his lips just above your own, “For what, love?”

Blinking small tears out of your eyes, you answered, “For not giving up on us.”

He smiled, “Never,” he whispered before dropping his lips to yours, the intimacy of something as small as a kiss enough to bring butterflies to your stomach. “Do you want to go home? Or are you still feeling grim about the mouth?”

“Let’s go home, Spence,” you told him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before the two of you began the trek home, hand in hand.

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platinumshawnn · 5 months ago

Text

to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

#davos blackwood #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood fic #benjicot blackwood x reader #kieran burton #house blackwood #benjicot blackwood imagine #ben blackwood #reed writes !

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certaimromance · 26 days ago

Text

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Tall Child.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader (platonic)

Summary: No matter how hard you try to impress him, Agent Hotchner never seems to be satisfied with your work. And it all comes crashing down when you decide to confront him.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime. reader was injured (nothing serious). angst WITHOUT happy ending. hotch being a father figure. soo much angst (yes, again). father and rebellious daughter type discussion. temporarily located in the first season. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: He is so ❤️‍🔥daddy❤️‍🔥 but also 💔dad💔 for me, okay?

This was painful to write, so I loved it (I literally wrote it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski in the background).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Anyone who knows you knows that your lifelong dream was to help make the world a better place.

And from your day one at the BAU, you felt like your wildest dreams had come true. You were saving lives, reassuring victims, and helping to bring to justice those who tormented them so they could never do it to anyone else again. You were making a real difference in the world, even if you weren't the caped superhero you wanted to be as a kid.

But, as they say, nothing's perfect. And your job had more contradictions for your mental and physical health than there were fingers on your hands to count. The long and unstable schedule, the few hours of sleep, nightmares about the atrocities you saw, no social life outside the team...and of course, the constant disappointment you felt from Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

From day one, you had worked tirelessly to prove yourself. You craved the approval of your superiors, the respect of your colleagues. The job was demanding, yes, but you wanted to show that you could not only handle it but thrive under the pressure. And you had earned the trust and admiration of everyone around you, except for him.

Agent Hotchner was an enigma to you. There was something about him that both intrigued and intimidated you. He was always so calm, without showing much emotion, without so much as a smile for you. He was a wall you couldn't break through no matter how hard you tried. You had tried so hard to impress him, to make sure he saw your dedication, your work ethic, but you always seemed to fall short. His approval, or lack thereof, hurt more than anything else. You had gotten used to it by now, but it didn't make it any easier.

And now, here you were, in his office, watching him scrutinize your medical diagnosis. He had just glanced at the report from the doctor that had followed you back from the Utah case. Your shoulder, a minor injury, but one that could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t thrown yourself headfirst into the danger in the way you did.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, you dared to speak. “What do you think? I am practically at my best.”

Deep down, you knew you were lying through your teeth and that you were not well with an injured shoulder, a concussion, and several bruises, but you refused to say so out loud. You were a brave girl, and he should know.

Hotch looked up from the report in his hand and stared at you. It was the kind of look that made your hair stand on end and gave you a feeling that something was wrong.

“No, you're not.” He sighs and closes the folder before walking over to the desk you were sitting behind. He leans against it as he looks at you, arms folded across his chest. “You disobeyed a direct order during the case. You abandoned your partner.”

“I didn’t abandon Reid,” you replied, your voice sounding more defensive than you intended. You straightened in your chair, wincing slightly as your shoulder protested the movement. “I simply suggested he wait behind me. And it worked, didn’t it? He saved the victim, and I stopped the unsub.”

Teamwork, as you liked to call it.

“It paid off this time,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But that doesn’t excuse disregarding protocol. You put yourself and your partner in unnecessary danger. That’s not the kind of decision-making we can afford here.”

Oh no, here comes the usual chatter you didn't want to hear this time. Normally, you would be quiet, listening and nodding at his every word, but this time there was something different. You just longed for congratulations. Was it really so difficult for him to tell you once that you did something right?

You stiffened in your chair, the ache in your shoulder suddenly more pronounced. “With all due respect, I evaluated the situation and made a hard decision. I’m not some rookie who doesn’t know how to handle themselves in the field.”

Even as the words came out, you felt very nervous. You didn't know if it was the drugs they gave you in the hospital to fight the pain or if it was just your shyness leaving your body completely for no reason.

“I’m not questioning your skills,” he replied sharply. “But you’re not operating at one hundred percent, and that affects your judgment. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for months—longer, maybe. And now you’re injured. You need time to recover and think about this.”

God, no.

“I don’t need time; I need to work,” you shot back, frustration lacing your tone. This job was your lifeline, your purpose. Without it, who were you?

“You know we work as a team. A unit. And when one part of the unit breaks down, there are consequences.” His voice wasn’t just firm; it was unyielding, like a warning. The way he said it almost felt like he was speaking to a child—a reprimand you didn’t want but knew you had earned. “No one is above the team, not even you.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it or the words he used, but it was like the straw that broke the camel's back, and you were tired of putting up with the situation. This was the first time you had made a decision on your own, the first time you had not discussed your ideas with the team only to have them ignored and then spoken louder by someone else. Finally, you had acted, and even that was wrong.

You were tired, fucking tired of being ignored and judged much more harshly than the rest.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, barely audible but heavy with frustration. The ache in your shoulder seemed to flare as if your body was responding to the tension in the room. “And what consequences are you thinking of, sir?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no hiding the venom now. “What’s worse than not being valued even when I do my job?”

His gaze turned hard as if your tone had cut him deeper than any physical injury could. He didn’t take kindly to disrespect, especially from someone who had otherwise followed his orders without question. You saw the shift in him, the quiet fury simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior. If you were anyone else, the conversation would have already escalated. But you weren’t anyone else. You were someone he knew far too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he bit back, his voice low and steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach twist. There was no mistake now—this wasn’t just about the case. This was more personal. “You are suspended. Your gun and badge on the table. Now.”

Oh, oh, oh.

The words hung in the air between you like a guillotine, sudden and final. The room seemed to close in on you, the breath in your chest catching in surprise. You didn’t know if it was the shock or the disbelief, but your mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of his command. Suspended? Your world was spinning.

You opened your mouth to speak, to argue, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you with nothing but a hollow sound of confusion. “What? Why?”

“Agent, you disobeyed a direct order and endangered yourself and your partner,” he said firmly. “I don’t take your actions lightly. Suspension is not a punishment—it’s a consequence. You need time to heal, both physically and mentally.”

The idea of being sidelined was incomprehensible. The thought of doing nothing—being stuck in your apartment, forced to be still—felt suffocating. No. You couldn’t accept it.

“This is ridiculous. I did my job! I stopped the unsub! Reid saved the victim because I made the right choice!”

You saved a life, even if it meant risking a little of your own. You did save it.

“And what happens next time?” Hotch shot back, his voice rising slightly. “What happens if your judgment falters again because you’re running on empty? What if next time, it’s Reid who doesn’t come back?”

Then, silence.

The thought of Spencer getting hurt turned your stomach and made you question your actions. If anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself…His life did matter, a lot.

“Gun. Badge. Now.” Your boss talks again. He gestured toward the desk.

Your fingers trembled, betraying you as you reached for the gun on your hip. The cool metal felt foreign in your hands, like something that had never truly belonged to you. Your mind screamed for you to stop, to stand your ground, to fight this. But your body, exhausted and broken, refused to cooperate.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice cracked before you could get the words out. “I…I didn’t mean…I just…”

Finally, with a shaky breath, you placed your gun on the desk. The thud it made as it landed felt like the sound of everything you had worked for being shattered in front of you. You could feel the sting of unshed tears burning in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

It didn’t matter what you said. It never seemed to matter, not with him. You had tried so hard to be the one who did everything right, to be the one he could rely on, and yet all you had earned was this—this cold, final judgment. He wasn’t just your boss in that moment; he was the embodiment of everything you had tried to prove yourself against. A reminder that, no matter what you did, it still wasn’t enough.

The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them, the bitter taste of them already familiar. “You think I’m weak, don’t you?” The tone you had intended to be defiant came out more like a desperate plea. “You think I can’t handle this, that I’m just some liability?”

He didn’t flinch at your outburst. His gaze softened, but just barely. “No,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle but firm. “I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not weak. But you’re hurting, and I can see it. You need time to recover.”

The words hit you like a slap, unexpected and unwelcome. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you tried to fight back the burning in your chest. You refused to let the tears well up, to let them gather where he could see them. Not here. Not now. Please, not now.

“I don’t need time,” you said, your voice sharp, biting. But underneath the defiance was something raw and desperate, a quiet plea that you couldn’t fully suppress. “I need to be here. I need to do my job. I need to save lives.”

The last part came out as a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would shatter the fragile conviction you had left. You felt like you were slipping, like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and all you could do was cling to this one thing—the job. The only thing that made you feel like you mattered.

“The only life you need to save now is yours,” he said, his voice quieter but still heavy with authority.

You froze, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a crushing tide. Your stomach churned, and you fought to keep your composure, to keep from lashing out, even though every part of you wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

A bitter, trembling laugh bubbled up from your throat, unbidden and full of venom. “If it had been Reid or Morgan, you wouldn’t be doing this,” you snapped, the accusation like a raw wound exposed to the open air.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—anger, hurt, or something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffening, and when he spoke, his voice was sharper than before, each word deliberate and cutting.

“No,” he said, the firmness in his tone slicing through the room like a blade. “Because they would never have done this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It slammed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every other sound. His words rang in your ears, echoing in the hollow space left behind by your crumbling defenses.

They would never have done this.

Your chest tightened, a deep ache settling in your ribs, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. He wasn’t just saying you’d made a mistake—he was saying you were the mistake. That you weren’t good enough. That you never would be.

“Is this because I’m a woman?” you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. There was a bitter edge to them, a question that had been gnawing at you for far too long. “Because Elle is too, and even she has more, or is it because of my age? Reid is younger, and you never doubt him.”

“It’s not about any of that,” he said finally, his voice low and tight. But it wasn’t reassuring. It only sounded like an evasion, like he was brushing your concerns aside, and it made your chest ache all over again. “It’s not about your gender or your age.”

“It’s about me,” you said, the words like glass shards scraping at your insides. “It’s about how you don’t trust me.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost like guilt, but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He opened his mouth, but the words he spoke next were measured, controlled. Too controlled.

“No,” he said, his voice so steady it almost hurt. “That’s not it.”

You stared at him, heart racing, hands trembling, as the truth wrapped around you tighter than you ever thought possible. His words weren’t just dismissing your feelings—they were rejecting everything you had ever believed about your worth, about why you were here, in this moment, fighting so desperately for something you couldn’t even name.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t going to back down. Not anymore.

“Then what is it?” You whispered, voice breaking, tears finally threatening to spill. “What is it, Hotch? What is it about me that isn’t enough?”

“It’s not about you,” he said, but his voice lacked the certainty it usually held. “It’s not about trusting you…It’s about protecting you.” His gaze softened just enough for you to notice, but it only made the pain worse. “I can’t lose…I can’t let you lose yourself.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You were trembling, your pulse racing in your ears, but now there was only a terrible stillness. You swallowed, trying to push down the bitterness that rose up in your throat.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” you snapped, barely holding back the frustration that bubbled to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to act like you’re my father, making me follow some imaginary line, keeping me under your control. If you want to raise someone, you already have a baby at home.”

The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—just the faintest flicker of hurt in his eyes. The barest flinch. But it was enough to make you feel the weight of your accusation like a stone, sinking into your chest. The silence that followed was thick with it, suffocating, and you could feel the air growing heavier between you.

“I’m not your dad,” he said, the words low, the icy calm of his voice unmistakable. There was no anger in it, just a hollow, painful truth. But the sting of it was sharp enough to leave a mark.

You blinked, the sharpness of his response cutting through you like a blade. You wanted to fight back, to lash out with everything you had, but something stopped you. Instead, your voice came out quieter, almost hollow as you whispered, “I know…Do you know that?”

And then, just like that, you turned away, your breath ragged in your chest. You didn’t wait for his answer, didn’t wait for anything. You couldn’t stand the ache that had taken root in your chest, the fear that had begun to take shape in the corners of your mind.

And the door slammed behind you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader

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emo-batboy · 1 year ago

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Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

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weediee · 7 months ago

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New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

#alastor x reader #human alastor #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor radio demon #alastor hartfelt #alastor x wife reader #female reader #no smut

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ratskinsuit · 11 months ago

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A Warm Embrace

Hazbin Hotel Lucifer x gn!Reader

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“Recently Lucifer has seeming more depressed than usual, constantly putting himself down, shutting himself off from everyone, and locking himself in his office for hours at a time, whenever he comes out he’s distant and moody, so you go and try to comfort him.”

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, Lucifer being sad, comfort

This was an anonymous request, if anything is wrong feel free to request again, but I hope I did well! I’m not the best at writing fluff but I tried.

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It was a normal afternoon at Lucifer’s castle, yet Lucifer was not out like he usually was. He has been really down and depressed lately, only leaving his office for meals, and during them he just picks at it and is silent. If you try to get him to come out he will just make excuses.

“Sorry I just have a lot to do.. like make..ducks and, paperwork…” He would say.

So you decided that enough was enough, and you would help him through this episode. You made him some warm lavender tea, some apple slices with honey, and an assortment of fruits.

You hum on your way to office, knocking and opening the door, stepping inside, you see your partner hunched over the desk, papers and rubber ducks scattered all around. His eyes are half-lidded, and bloodshot. His hair is a mess, knotted and messy, stands infront of his face. Hes wearing a random white t-shirt he found, stained with paint and dirt. He’s working on a duck, a pile on the floor next to him. He seems to not have heard you come in so you clear your throat.

He looks up from the duck he was working on. “O-oh hello darling, sorry I didn’t notice you came in, I was uh…” He glances at the duck. “…working.”

You walk up to his desk, setting his plate on it. “Yes, I can… see that..”You say, glancing at all of the ducks strewn across the room

“Oh- oh oh! Look what I made!” He says, picking up the duck he was working on proudly. “Presentinggg, the magictastical backflip ping rubber duck! That spits fire!” He says, in a showman type voice, smiling.

“That’s very nice honey…” You say, petting his hair.

He pauses for a second, and his face drops. “Who am I kidding this sucks!” He says, throwing it across the room with a sigh and looking down.

You look at him sadly, going behind him. “My love, I’ve noticed that you have been really on edge recently, you seem really depressed, and stressed..why don’t we take a break?” You say, rubbing his shoulders.

He looks at you with a fake confused expression, and lets out a fake laugh. “Haha! Me? Depressed? N-no way, I’m perfectly fine! I’m not stressed at all, I’m just uh… a little hyper that’s all! I’m okay!” He says, another fake laugh, obviously not okay.

“Darling we have been married for years now. I can tell your really worked up right now, why don’t we take a break and talk about it?” You say, going and sitting in his lap, resting your hands on his face, your thumb rubbing his face comfortingly.

He pushes his face against your hand, and looks down. “I… guess I have been a.. tad bit stressed recently…” He murmurs, still not used to people caring.

You give him a smile, and run your fingers through his hair and rub his back soothingly. This seems to calm him, as he leans against your chest and closes his eyes. You hum softly, continuing to comfort him.

After a couple moments you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shirt. “Hm? What was that hon?” You ask.

He turns his head still leaning on your chest, before hesitating. “T…thank you for staying with me and caring for me…”He murmurs.. cheeks a bit red, obviously a bit embarrassed by his vulnerability.

You smile and give him a kiss. “Of course love, now why don’t we go take a bath, no offense but you kind of stink.” He laughs, his cheeks going redder. “Yeah I think that’s a good idea.”

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My first ever request done! I hope it was up to standards, I’m not very good at writing comfort, hope you enjoyed!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer magne x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin

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kyaroscuro · 2 months ago

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All About You

Maybe it's all about you when your youth is filled with each other's names and your heart has never changed. That's what Juyeon finds out when he falls in love with his best friend.

pairing : bff!juyeon x gn!reader (+bf to ex!sunwoo) genre : fluff, bestfriends to lovers, slow burn, slight angst but happy ending warnings : swearing/cursing, sex jokes, implied sex, mention of burnout, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, pretty, baby) notes : it's been a long road but i'm happy to introduce y'all to my baby! i've been (and still am) obsessed with juyeon since the zeneration 2 concert and i guess i've had a lot to write about him... i hope you'll find out the few references i've managed to sneak in! enjoy ✧.* shout out to my dear @winterchimez for proofreading and helping me during the whole writing process, you were a great help <3 words count : 13745

No one ever told you how relationships work. So when you fell in love with your best friend Juyeon at 16, you felt a little helpless. Should he be the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? Was it wrong to lean on him when he welcomed you into his arms for a movie night? Eventually those feelings faded as you both started dating, and you wondered if it was even true love. Maybe the 16-year-old teenager you were was just attracted to the idea of being close to another soul, mentally and physically.

Maybe yes.

The only thing you know right now at 24, is that the feelings you had for Juyeon back then were nothing compared to the ones you have for Sunwoo today. The attention and love he gives you makes everyone jealous. Even Juyeon himself.

If he wanted to take you out to dinner, you would turn him down because you already had plans with Sunwoo. Arcade, karaoke, late night walks, picnics, fancy restaurants or fast food, you’re always together. Sometimes when you feel like staying in, Juyeon would show up, hoping to watch a movie like the good old days. But he’s met with Sunwoo at the door and doesn’t have the energy to see you being all lovey-dovey.

He knows better than to be a third wheel. As much as he understands the time you spend with your boyfriend, he can’t help but feel jealous and left out. You’re not trying to make him feel that way, you just needed Sunwoo’s presence.

The two of you met in your 3rd year of thesis. He was actually the student under your supervision for his end-of-studies internship. You obviously spent six months seeing each other and working together – in the lab, the library, cafes and even at home. You both grew closer in no time, and that’s only fair given the fact that Sunwoo is a living comedian. You don’t think you would have made it through the whole editing process without his support.

The funniest thing he had ever done was that he was proofreading your work while you did the same for his. Sure enough, you both graduated with the help from one another and a couple of kisses were shared.

From Juyeon’s point of view, those six months felt like an eternity. He had a girlfriend at the time and couldn’t really go out with you. You were both busy for different reasons, but still tried to see each other once a week. But when you did see each other, you always talked about Sunwoo and he talked about his girlfriend. That’s what your lives were made of, but it was a little heartbreaking that you were best friends who only talked about your partners.

“How’s the job hunt going?” He asked at one of your meetings.

“Great actually, I felt like giving up, but I didn’t endure those three years to throw it all away, did I? Sunwoo helped me a lot, he’s my lifesaver.”

Juyeon felt like throwing up, as if his heart had been stepped on the moment he heard those words, and he didn’t know why.

“What about you?” You asked him, cutting his train of thought.

Oh, he knew you were talking about his own job, which he quit a few months ago (more like he’s on a break because he’s burned out). But it’s not like he has to tell you; he doesn’t have the guts to anyway. He thinks you would be sad and angry with him, when all you really want is for him to be happy. And he’s also upset that he’s had to give up on his dream job because it was affecting his health. Thankfully, his boss has been kind enough to give him a chance to rest up for now. Maybe all he needs to keep going is your reassurance?

“We broke up.” He says quietly, looking down at his hands.

“I’m so sorry Juyo, aren’t you too sad?” You say as you reach out to him.

“To be honest, I am.” He admits, looking up at you, a small smile forms on his lips. “It was a mutual agreement, but I feel like I screwed it up. She said I needed to think about my own needs and wants.”

“And what do you want?”

“To spend time with you.” He says straightforwardly.

Your cheeks flushed at his sudden comment. Has he always been so honest?

“I’m free tomorrow if you’re fine with that? Sunwoo is going out with his band.” You say, eager to spend more time with him. “Oh, and Juyo; you should know that I will always make time for you. You’re a big part of my life and I care about you more than anyone else so please do not hesitate to reach out if you need anything. I’m just one call away.”

“I know that but I always seem to bother you.” He says, a little ashamed to think so.

“You don’t. What makes you think that?” You frown at his words, wondering if he actually meant them. “You have no idea how much I look forward to our weekly meetings! It keeps me going during the week, I swear, ask Sunwoo he only hears about you.”

“Oh,” he responded, feeling delighted with your words.

“Yes Juyo, I miss you a lot.” You gasped shyly, suddenly very focused on your hot cup.

“I miss you even more.” He looks for your eyes with a hint of fondness that you don’t notice, even when you raise your head to tell him,

“So tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he smiles, pleased to see you smile back with the same touch of affection.

When you think about it, you don’t understand how it is possible to break up with Lee Juyeon. You didn’t really know the girl he was dating, you never met her, you only saw her face in a picture once. But you do know your best friend, and he’s not the type to break someone’s heart. He would fight for the person he loves, even if it doesn’t work out. Juyeon is love personified. So how can you reject him?

Woo ☼ (3)

Sweetheart I miss you

When are you coming back home

I have a present for you

What kind of present?

Me ;)

OMW

Juyo <3 (1)

Thanks for today, I can’t wait for tomorrow. Pick you up at 10?

Will be pretty and ready!

Always pretty but ready? I’m looking forward to it

As soon as you read his message, your heart began to thump real loud and your cheeks immediately flushed red. Who are you and what have you done to Juyeon? When did he become so flirty? Or maybe he has always been like this and you never cared before. But why do you even care now?

When you were 16, you remember vividly how he kissed your hand goodbye because he was a gentleman and you were a darling. Everyone at school made fun of you for being so old-fashioned, but little did they know that you liked it. Eventually, when you turned 17, he dropped the act and started kissing your forehead instead. It was a hundred per cent worse. Your cheeks turned pink every time you thought about it and people were calling you out for being highkey on PDA and asking you to spare the singles.

Maybe then he was always this flirty.

It didn’t matter much to you because it was puppy love. The first man you ever loved. Until Sunwoo came into the picture.

“How was your date sweetheart?” You laugh into the kiss he greets you with.

“Pretty good, I think I’m developing feelings, I don’t know, he’s just so sweet and- Ouch Sunwoo!” You yelped, surprised by his sudden, somewhat erotic gesture.

“What?” He giggles innocently.

“You didn’t have to pin me against the wall, did you?” You ask rhetorically, knowing full well what his answer will be.

“I did,” his sparkling eyes turn to onyx, his tongue runs over his lips and his gaze travels up and down your body as he answers.

“Yeah?” You whisper, aroused by his deep voice.

“Yes.”

His plump lips are all over yours in an instant, taking your breath away. To deepen the kiss and emphasise his need to be closer, he grabs your legs so you can wrap them around his waist and welcome him in. Your arms wrap around his neck as you yield, kissing him back with passion and love. He doesn’t let go until you’re both out of breath, and then he kisses you again and again like a madman. Eventually, you’re so lost in the pleasure of his kisses that when you feel him nipping at your neck, you push him away, panting.

“I understand that Juyeon is your best friend,” he says with a heavy voice. “But you can’t joke about dating another man.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he runs his tongue over your lips before kissing you lazily. You stick out your tongue, waiting for him to resume his kiss. He chuckles at your behaviour but kisses you nonetheless.

“Good girl hm, are you hungry?” He utters with lustful and honey dripping eyes.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom then.” At his promise to take you to heaven, you nod eagerly, excited to see what he has planned for you.

You don’t quite remember what happened after that, too lost in lust and love. You felt the kisses on your forehead and the caresses in your hair before he left the bed.

Suddenly, nothing. All you felt was emptiness.

You turn to check your phone when you yelp in pain because your back hurts. Your man was a beast last night.

Wait.

9:30am?

You hurriedly get out of bed, taking in your dishevelled appearance and the hickeys Sunwoo had the courtesy to leave on your body. You’re ashamed to go out like this, because you know that you have little to no time to cover them up.

More importantly, Juyeon will notice them. It’s not that you cared about exposing your sex life, you have a lot of fun with Sunwoo and he’s the greatest in and out of bed. But for Juyeon to see you in such a vulnerable way? It does something to you and you can’t figure out why.

You never talked about your sex life with Juyeon although you are best friends; you two are kind of secretive. Sure, there were times when you complained that your exes were terrible kissers or that dates were horrible. But when it comes to any form of intimacy, it was out of the books. You both never joked about kinks, never asked about turn-ons. Yet, you shared your very first kiss with Juyeon when you were 16.

It was a bit messy and hilarious because you had no idea what you were doing. You remember how when he dropped you off after school or after a playdate, he had this cute habit of kissing your hand goodbye. It was also at that age when you started going to parties – a party between friends, no alcohol, maybe just some cheap beer that tasted like grass. But that was fun and it was also the time when you were introduced to love, through couples and kisses.

Love has always been a foreign language to you. You know for a fact that love is what your parents share with each other, through physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time, gifts but also through struggles.

But you also know that the person you’re closest to doing those things is Juyeon. You both were always cuddling, fighting over movies or places to eat. You both would also cheer, support and reassure each other.

You both would always have each other on your minds, sending texts, calling or buying sweet things. It’s only fair that you thought you were in love with him, isn’t it?

And that faithful night, at your birthday party, he thought it would be a great idea to carry you and run around in circles until he lost his balance and fell with you laying on top of him. You didn’t know what was going through his mind, but you saw flames in his starry eyes, and then he pecked at your lips. He brushed it off by pulling you up and wishing you a happy birthday but your heart was racing and so was his.

“Sorry Ju, I woke up late, I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you pout as you reached his car, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank god your prettiness makes up for lost time,” he jokingly hugs you, his hands laying a little low on your waist. “But you have to take responsibility for making me wait.”

“Juyeon! It’s been 5 minutes you can’t blame me for the delay!” You wriggle into his embrace and put your head in the crook of his neck, a little embarrassed but wanting to be close to him.

“I can, and that’s exactly what I’m doing,” he whistles, taking you out of his arms to observe the love bites on your fair skin. “Maybe you’d be on time if you hadn’t had so much fun last night.”

“Y-Yeah, I walked into a trap,” you stammered, speechless.

“The kind of trap you can’t refuse, I bet.”

And he opens the passenger door before giving you his hand to help you get in. You look at his hand and then straight into his eyes to understand where that confidence comes from, but he just smiles and nods.

“Come on, we have much to do before the carriage turns into a pumpkin.” He smiles and fights with the wind to tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

Spending time with Juyeon is one of the things you adore the most in the world. You were so used to spending your days with him when you were teenagers that you almost forgot what it was like. The princess treatment, the cafe dates, the shopping and giving opinions on outfits, the restaurants. Now that you’re all grown up, reliving those moments feels a little bit odd but great. After all, you’re the same people who dance to the music in every corner shop and laugh at every silly move you make.

Going out with Juyeon is also all about treats and gifts. You have this implicit rule that when you’re out and about, you’re encouraged to pay in turns – be it at the restaurants, bars or for desserts. And of course, he pleases you more often than you please him, but you tend to buy more things related to him – matching items or clothes that reflect his style.

“Look at this cute bracelet! We should get it to celebrate our 10 years offriendship,” you beamed, slipping the bracelet around his wrist without a word of protest to see how it looks.

“But it’s paired with a promise ring?” He comments, in case you haven’t noticed and had a change of heart.

“Then we can get the ring in another 10 years,” you giggle and squeeze his hand to reassure him that this is what you want.

Happy with your little joke, you went to the cashier to buy the bracelets. But it sparked something within Juyeon’s heart. He may be slow to understand, but you don’t have to tell him twice. You consider him to be your significant other. That’s what a promise ring means.

After all, you wanted to commit yourself to him for the rest of your life. You’re his best friend and that should be normal. It is normal to stick by each other’s side. But why is his heart missing a beat?

If you ask Juyeon about his relationship with you, he would describe it as “enchanting”. You’re the most important thing to him. Ever since he bumped into you in 3rd grade, you two have been inseparable. But there’s something that’s always bothered him.

In the beginning, he thought it was because you were the only one that he was really close to. He didn’t look at you any differently. But every time you smiled, he felt a twist in his stomach. Then he made it his goal to make you blush and to kiss your hand. It was thrilling to see you all flustered by his own actions.

He grew up and unfortunately that feeling never went away. In the end, he thought that maybe it was just the hormones. A 16-year-old boy needs to get to know his body and its needs. That’s what he did. Eventually the feelings vanished, but the uncomfortable feeling stayed. Even when he was with his ex.

He’s well aware that you are in a relationship with Sunwoo and that the two of you are in love. He’s never been happier for you. After all the people who have taken advantage of you, you deserve someone positive. Someone who will be there for you and will make you feel loved and truly fall in love. Like Sunwoo.

And yet, he doesn’t know why he’s so attracted to you. He needs to explore his feelings. At least to understand them. Even if it costs him.

“How about a drink?” He asks as the sun is about to go down.

“No, you need to drive safely.” You flinched, clearly against the idea of losing him in such a stupid way.

“What about my place? You know I have this amazing balcony overlooking the sea.” He offers in return with a smirk.

“Deal,” you say with gleaming eyes.

You love Juyeon’s apartment; it has a soft and romantic atmosphere and it’s even more beautiful when the sun goes down. The many plants he has turn a warm orange with the colours of the sky and you swear, it’s so beautiful, like a haven of peace.

“Red or white?” He asks, holding the two bottles out for you.

“Anything’s fine, choose for me please Juyo,” you sing-song, happy to share this moment with him.

While you are setting up his balcony table with candles and wine glasses, he returns with a red bottle and appetisers. He gestures for you to sit on the bean bag and pour the wine like a real chef. You whistle, impressed by his newfound skill. Furthermore, it wouldn’t be Juyeon if he didn’t do a little dance to make you laugh before handing you your glass.

Now that he’s seated, you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. It’s quiet, but you can hear the faint music coming from the living room speakers. Juyeon has never liked the silence, so he always needs to have some kind of background music to feel comfortable. He says it calms him down, especially when he’s nervous, and you have to agree with that.

But does that mean that he was nervous right now?

He never needed music with you, as he always said your voice was his own melody – the harmony he couldn’t get enough of.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling you out of your reverie.

You nod, knowing exactly what he means, and reach out to take his hand. He intertwines your fingers and, in the pink-orange hues of the sky you catch yourself blushing. You risk a glance to see him starring absent-mindedly into space and you seize the opportunity to stare him down.

His bangs, usually on his forehead are pushed back, giving him a more mature and sexy look. His eyes, in a beautiful crescent shape, shine with the intensity of the stars. His pretty nose sits up on his face, like a trophy ready to be claimed. And his lips. They’re curled into a gentle smile.

Without a care in the world, he runs his tongue over them and opens them as if he wanted to speak. But no sound comes out, except for the tongue he’s now biting. Suddenly, as if he was aware that you are looking at him, he turns to meet your gaze. Truth be told, you weren’t very discreet. His dark eyes hold yours, then move to your lips, and you see the faint beginnings of a smirk on his lips before he bursts into laughter.

“Like what you see?” He points out, all smug.

That fucker.

You slapped him playfully before you realised you were biting your lips. Yet, he still looks at you as if you were the one who hung the stars in the sky and shone in their place.

All of a sudden, his eyes turn mischievous and you find yourself in his arms as he leads you into the living room. He turns up the music, grabs the camera, puts on a pair of framed glasses and starts dancing. You joined him, because there is no world in which you wouldn’t follow Juyeon. You dance like you’re in a club, grab the wine bottle and shout the lyrics at the top of your lungs. Juyeon films you through the mirror and you play along, you’re the model, he’s the artist. Until he puts the camera in a corner to film the both of you and starts to dance an old choreo that you both did. You smile broadly and the night goes by like this. In between drinking and dancing.

At some point, you find yourselves taking a stroll, jumping and dancing around poles. Oh, but you’re not drunk! Juyeon took out his camera and kept filming you, laughing. The man was hyping you up, the street was your runway! And even though it was a little embarrassing, you had a lot of fun. Trust Juyeon to make you feel the best!

Around midnight, you were eating ice cream in the nearest park when your phone screen lit up with a call.

Woo ☼.

Oh, no. You forgot to inform him you were going out with yesterday’s activities.

“Babyyyyy,” he whines, sounding tired, “where you aaaat.”

“At Juyeon’s, we-“ You’re cut off as Juyeon steals your phone, brushing against your hands a little too long.

“Sorry,” he hiccups, “is it all right if we keep each other company for the night? I can’t drive right now.” Juyeon tries to apologise but is cut short by Sunwoo.

“Had a fun night I see?”

You can feel his anger rising from the way his voice drops an octave. Sunwoo has always been jealous of Juyeon. When you got together, he was very insecure at first, knowing that you had a male best friend and seeing you spend so much time with him. It took some time, but the trust you’ve built up has overcome that awful feeling.

You still have to reassure him sometimes, and that’s okay because Juyeon is your best friend and Sunwoo is your boyfriend. You love them both in different ways. You talked about it with Juyeon and later he got jealous because you spent all your time with Sunwoo on your trip to comfort him. It wasn’t easy, but they learnt to trust you. Along the way, you may have convinced yourself that everything would be fine.

“Sunny, baby, I’m sorry I didn’t inform you. I will sleep at Juyeon’s and be back first thing in the morning before you wake up,” you say in a soft voice, trying to soothe him.

“I’m sorry too,” he voices out, letting out a breath lost in his own emotions, “I panicked when I didn’t see you at home. But I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I know,” you sighed, glancing at Juyeon, “I’m in good hands, I promise.”

“Hurry back, I miss my goodnight kiss already.” He replies, seemingly content with the current arrangement.

“Will be there in no time,” you giggled.

“I love you,” he answers, a smile blooming in his voice.

“I love you too.”

He hangs up just as he called, smiley, which makes you beam in return. However, when you turn to face Juyeon he’s anything but smiling. In his frowning eyes you decipher a sombre mood. Something in complete contrast to the joy you shared tonight. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls it back before you can do so.

“We should head back, it’s getting late.” He says firmly.

Your heart breaks at his words. Without giving him a chance, you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. The hurt look in his eyes makes your heart swell. You scan him to see if he wants to answer, but he avoids you. You’re so close and yet so far away. You feel like throwing up, because your best friend never acted like this around you. He never once avoided you nor stopped talking to you. Thus, you did the only thing you can think of.

You hugged him, as tightly as you can.

You feel his heart pounding and wonder if it’s from the unknown emotions he’s carrying or from your physical touch. You put your hand on his broad chest to feel his heartbeat and plant a kiss on it to reassure him. It stirs something in Juyeon and he hugs you back so tightly you think you’ll lose your breath. He holds you in his arms for what seems like an eternity, your head nestled in the crook of his neck. But you don’t complain, you felt safe.

You stay there, in the warm embrace that contrasts with the cool of the night, squeezing him a little tighter when you hear passers-by whistling lovingly at you. When he lets go, you can see the faint pink colour that tints his cheeks, brought out by the street lights. But little did you know that you have the same colours on your face, if not stronger?

“You okay?” You ask as you rub small circles on his back.

“Yes I am,” he lies openly in a husky voice, “I’m okay.”

Juyeon is fucked. Completely screwed. He’s absolutely, unquestionably and sincerely in love with you.

He has been for quite some time, now that he thinks about it. But he never admitted it. That damned twist in his gut that never left his mind, he knows where it comes from now.

In order to cope with his newfound feelings he lets you use the bathroom first while he changes the sheets and tidies up the living room. He’s floating, not sure if he will ever get a wink of sleep. Especially if you both sleep in the same bed. Because to you, he’s just your best friend, the one you’ve slept with countless times. No strings attached.

He can’t imagine you in his arms, nor can he look forward to waking up by your side. You’re not his.

“Juyo?” Your tired voice echoes from the corridor. “C-Can I get some clothes?”

Oh. That doesn’t mean anything. You have always shared clothes. Then why was he so excited to see you in them? Right, because he’s madly in love with you and knows you will look ravishing in his big shirt. Also because sharing clothes is such an intimate thing couples do. If he lends you his current pyjamas because they have his scent on them, you couldn’t blame him. He’s just a man.

“Are you coming?” You inquire, walking towards him.

It’s worse than anything he’d ever imagined. The shirt is definitely too big for you going down one shoulder, showing the beginning of your chest and reaching halfway up your thighs. What’s more, your pretty thighs are covered by the shorts that rises up when you sit next to him. He looks away, embarrassed to be staring at you.

“I will sleep on the couch, don’t worry about me.”

“No way,” you retorted with little energy left, “your bed is big enough for both of us.”

He’s been acting strange today. First he was feeling all overconfident, then flirtatious, followed by anger, and now shyness and embarrassment. You take a piece of the blanket lying on his lap and you stretch your legs out on the sofa, letting your head fall on his shoulder. Sleep can wait, Juyeon can’t.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t lie to me.” You ask, breathing softly into his ear.

“No,” he shudders, with a faraway look in his eyes, “I’m not okay and I don’t know how to get through this.”

“What’s wrong Juyo? Do you want to talk about it?” You pause to gauge his reaction. “Is it about your ex?”

“More or less,” he breathes out. “The breakup wasn’t that bad, like I said, it was a mutual decision. It’s just- when you started dating Sunwoo I was so happy for you, happy that you found someone who was worthy of your love and loved you the right way. And I thought I would be happy if I found that special someone, I longed for it. But I ended up in different relationships throughout the year, never lasting more than two months. And that’s ok, maybe they weren’t the right person for me, maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe this, maybe that. I really thought I was going to be happy and I ended up getting my heart broken every time. As much as I believe now that I don’t deserve to be loved. I think I went into my last relationship in that state of mind, and I think she felt it too. Hard not to, is it? We had long talks and great times together; I think I really liked her. And I know she liked me back, I’m just not ready to be in an exclusive relationship right now.”

And everything he said is true, he’s more than happy for you and he thought he would be happy. But he can’t be happy in a relationship that isn’t with you.

“There’s also something I’ve never told you,” he continues, sniggering at the absurdity of his reasoning. “Something I should have told you a long time ago, it doesn’t make me proud, and it sort of reflects why my love life was so messed up. I can’t say it’s the only reason, but it played a big part in my mental health.”

You want to cry so badly, he has endured it all alone and it must have weighed heavily on him. At this point, you’re just waiting to speak and respond but every word that comes out of his beautiful mouth leaves you speechless. You’re such a bad friend that you’ve never noticed the way his eyes get dark and gloomy, or how he cancels your plans at the last minute because he’s got something else planned. When in fact it was sadness overload. Sure everyone has their own coping mechanisms, you wish you could have been there for him, but here you were Juyeon letting you in and you’re here to stay.

“It’s been two months since I was diagnosed with burnout and stopped working. It started off as something mild when I came home more exhausted than usual. I thought I wasn’t getting enough sleep but then I started to feel mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. It was hard to concentrate on my daily tasks and you know how much I love my job? I felt like I was going to die because I couldn’t even have fun doing what I love. Going out with you, my friends or my ex felt great, but I wasn’t as invested as I used to be.” He pauses to catch his breath and swallow back the tears.

“Don’t get me wrong, today was absolutely perfect and I was hyped, I still am. Today felt like going back to when we were sixteen and I loved it. I’m actually starting to feel better. The break up helped a lot because it was taking a toll on my mental health. I know I said I liked her and I did, but I couldn’t help but feel unwanted. Even when she was riding me,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

“And it hurts that I didn’t have the guts to talk to you about it because I was afraid of how you would react. Like, hello, I’m taking a break from work because I feel like shit? And I would really like to get your approval so that I can move on. Because you mean everything to me,” he ends shyly.

“Juyeon,” you say in a soft and caring voice, “you mean the world to me too.”

You continued. “You mean the whole world to me and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I could come up with something, but it wouldn’t make up for what you’ve been through. You are strong, stronger than anyone. It’s so hard to keep your head above water that I’m proud of you for speaking up and even stopping work. Because focusing on your health is the most important thing. Situation and money may go but I will always stay. I’m so proud of you, proud of who you are and who you’re becoming. You’ll never stop growing and I’ll be there every step of the way, watching you blossom and be happy.”

“And I know you feel like you’ll never be happy,” you resumed, holding his hand. “The only thing I can say is, as hard as it seems, everything you live makes you stronger. Even more beautiful. There’s someone in this world waiting patiently for you, to love you properly, to make you feel loved and wanted. You’re an exceptional person, Juyeon. By that I mean you go above and beyond the call of duty, you give your total support and care, you show up when something’s wrong and I bet you’re an even more protective lover. We did everything together, cried, laughed, smiled, loved. My youth was filled with you and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t happy because you were and are always by my side.”

“Today was the best time I’ve had in weeks, and that’s because I am with you. We danced, a lot. And you know how dancing has always been our escape,” you paused as you saw the first hint of a smile creep across his face as you continued. “I saw your smile, it was genuine and you were so beautiful. It may have been hard, you’ve been hard on yourself, but today the man I saw was happy. I’m happy because you’re happy, and I’m sad when you’re sad. We are one Juyeon, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, always.”

Long before you have finished speaking, he has taken you in his arms. His embrace is not heavy, but you can feel the weight on his shoulders lighten. You have so many feelings for him, they all blend together and you don’t seem to feel the butterflies in your stomach or the fire he has lit in your heart.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses.

“And what would I be without you?”

Your head rests on his chest and he’s suddenly afraid you can hear his heart beating. You’re so beautiful, your tired eyes fighting sleep and your lashes fluttering. His shirt slipped off your shoulder as he held you in his arms and the permanent smile on your face makes him completely weak. He could kiss you right now. If only you were single.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He caresses your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Together?” You cracked yet another smile.

“Together,” he grins from ear to ear.

Your arms find their way around his neck and you bend your head to make an implicit request. His hands go around your waist and below your knees before he stands up and carries you bridal style. You both laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but also blushed at the romantic gesture. He sets you down on (what his brain calls) your side of the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead.

He then goes through his nightly routine before coming back to you, wrapped in the covers, fast asleep. His heart is about to explode. Now that he is aware of his feelings, he is overwhelmed by the love he has been repressing. He slides in next to you and holds back from embracing you. And if you happen to get close and make your way into his arms, he’ll be delighted to hold you tight.

“Sleep well Starlight, I love you,” he mumbles, kissing your hair.

“I love you more Juyo.”

Waking up the next morning wasn’t as awkward as Juyeon might have thought after the pseudo-confession you heard. He woke up first when he felt you shift in his arms. Because yes, you ended up in his arms, face against his torso. He tried not to make a big deal out of it, calming his breathing and enjoying the warmth of your body. Absentmindedly, his hand caresses your tangled hair, smoothing it and slowly waking you from your slumber.

“Good morning Starlight,” he says, honey dripping from his hoarse voice. “Slept well?”

“Like a baby, you?” You yawned, looking up from his chest.

“Even better than a baby.” He doesn’t want to let you go, once you’re out of his bedroom he’ll have to go back to his little miserable life without your starlight to light it up.

“Shall we take you home? Your boyfriend might get impatient,” he laughs, remembering the events of the previous night.

“Well, he’ll have to wait until I’m full from breakfast! I know someone who makes pancakes to die for,” you winked as you get out of his clothes and disappear into the bathroom.

You know you said you’d be back before he wakes up, and you want to. You miss him. But being in Juyeon’s arms, feeling the regular beat of his heart, makes you feel at home. You don’t want to end what you both have now.

You eat breakfast in relatively silence, except when Juyeon tries to flip the pancakes in the frying pan only to have one stick to the wall. And you watch him adoringly from where you sit, trying to make up for his silliness.

In the end, you leave his apartment in no time at all, dreading your return to your own home. Even though you know that Sunwoo is patiently waiting for you. The last two days you spent with Juyeon were out of time, it was an enchanted interlude and the return to real life suddenly seems very difficult.

He drops you off in front of the building, not without kissing you on the cheek and saying goodbye for the last time. You try not to think of it as a date night as you head for the front door but he’s quick to say “We’re not done yet, you’ll see me more often now” he chimed as he watches you smile and gets in.

The smile doesn’t leave your face until you turn the key in the lock and come face to face with Sunwoo, smiling from head to toe. He takes you in his arms and spins you around before planting kisses all over your face.

“Sunny,” you giggled, “please.”

“But I missed you,” you press a kiss to his lips as he answers, and you feel him smile through it.

“I’m sorry I overreacted, you know I get scared easily, but I shouldn’t take it out on you when you haven’t done anything,” he apologised, bowing his head.

“No, it’s my fault too,” you shake your head. “We had a crazy night and when I woke up you were gone. I was also late and didn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“You know that I’m jealous of Juyeon, right? He might be your best friend, but he might see you as more than that. You can’t say you didn’t want him to wait, because what, you’re willing to make me wait like yesterday but not him? It’s unfair, because you always end up prioritising him.” He bellows, frustrated.

“Sunwoo please,” you begged. “Sunwoo, listen to me, please.” He takes a step back, feeling his anger rising.

“To say what? That you needed to be with him? That he needs you? Bullshit, look me in the eye and tell me he doesn’t have feelings for you!” He shouts in a pissed off rage.

He goes back into the living room and you follow him to see him pacing back and forth. You can tell he’s furious. He always gets angry when you mention Juyeon and it pisses you off. You can’t even spend a day with your best friend because he gets jealous? You’ve been together long enough to think he’s finally understood that he’s the one you love. But as displeased as you are, you’ll never stop telling him and reminding him that you love him. Because couples fight, because he’s insecure and because you care.

“You might as well develop feelings for him!” He spits vociferously.

“He broke up with his girlfriend and lost his job,” you drop, tired of this pointless battle. “So yes, he needed me. And yes, I needed to be with him. I feel like an absolutely shitty friend because I’ve been sitting in his company for weeks and I didn’t even notice that his heart was being broken to pieces. You can shout at me as much as you want Sunwoo, but you’re the one I love. Juyeon may need me again in the future and I’ll be there for him, but at the end of the day I love you and only you.”

“You’re lying. T-There’s no way he…“ He tries to take your hand but you step back, annoyed.

“Have I ever lie to you, Sunwoo?”

The sheepish and upset look on his face is enough to tell you that he’s blaming himself. So you lead him over to the sofa and tell him everything, from the break-up to his exhaustion, which means burnout, but leave out the private details. It’s a lot to take in, and you wonder if he’ll ever believe you. Why would you lie about something so important?

You love Sunwoo, you really do. But you can’t help but be a little irritated by his behaviour. You feel terrible for even thinking and feeling this way, but Juyeon is your best friend! What was wrong with that? What doesn’t he understand about the word “best friend”? You sighed as you take him in your arms and stroke his back, both to calm him down and to ease your own mind. You hold each other for a while, for as long as your hearts desire, but your minds wander to Juyeon. You miss him and you wonder what he’s up to, when you’ll see each other again. Another sigh escapes your lips and Sunwoo looks at you questioningly.

“Movie?” You ask, trying to divert your attention from Juyeon.

“It’s 11,” he chuckles, finally at peace.

“Yeah, so? We can order pizzas and spend the day at home?” You kiss his hand with doe eyes.

“Sounds like a fabulous idea,” he quickly grabs his phone to place an order, “same as usual?”

“I’m feeling adventurous today, so pick whatever you like!”

You hear your own phone buzzing as he focuses on the app again. And obviously it’s the boy of all the arguments, the one who’s been on your mind since you got home and who seems to be distracting you a lot.

Juyo <3 (1)

I miss ya, whatcha doing?

Thinking about u

That ain’t possible

Whyyyy

Because I’m thinking about you

“Who are you talking to with that smiley face?” Sunwoo asks, tilting his head.

“Changmin, he’s talking about the person he met and he seems so in love.”

It's a half-hearted lie, because Changmin told you about the person he recently met, but also because if you say Juyeon's name right now, civil war will break out.

Juyo <3

Oh yeah, prove it?

Seconds later, your phone rings with an incoming call from Juyeon.

Juyo <3

JUYEON YOU CAN’T DO THIS

YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME

Aw pretty’s scared by a sudden phone call?

Actually…

You take a second to answer, pondering if it’s a good idea to tell him about your couple’s conflict. Especially when he’s the one causing it.

Juyo <3 (1)

Am I disturbing you?

You always turn my world upside down

Same goes for you Starlight ;)

So?

I had a fight with Sunwoo

Nothing bad, we already made up

But it’s becoming a recurring thing, and I hate it

Have you talked about it?

That it’s getting hard for you?

Yes and no

We always talk about it, set limits and make up but weeks later it’s as if the conversation never happened

As much as I love him I’m tired Ju

No, you don’t have the right to say you’re tired, because that would mean you’re ready to give up on your relationship for a few fights?

I’m afraid that’s not a valid reason

And I know you’re not the type to give up on someone you love

So take matters into your own hands, spend the day with him and make out ffs

Yeah, haha, you’re right

We’ll eat pizzas and watch a film, that’ll definitely help

And I’ll see if he’s nice enough to make out with him

I can be good for you instead ;)

Yah! You’re losing points Lee Juyeon!

I’m only aiming for the 10s sorry!

Right in the bull’s eye

Which is my heart yes

GTG JUYO

TTYL I LOVE YOU

And I love you more <3

You saw his message through the notification, which you cowardly rejected, but that didn’t stop you from smiling. The conversation had to end quickly, as you were venturing into uncharted territory that doesn't leave you impassive. Besides, Sunwoo was getting suspicious of your big smile.

And he’s right, because what the hell was that? You’re such a coward whose heart beats a hundred miles an hour. He’s definitely winning points, but you’ll never admit it, and to what end? Your heart doesn’t know yet.

On the contrary, Juyeon’s heart beats wildly at your bravery. He doesn’t want to flirt despite his growing feelings, but you leave the door open too wide for him not to come in.

You’re still his best friend, so if you ever need advice or a listening ear, he’ll be there. Like that horrible joke about making out, he hated it. But he knew that it would make you laugh and feel better, because he knows you better than anyone else.

So why can’t he read your feelings? You're not usually so cryptic for no reason, he's sure of that. Yet the changes in your heart can be seen gradually: your sweet words, as well as the ambiguous ones, all carry a special and deep meaning. You’re a book Juyeon is dying to read, but you’re not descriptive enough for him to decipher just yet.

Sunwoo used to read you easily, but he’s not sure of anything anymore. He knows that you love him, that your love language consists of words of affirmation and that you never stop reminding him of it. And yet his insecurities always get the best of him and you end up fighting. The truth is, he’s afraid. You’ve always spent a lot of time with Juyeon and that’s fair, you’ve known each other for almost ten years. But shouldn’t you make up for that time with your one-year boyfriend?

He knows he can’t restrict you or your outings, that would be a dick move and he’s not a dick. You have lots of boy friends and he’s okay with that, but Juyeon? Juyeon annoys him. He seems too perfect to be true: his looks, his gentle and romantic nature. He’s in a one-sided competition because Juyeon couldn’t care less. Or so he thought until now.

Halfway through the film, you're cuddled up in his arms, laughing, when his phone vibrates. Why on earth is Juyeon texting him?

Juyeon (1)

I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. This is not a valid reason, but I wanted to keep my best friend to myself for a while. I’m sorry if that hurt you.

Apology accepted. We’re adults and you’re defo not the one to blame but I appreciate it.

Thanks man

It cost Juyeon a lot to send that message. But in his place, he would have been furious if the situation had happened to him. So he toned it down, to ease the tension and make you feel better. But he’d do it again any time; anything to spend time with you.

And that’s exactly what happened in the weeks that followed.

You spent the whole week with Sunwoo after your meeting with Juyeon, going with him to his band rehearsals, shopping for clothes, accessories or window shopping, going on dates to the cinema, the park and restaurants. You did everything with him.

But that didn’t stop you from texting Juyeon every day. Sometimes he was the one who initiated the conversation, and other times you had to spam him to ask his opinion on the latest clothes you bought or because you missed him. Your weekly outings have also become two or three times a week, and you often meet up on his balcony for a night of dancing and drinks.

Everything is done with respect for your relationship, but you feel his hands on you longer than necessary, always within limits and sometimes in places that make you blush. For an example, he would place them on your hips, and you would be a fool to say that his little touches did not make your heart flutter. When he opens the door for you, when he orders for you without asking and never makes a mistake, or even when he gives you presents that you’ve looked at with envy. He’s so observant and attentive that causes butterflies in your stomach. The more time you spend with him, the more you can’t deny the attraction you feel.

He makes you feel like you are 16 again.

He kisses your forehead, cheek or hand when he drops you off. He holds your hand so you don’t get lost in the crowd. Even if it’s just an excuse, you let him because deep down you want him to.

And you hated yourself for it. You feel so guilty about Sunwoo. Yes, Juyeon may be a little more enterprising than usual, but he hasn’t changed his ways. You’re the one who reacts to harmless words and lazy touches. But your heart hasn’t changed. You love Sunwoo. Those feelings for Juyeon aren’t real. It is an attraction that arises because you spend all your time together, because he’s handsome and cares for you.

You’re not… in love with him.

Isn’t that right?

“Sweetheart, I bought fried chicken on the way home!” Sunwoo says one day after his rehearsal.

“Oh Sunny, you don’t know how much I’ve been craving it,” you clap, looking forward to devouring it. “Thank you.”

“Can I get a hug for being the most awesome boyfriend ever?” He asks sweetly.

“Oh you do,” you giggle, jumping into his arms.

“I love you,” he kisses your nose.

“Me too,” you reply, tiptoeing to kiss his forehead.

“Sunnyyyy,” you call out his name on a Friday afternoon. “Can I go out for the night with Kev, Minnie, Chani and Ju?”

“Sure! Don’t come back too late hm? And be careful.”

“Yes! I’ve got the four horsemen of the apocalypse to look after me and myself!” You laughed.

“Have fun Sweetheart, I love you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“Me toooo Sunny,” you smiled.

And yet, as he does his best to be there for you, to shower you with love and care, you notice that your interactions are gradually diminishing. He’s not the problem but you are. Just like yesterday, you’ve been exchanging messages and at the end of all your conversations you have this cute habit of saying I love you. Except this time, you haven’t replied. You liked his message and replied with a heart.

But that’s not the only case, because you catch yourself not saying “I love you” back when you talk to him. Yet you’re still physically and intimately close. It’s as if you’re giving yourself to him in order to compensate for the emotional changes that you’re going through. And then what? You won’t even be able to kiss him? Hold his hand? Be intimate? You felt terrible, and this has been going on for months.

Perhaps the best (or worst) thing to do is to talk to him about it.

“Sunny? Can we talk?” You say out of the blue one morning.

“Yes baby, tell me?” He replies as he comes out of the bathroom, shirtless.

“Get dressed first,” you giggle.

“Why, don’t you like what you see?” He pouts, crossing his arms to emphasise his torso and you look away, ashamed to be turned on when you’re about to break his heart.

“Oh I do, but you’re distracting me from the point!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs as he pulls on a t-shirt, “is it better now?”

“Yes, thank you,” you sigh.

“Are you okay?” He asks suddenly, sensing your discomfort. “You know you can tell me anything, I’m here for you.”

“Sunwoo, I-“ you take his hand in yours for support. “You need to know that I love you, it has never changed and it will never change, the feelings I have for you are very much real and I cherish them as much as I cherish you.”

“You’re not breaking up, are you? Because I won’t let you.” His eyes are shining now and you want to go back in time. You want to erase everything that has happened in the last two and a half months, the growing romantic feelings and the hurt.

“Sunwoo, I’m not breaking up with you, you’re the person I care about the most in the world, I would never let you down. And I hate myself for what I’m about to say.” You take a deep breath and as you do you know he’s figured it out and tears start to roll down his sweet face.

“I- fell in love with Juyeon,” you drop your head in shame.

You don't have the courage to look up and see the disappointment on his face, but you force yourself to. And when you finally did, his reaction catches you by surprise. It was obviously pain and sorrow, but also resilience?

“May I ask, how?” His voice is low, almost a murmur, but his eyes search yours for the truth.

“I- don’t know, it just happened.”

“Come on, you don’t just fall in love with another man by accident,” he laughs sarcastically.

“And yet I did!” You raise your voice in annoyance. “I didn’t choose it Sunwoo. And I would go back in time if I could!”

He takes a minute to consider your words, to decide whether or not you’re telling the truth. You didn’t expect this conversation to be easy, but he doesn’t make it any easier for you. You expected him to be in denial, to yell at you and cry. Instead he went straight towards the acceptance stage and he had this heartless look on his face. You knew you deserved it because he’s right; you don’t fall in love with another man by chance.

“Does he know? That you-“ he struggles to find the words, but you let him, because it has been hard for you too. You’re in love with your best friend, and you’ve probably been in love with him since you were 16. “That you love him?”

“No, oh god no!” You panic, finally thinking of the consequences, “I wanted to tell you first because I love you and I owe you the truth.”

“But you intend to tell him?” He worries and suddenly you feel like you’re talking to your best friend, the same conversation you had before you started dating Sunwoo.

“No Sunwoo, it was never a question of telling him or not. Yes, I love Juyeon romantically, but you’re my boyfriend. And I’m not trying to fool myself by saying that I still love you, I love you. And I love Juyeon too, but I’m not going to do anything with it.”

“You’re silly,” he chuckles affectionately. “Within the two months since our fight, I’ve watched you for a long time baby. I observed your body movements, your facial expressions and your words, hoping that it was all temporary and that we’d come out of it stronger together. But all I saw was love, but towards someone else. You came home giddy, eyes full of stars. Sometimes even in a frenzy of exaltation from which I found it hard to pull you out, because knowing that you were happy made me happy. So I won’t say that I knew it, but I sensed it. And I know that you love me, I have never doubted it and I don’t doubt it now. But you love him silly. Perhaps even more than you love me. I’m not mad at you, I saw you falling for him, I just ignored the signs. And I know you didn’t choose it, nor did you want to break my heart. Your love for him is stronger and I can hear it. Thank you for telling me, it must have cost you a lot.”

You start to cry, because what else can you do but cry? You love him and it hurts you to hear him say that you love someone stronger. But he’s right. No matter how much you try to deny it, you love Juyeon unconditionally.

“Why,” you cry out.

“Why what baby,” he takes you in his arms, guiding your head in the crook of his neck and your tears start to soak his t-shirt.

“I’m pretty sure I broke your heart and stomped on it, so why aren’t you mad at me? Why are you taking it so well? I don’t understand. I feel like shit and you’re too perfect?”

“You have no idea of the pain, anger and emptiness I feel right now, I’m far from perfect,” his voice falters as he tries to hold back his tears, “but I can’t take it out on you, even though you deserve it, because you didn’t want it? Also because I didn’t speak when I realised you were drifting away. I know you blame yourself, and yes, I am heartbroken, I can’t wait to cry but I don’t want to make you sadder than you already are.”

“I don’t deserve you Sunny, I’m sorry, I love you to the moon and back,” you smile shyly.

“And I love you just as much, thank you for the love that doesn’t make me feel lonely,” he smiles back as he rubs your back in slow motions. “Can I kiss you? One last time?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

When his lips touch yours, it has never felt better. The kiss is a little salty because you have both been crying, but also sweet. It is your last kiss and you devour each other’s lips as if it were the first, not wanting to part. You quickly run out of air, but he presses his lips to yours to convey his feelings one last time and you smile, knowingly, as you kiss him back.

“You should go to him,” he says, lips swollen and eyes puffy.

“Yes, to be with my best friend. And you should call Eric for the same reason,” you sobbed, and he giggles.

“Coward,” he laughs, “but I will.”

“And Sunwoo,” you start again. “I would never do anything without your approval.”

“Thank you,” he replies, touched and aware of the feelings you will always have for him. “For everything, but especially for being with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you, my lifesaver,” you kissed his cheek as you take his hand in yours. “Let’s remain good friends, in the future.”

“Absolutely, if I ever get over you,” he laughs in a reassuring way.

You know that the joke is just his way of breaking the tension, so you laugh it off, saying that he should, and you imitated a knife at your throat as a warning, which makes him laugh heartily. Then, your heart sinks at the sound of you no longer being the recipient. Yes you fell in love with someone else, and it will be just as hard to get over him. But you have Juyeon, and he’s your rock.

Juyo <3

Juyo can I come over?

Sure, is something wrong?

These three words are enough to turn your heart upside down. He’s always been thoughtful, and now that you’ve accepted your feelings, you feel butterflies swirling in your tummy.

Juyo <3

Sunwoo and I broke up

I’ll pick you up in 5

Yes pls, drive safely

He pulls up in the parking lot exactly 5 minutes after his message, just like he said. You rush down the stairs, too eager to melt into his arms to wait for the lift. He doesn’t have time to get out of the car before you throw yourself on him, crying. Tears of separation and heartbreak, and tears of joy when you see him again because you know you love him.

“I’m here,” he whispers in a panicked voice, probably not expecting you so soon and in such a state. “I’m right here, let it out.”

And you do, the feelings you’ve been burying for 2 months are just waiting to be expressed. You cry until your body aches from lack of air and your eyes are dry. Finally, you shiver and regret having gone out so quickly without covering up. But Juyeon is just as quick to pull the jacket he was wearing over your shoulders and you hum happily as his scent washes over you.

“Let’s go home?” He caresses your hair tenderly.

You’re amazed that he doesn’t ask any questions, he just stands by you and supports you through this difficult ordeal that he knows only too well. And the truth is, he’s even sad for you. No matter how much he loves you, you’re the definition of love to him. For you to break up with Sunwoo, for whatever reason, doesn’t make any sense. It’s not his place to ask if you don’t tell him first, so he just holds your hand on the way back, and when he has to let go to change gear, he makes sure he puts it back on your thigh.

This makes you blush like a tomato, how dare he put his big hand on your thigh, almost completely covering it whole. You’re pretty sure your feelings are written all over your face, but he mistakes your blushing for embarrassment, when in fact it’s just romantic stimulation. You look up to see if his hand placement has any effect on him, only to find that he is blushing as well. Being as dense as he is, you mistook his shyness for embarrassment.

You two definitely make quite the pair.

“Make yourself at home Starlight,” he says as he opens the front door, never stopping to hold your hand.

You step inside as he tells you to and try to take off your shoes, planning to curl up on the sofa under the blanket while you wait for him and his hugs. But he had other ideas as he grabs your wrist to pull you closer, pinning you between him and the newly closed front door. Your surprise translates into a gasp that becomes a choke as he drops to one knee. Your heart pounds in your chest at the way he looks at you, worshipping you. Without warning, he bends down to untie your shoelaces, still smiling and even a little mischievous.

“What?” He smiles proudly. “Can’t I look after my Starlight?”

You open your mouth to speak but no sound comes out, too surprised by his playful tone.

“Cat got your tongue?” He sticks out his tongue as he stands up.

“Yes, you got it!” You slap him gently as a reward for nervousness.

“Not in my mouth though…” He whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and that earns him another slap, only he steps back to avoid your blow and you stumble and fall on top of him.

“I guess it will be easier to carry you now,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

He puts his arms under your knees and around your waist and you squeal as he lifts you up, bridal style. This man will be the death of you. Oh, how you would kiss him if you weren’t so heartbroken and hadn’t just broken up. And he would kiss you just as much. You’re both madly in love and it shows.

He wraps you in a blanket as he lays you down on the sofa before kissing your forehead for the umpteenth time. Then he goes into the kitchen and fetches your favourite foods, drinks and desserts, which he sets out on the coffee table. You were surprised by the homemade dishes, as if he’d made them with a special purpose in mind. But he doesn’t say a word or make a comment, he just slips under your blanket when he’s done and hugs you, breathing in your scent.

You stay in each other’s arms for a while, not saying a word, just enjoying your hearts beating in unison. It feels heavenly, relaxing and you can almost feel yourself coming back to life. If Sunwoo was your lifesaver, Juyeon is your guardian angel. He is always looking out for you and giving you his utmost special care, just like right now, for no particular reason (even if there is one now).

He doesn’t pry, he just waits for you to speak while he grabs the remote to put on the latest show you’ve started together and feeds you. You’re quite grateful for the little comments he makes during the show, distracting you from the truth: the burning love you have for him that consumes you. In the end, you tell him that you still love Sunwoo, but that your recent incessant arguments have taken their toll on you.

That, against all odds, you’ve spilt up properly. And that it will be a while before you move on, but that the door is not closed. You made sure to emphasise this part, because what if there’s a small chance that Sunwoo was right and Juyeon is a fool in love with you? You’re not ready yet, but when the time comes, you want to confess your love to him and live out the childhood romance you’ve always dreamed of, until death do you part.

The next few of weeks passed in a blur, and you have basically settled into Juyeon’s apartment – going back and forth to your house to pick up your things and put them in his closets. Your shoes sits nicely in the new shoe rack he bought for you to go out together, and your toothbrush sits proudly next to Juyeon’s. You even have matching ones. Oh, and Juyeon can finally happily say that you’ve got your side of the bed, with your cute belongings on the bedside table and a picture of the two of you at 16 in a frame.

In fact, you slowly become a domestic couple-like going grocery shopping together and going on so-called dates. Life with Juyeon is easy. Whether you go out at dawn or dusk, he’s always with you, matching your pace and holding your hand from the streetlights to the dancing starlight. When you saw your hands touching and your steps overlapping, it reminds you of your first encounter and the fluttering of your heart. How you shyly looked at him, only to see him already looking at you lovingly, red on his cheeks. That cold winter you spent together was actually the warmest moment of Juyeon’s life, and that day might have been the day you hid a present for each other in your sleeve.

Even more slowly, your relationship with Juyeon develops as the months go by. It was hard not for it to blossom, considering the fact that you live together and that you absolutely do everything together, but it’s happening. Juyeon has started to walk around bare chest when he gets out of the shower and sometimes! He even goes to bed naked, with just his pyjama pants hanging low on his hips.

Of course, you get to snuggle up against his warm chest and cuddle to sleep. When it comes to sleeping, you don’t even try to fall asleep on your own side of the bed anymore because you always wake up in each other’s arms. You have definitely grown closer and closer in just a few months.

Your touches with one another have become more sensual and romantic and your words more flirtatious. You wear his clothes more often than usual, sometimes getting out of bed in just his t-shirt and underwear, awakening certain feelings within him. From time to time, he dares to put his hands under your (his) t-shirt and kiss your forehead tenderly, for lack of being able to kiss your lips sensually and make you his, right when you wake up.

“All pretty for me hm?” He said the first time you went to sleep in this garment. “You know I’m just a man.”

And if you sat on his hips to cuddle him afterwards, maybe the message got through. Maybe a little too much, given that a few minutes later he pretended to be in a hurry and the water ran for a long time. He’s just a man.

Yes, your man.

Another time, when you were out shopping at the mall, people addressed you as a couple and you didn’t mind, oh no. Perhaps it was the smiley eye contact you made, or the way he held you in his arms and you leaned into him, almost as if you were going to kiss, that gave it away. At least, that’s what gave Sunwoo, who was watching you nearby, the courage to send you a message.

Woo ☼ (1)

Hi, hello! I saw you at the mall with Juyeon, can we talk? I’m with Changmin, we can ditch them together?

Hi Sunny!!! Sure we can, the cafe nearby?

Juyeon was a little reluctant to leave you alone with Sunwoo due to the countless nights you spent crying and the difficulty you had opening up (not to mention your blossoming love for Juyeon) but he quickly gave up because he knew you wanted it and he was happy to spend time with Changmin. Juyeon is the love of your life and you can’t pretend that he isn’t anymore.

“Hi Sweetheart, I saw you left your shopping bags with your man,” he laughs and you kick him under the table so as not to draw attention to yourself.

“Stop that Kim Sunwoo!” You whine.

“Stop what? Calling you sweetheart or calling him your man?”

“Both!” You laugh embarrassed and shy.

“How are you?” He changes the subject after one last laugh and you’re happy to see that he hasn’t changed, he’s still as playful and lively as ever.

“I’m fine, nothing has really changed since our last messages. I told you I got my dream job, so Juyeon and I are treating ourselves with my first salary. Oh, and Juyeon has also found a new job he’s really enjoying. Hence, the reason why we’re out shopping.” You went on to rave about your everyday life, happy to share this new chapter with him, whom you still love very much, just not romantically anymore.

“You must love him a lot,” he says softly, almost as if he were muttering to himself. “It’s cute, you’re cute, I’m happy for you.” And you don’t answer, curious to hear what he’s going to say next.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the past six months,” he begins. “Thank you for always reaching out to me and not ghosting me despite the break-up, it meant a lot to me. Being away from you has been hard. I will not lie. But it also taught me that I was too dependent on you and it felt great to spend time by myself and with our friends. I got news from them and saw that you were doing well, as anyone going through a break-up would be. And it made me realise that, if you were fine, I should be fine, even if it was just a facade, that somehow the sadness would pass.”

You nod to let him know you’re listening and that you’re on the same wavelength as him.

“And it did,” he whispers almost happily, as if the weight he was carrying close to his heart has been lifted. “I thought I would love you for the rest of my life, but then I met someone.” You gasp at his words and tear up a little.

“It came as a blessing, without me even looking for it, and I can say that I’m happy now. So when I saw you so happy on Juyeon’s arm, looking at him lovingly like he hung the stars in the sky I thought: “Ah, you’re really on cloud nine with him”. I shouldn’t hold you back from your happiness. You have my blessing, not that you need it but date him, kiss him, make love and live happily ever after.” To emphasise his words, he squeezes your hand which he has started to hold somewhere in his monologue, and kisses it.

You swear you didn’t want to cry, and Juyeon will probably be worried to see your swollen eyes, but how can you remain impassive in the face of so much love? It’s true, you held back and would have kissed Juyeon if it wasn’t for Sunwoo. But now you’ll both be happy.

You chatted for quite a while, enjoying your reunion as friends, learning more about the person he had met and ranting about your life with Juyeon, when he appeared before you with Changmin, impatient to get you back. You missed him. How did you manage to live without Juyeon so far? Ecstatic, you jump into his arms and bid your goodbyes promising to meet again soon. As you walk away, Juyeon’s phone beeps and he just shrugs at the message in his inbox with a smile. Then he ruffles your hair, earning a pout from you that he kisses away at the corner of your lips. You wonder what the message was, but the kiss is definitely more important.

Sunwoo (1)

I’ve seen the way you look at each other, it’s full of love. Give it a shot!

Yes, there will be many more kisses now.

And here you are today, on Juyeon’s couch, enjoying your home date for the tenth anniversary of your friendship, with Sunwoo’s blessing in the back of your mind. You spent the day cooking together, sweet and savoury, having fun with the shapes of the cakes and pizzas (hearts and dicks like the children you are), playing games, dancing and listening to music in a good-natured atmosphere.

Today’s a day to celebrate your friendship. Yes friendship, when all you want to do is kiss him senseless. Maybe confessing today is not such a bad idea. Especially when you see him coming out of the shower in all his glory, beads of water running down his naked torso, hair tousled and wet, tongue running over his lips sensuously as he looks you straight in the eye, ready to pounce on you. Oh, and, his cinnamoroll pyjama pants, low on his hips and revealing the Apollo belt of his abs, make you smile as much as it turns you on.

Juyeon takes his place between your legs, smiling, his hot muscular back resting on your chest as he lays his head back on your shoulder, dampening your matching melody pyjamas. He chuckles as he turns his head to see you gawping. His big veiny hand that had been squeezing your thigh flies to your cheek, turning your flushed face towards him so he can kiss the pout at the corner of your lips. His beautiful lips linger a little longer on your neck, but you welcome his touch with open arms and lean into his embrace.

His eyes are full of stars when he rises from your embrace to grab the remote and turn on your series. But he remains seated between your legs, unconsciously resting a hand on your knee to preserve the intimacy you’re so immersed in. You help him on with his t-shirt, not without kissing his shoulder first, making him shiver. And your hands take the opportunity to wander down his torso to his waist, making him smirk as well. You become more and more adventurous, he loves it and can’t wait to run his lips all over your body, discovering all of it.

You place a kiss on the crown on his hair and when you notice that it’s already dry, an idea crosses your mind. Juyeon’s focus is back on the show, so much so that he can barely feel your hands playing with his hair. You give him a rather pleasant massage, moving down to the small of his chest, across his neck and up into his hair, twisting it between your fingers.

“How does it feel?” You murmured in a hushed tone.

“Heavenly,” he moans.

The tension is palpable as you continue your services, your hearts beating wildly, almost as one. He takes one of your hands in his to kiss it, the attention making you blush, before replacing it in his hair and nodding for you to continue. So you undertake one of the most romantic acts of love in your eyes, braiding his hair. Strand by strand, your fingers caress the edges of his face. The braids come undone as quickly as they are made, but he smiles broadly as he touches them, feeling butterflies in his stomach and his heart beating erratically.

“I could see our everyday life like this,” you whisper in his ear. “Together.”

Juyeon, who had been purring at your display of affection, becomes still when he hears your words. He slowly turns to face you with the most charming smile and tenderly takes your hand to place it on his chest, where his heart burns with love. The fire in his eyes burns inexorably, lighting up his already sunny face, unable to leave him. You’re captivated by this intensity and he doesn’t look away, also in love with your sparkling eyes, even when he reaches out to grab a little box that has always been right in front of your eyes. Yes, his love has always been on display. You were just too slow to catch on.

But you get it now. You’re two fools in love.

“You know how our youth is filled with each other’s names?” He says, voice a little hoarse and heart beating fast under your palm. “Well, my heart has never changed, I’ve always wanted to be with you. You are my breath of fresh air, the warmth that keeps me going through the winter, and the words I’m about to tell you will never melt away. My everything is all about you, it has always been about you.” He pauses to take a deep breath and kisses the palm of your hand, which he then links with his own, intertwining your fingers.

“I love you,” he sighs with love and happiness. “I love you so much that I was reading my destiny inside your eyes without even knowing it.” The flame of love he has carried all these years dances in his eyes, making him irresistible and captivating. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you wait for his question, palpitations he feels through your bound hands.

“Would you be mine?” His gaze, dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, is determined as he opens the velvet box to reveal two rings. Not just any rings, the matching promise rings to the bracelets you bought months ago. The ones on your wrists that you’ve never taken off.

As if on cue, as a sign of future commitment, he kisses your left ring finger and places the ring on your right with such tenderness that you almost cry. No, you’re pretty sure tears are rolling down your face because he puts his thumb under your eyes to gently wipe away the tears and kisses the salty drops that have run down your cheeks, close to your lips. With that, you mirror his actions by kissing the ring, his left ring finger and placing it on his right finger with a dazzling smile, as an unspeakable promise – that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together.

“I have always been yours. I love you Juyeon, so much that I’m going crazy.”

Even now, after confessing his feelings and hearing yours, he remains respectful and lets you make the first move with a victorious smile. You grin, feeling the cool material of the ring on your cheek as he cups your face in his hand, reminding you that this is all real and that he loves you.

And he does.

So you finally lean in, closing the gap between you to rest your lips on his. It was meant to be a soft and quick peck, but he captures your body and deepens the kiss, years of longing and wanting not to be wasted, leaving you breathless. His lips search yours every time you pull away, not wanting to let go, intoxicated by your lips and this new closeness. If you spend the rest of the evening making out and exploring each other, no one will say a word. Not even your neighbours.

Ah, you’ve never been in love and wanted to be with anyone as much as you do with him, and this since you were 16.

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