#I was supposed to be a trainee for this week

[jukkaricity]

Rook Appreciation Week - Day 2 - de Riva

I actually wanted to write this thing out for a while, so thank you so much for this opportunity! This is before Viago became the Fifth Talon and there's about 13ish years of difference between him and Hugo I imagine, so Viago would be about 24 here.

@rookappreciationweek prompts for today: de Riva: Poison | Treviso | Resistance

Viago de Riva was, must have been, the scariest man alive. Scarier than the Crow instructors, any Heir or even the Fifth Talon himself. If asked at that moment, 11-year-old Hugo would have probably said that he’d rather face the Maker in the flesh than this suspiciously calm and glaringly overdressed man. The sentiment didn’t truly leave him for years—though the reasons for it shifted faster than a court debutante’s affections. 

To make matters worse, he was soaked to the bone — a trail of tiny puddles followed him from the window he used to sneak inside. His curls were uncombed and possibly still had leaves sticking out of them, not making his case any stronger. The other fledglings, now huddled at the edge of his vision, were all snickering, waiting for a show to be made out of him. Suddenly his carefully devised plan to awe the rising star of House de Riva seemed incredibly stupid and childish. He was eleven already. He should have known better. 

His grip around the armful of delphinium flowers tightened and he glared at the tips of Viago’s polished shoes as if they were responsible for the whole ordeal. Or as if he could see his future in their nearly unnatural shine.

None of this was supposed to happen this way. He intended to sneak past the training ground and change but he must have taken even longer than anticipated, because Viago was already there when he arrived, a gaggle of the trainees lined up around him, trying to offer him a gift and garner his attention. Viago’s birthday had been the talk of the fledglings for weeks. The opportunity to be his direct protégé–a promise of immediate elevation in the strict hierarchy. 

No one wanted to miss a chance like this. 

“So? Speak up or stop wasting my time.” Viago scoffed, tapping his ornate cane against the wooden floor with a loud click. Hugo barely managed to keep himself from jumping up. Right. He had said he could explain. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. The first impression was already ruined, but maybe he could still salvage it. Or at least avoid getting punished.

“Master Alessio told us it’s your birthday. And that we should impress you,” he recited and Viago’s brows came together in a deep frown. He looked deeply displeased, but said nothing. Instead, with a tired sigh he schooled his expression back into a picture of cold disinterest. Not a good opening sign. “I… I heard you talking about needing to restock your poisons. Something for paralysis?” 

Hugo looked up at Viago hoping to gauge his reaction. The man's face was entirely unreadable, however, to quite a disturbing degree. If Hugo was to hazard a guess, he’d call him bored, but he’d been with the Crows for long enough to know that this usually meant anything but the lack of interest. He kicked the heel of his shoe into the floor a couple of times and continued, words escaping him faster and faster the longer he spoke. 

“So I, well, I looked up some recipes and then I remembered I saw the flowers from one of them in the gardens of Villa Otranto, so I went there, but they keep hounds on the ground and I couldn’t get in, but the lady there hosts a luncheon every Thursday and the hounds are caged then…”

“It does not explain why you look like… this.” Viago seemed to reach the end of his patience as he interrupted the story, the tip of his cane drawing a little circle in the air pointing out to his less than perfect attire.

“I thought that the party would start earlier, but the dogs were out the entire morning. I’ve been waiting for them to get locked up and then it was already too late for a change of plans,” he admitted. There was no point making up an excuse. “I had to avoid the guards. Ended up hiding in a pond.”

“And they didn’t see you?” 

“No… No, I don’t think so.” 

The room fell silent as Viago weighed the story in his mind. He compared the clumsy, if at least tangentially useful, gift of Delphinium to the array of offerings ranging from offensively plain daggers to a ridiculously impersonal collection of sonnets. All things considered this could have been the best thing anyone ever offered him, even if the bar was already extremely low.

Viago scowled, looking Hugo up and down. The fledgling was rather graceless and heavy-handed, possibly yet another failing of the House under the current leadership, but at least he had some brain between his ears. And if the still reigning Fifth Talon saw fit to name Viago a “Young King” and insisted he needed “a court” to abide by his every whim… he may as well make the best of it. 

Viago adjusted the straps holding his gloves in place and taxed Hugo with a final, judging look. Small and scrawny. Didn’t flinch, though. With the right guidance… he might still turn out acceptable. 

“First lesson: Never put all of your eggs into one basket.” Viago said, still looking down at Hugo from the tip of his nose. The young elf could swear however that the perfectly still features on the assassin's face eased off just a little. Almost imperceptibly so. 

“And the second?” he risked asking, before really considering potential consequences of speaking to a Master without permission. 

“How to extract the poison out of these plants. If you thought all you had to do was drag them here you were wrong.”

He spared the elf no further looks and moved towards the staircase leading up, to the quarters of the fully fledged Crows. Hugo trotted right behind him, flowers still tightly pressed to his chest, not wanting to give him any reason to regret his decision. 

Whether Hugo was about to spread his wings and fly or have them mercilessly clipped was yet to be seen. 

[noirscript]

ICYMI: Taking requests for 1.5k+ celebration! Delivery will be very slow due to my new job, but will do my best to fulfill them whenever time permits. 🌻

It doesn't have to be very detailed, okay? It could be a general idea (even just the pairing). Or leave some space for me to play around it, yeah? 😉🤭

Heads up!

I'll be inactive for about a week. I got a job now! 🥹 Anyway, I've updated the masterlist, feel free to re-read them. Sovereign's Reign will still be worked on behind-the-scenes.

I'll still update whenever I can. Feel free to send your requests (might take time). Label them as 1.5k+ celebration (It'll take me a while to fulfill them all, but maybe I'll schedule post some of them or something).

Thanks for sticking with me as always!

[orcelito]

I just desperately miss being able to be silly at work y'all my boss has been so staunch about no downtime ever and it's really cramping my style 😭😭😭

[chqnified]

I need my own documentary. I'm so fucking entertaining. And not even on purpose.

[smartichokes]

.

[dclovesdanny]

Dead on Main

4/5

Jason had always loved the drawings littering his arms. As soon as he knew how to write and had markers, he would write notes to his soulmate. He knew Danny like the back of his hand. Danny was the first person he said good morning too and the last person he said good night too.

He barely managed to scribble out a message to Danny before he died, apologizing.(He prayed Danny forgave him for leaving him alone.)

After Jason was resurrected, he didn’t know what to say to Danny. Danny still wrote on his arms, and Jason would be lying he said he didn’t look over those notes and feel tempted to write back. But Danny deserved better than what Jason could give him.

(the only person Jason ever showed the notes to was Damian. He would let the little Demon trace over them silently as he explained. He knew the league’s policy on soulmates was not kind. He hoped Talia would be kinder to the kid)

Then the writing started getting sloppier. The notes became those of a vigilante, the one thing he had hoped his soulmate wouldn’t have to be. Jason wasn’t supposed to leave the League. Jason should be working towards his revenge on The Joker, his plans for Gotham.

But then Danny wrote about Vlad. About the creepy guy that made his insides crawl and Jason couldn’t keep himself from clenching his teeth.(all of the trainees got used to Jason having some days where he was worse than others. Sometimes, the pit would rage inside of him at the thought of Lasters, but oddly enough messages from Danny seemed to ground him and make it harder for the Pit to control him)(maybe that’s why the league didn’t approve of soulmates.)

It was when the writings stopped that Jason really got worried and started preparing to leave. Talya caught him quickly, but was surprisingly willing to let him go. Her only request was that He took Damien with him. (Sometimes, he noticed how Talia wore the same sleeves that he did. He wondered sometimes if Talia only pretended not to have a soulmate.)

The last message that he got from Danny was the one that made him leave three weeks earlier than planned, with a demon child to his back, and guns ready to fire.

I never expected to be a teen dad. I’m kind of scared, but like hell I’m letting the fruit loop raise these kids.

I wish you were raising them with me.

[scoupsakakitty]

When Love Smells Like Tangerines | idol!Seungkwan x Reader | angst fluff

Guys, if you haven’t watched When Life Gives You Tangerines yet, go watch it. I just had to write a story about Seungkwan this drama truly inspired me..🍊

Jeju always smelled like tangerines. And for Seungkwan, that scent had always meant home—sunlight dripping through trees, wind tangled in the corners of childhood, and a voice. Her voice. The girl with tangerine-stained fingers and eyes full of storms.

He loved her first. She let him go first.

They were inseparable once—neighbors, best friends, the kind of love that grows like roots, so deep it takes part of you when it’s ripped out. Seungkwan had been ready to stay, to anchor his life in her. Until she told him not to.

Until she broke his heart on purpose.

Jeju, 8 Years Ago

It was supposed to be their last walk through the orchard before he left for Seoul. Seungkwan had been buzzing for weeks—he’d passed the auditions. He was finally going to be a trainee. He was going to become an idol. The island wasn’t big enough to hold the size of his dream anymore.

She waited until they reached the hill overlooking the sea.

“I’m not coming to the station tomorrow,” she said. Her voice was flat. Cold. It didn’t match the way her hands trembled behind her back.

Seungkwan frowned, confused. “Why not? I thought—”

“I don’t want to see you off.”

His chest tightened. “Y/N…”

“I don’t love you, Seungkwan.”

It was like the wind stopped.

“You… what?”

She didn’t flinch. Her eyes stared straight ahead, not at him. “I never did. You made all of this up in your head. I would never marry someone like you.”

He took a step back like she’d slapped him. The words cut deeper than she could ever know. Because he had wanted that. A future. With her.

“Don’t follow me,” she added before walking away.

He didn’t see the way her hands covered her mouth the moment she was out of sight. He didn’t hear the way she broke down behind the trees, sobbing as if something vital had been ripped from her chest.

What Seungkwan never knew was what happened the night before. When his mother visited Y/N alone.

“He’ll never leave if you stay by his side. You say you love him? Then don’t ruin his future.” “He’ll thank you one day, when he's living his dream in Seoul. But if you hold him here, he’ll regret you for the rest of his life.”

And like a fool in love, Y/N believed her.

Seoul, Present Day — Chuseok

The house was full of laughter and the aroma of grilled meat, but Seungkwan felt a disconnect. He smiled when expected, poured drinks, answered questions about schedules, promotions, concerts—but something inside him never quite settled. Even after all these years.

The ache never left. Not fully.

It returned every time he saw a tangerine. Every time a melody reminded him of her laugh. He never reached out. He never forgave her. But he never stopped loving her either.

Later that night, long after the celebration had died down, he passed the kitchen and overheard something that shattered his world.

“You still think you did the right thing?” his father’s voice cut through the silence.

“She would’ve held him back,” his mother snapped. “And look at him now! He’s happy, isn’t he? Living his dream.”

“You don’t get to decide whose love is a burden!”

Seungkwan stood frozen. The air drained from his lungs.

“She loved him. She gave him up because you made her believe it was for the best.”

There was silence.

Then, his mother’s voice again, softer this time. “I did what I thought was right… I just wanted him to fly.”

But Seungkwan wasn’t flying. He was falling.

He stormed into the living room, eyes blazing.

“Is it true?” he demanded.

His parents turned, startled. His mother paled.

“Seungkwan—”

“Did you tell her to lie to me? Did you tell Y/N to break my heart?”

His father looked away. His mother stepped forward, trembling. “It was for your own good—”

“You don’t get to decide that!” he shouted. “You took her from me! You took everything!”

“She would’ve held you back—”

“She was the reason I wanted to succeed in the first place!” His voice cracked. “I would’ve left anyway. But I would’ve left knowing I had something—someone—to come back to.”

His fists clenched at his sides. “Do you know what it’s like? To wake up every day and wonder why the person you love suddenly hated you? I lived in that pain because of you.”

“I thought you’d be happy—”

“Don’t you dare.” His voice dropped, venomous. “You don’t get to say that after what you did.”

Silence.

And then he turned and left.

He already knew where she lived.

He had known for years.

Seoul, Present Day — Her Flower Shop

The bell above the door rang with a soft chime as Seungkwan pushed it open, the autumn air following him inside. The scent hit him instantly—peonies, jasmine, chrysanthemums… and something citrus, tucked into a vase on the counter.

She looked up, her hands full of wrapping paper, her expression freezing mid-motion.

He stood in the doorway, chest heaving, hair tousled from the wind and rage.

“You lied to me.”

The scissors fell from her hand.

“You told me you didn’t love me,” he continued, stepping forward. “You said I was nothing to you.”

“Seungkwan—”

“You said you would never marry someone like me,” he spat, voice cracking. “Why? Why did you say that?”

She couldn’t speak. Her hands trembled, gripping the counter.

“I heard them. My parents. They admitted it. They forced you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “It wasn’t—”

“You let me hate you!” he shouted. “You let me suffer all these years thinking I wasn’t enough!”

“I had to!” she cried. “I thought— I thought it was better that way!”

“For who?!”

“For you!” she screamed. “For your dream! Your life in Seoul! I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed behind and regretted everything.”

He stared at her, chest heaving, rage mixing with heartbreak. “You were never the reason I would’ve stayed. You were the reason I wanted to leave and come back.”

She looked away, tears spilling.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t. I was a coward. I let them convince me it was love, sacrificing you.”

He stepped closer.

“I loved you,” he whispered. “I still do.”

Her breath caught.

He let out a laugh, broken and raw. “Do you know how pathetic that is? After everything? I still love you.”

She sobbed. “I never stopped loving you either.”

The silence after was deafening.

Outside, the wind stirred the leaves. A tangerine rolled off a nearby basket and hit the floor with a soft thud.

They didn’t kiss. Not right away. It wasn’t that kind of reunion.

But something had cracked open.

That night, they sat on the floor of her flower shop, surrounded by petals and memories, telling the truths they had buried for years.

He told her about the nights he cried backstage after concerts. She told him about the birthdays she spent alone, watching his interviews on TV.

And for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt to say his name. It didn’t hurt to hear hers.

Epilogue — One Year Later, Jeju

There was a new house on the hill, overlooking the sea.

Inside, a vase of tangerines sat beside a framed photo—two kids, laughing under the sun, eyes bright with something eternal.

Seungkwan walked into the room, holding a bouquet.

“Customers keep asking for that ‘Y/N special’ arrangement,” he teased.

She smiled, setting down her sketchbook. “Well, maybe you should hire me full-time.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Only if you promise not to break my heart again.”

“No promises,” she whispered, turning in his arms. “But I’ll never lie to you again.”

They kissed, soft and sweet. Outside, the wind carried the scent of tangerines.

And this time, it wasn’t bitter.

[darkbluekies]

Dr kry x nurse reader

Like imagine nurse reader was college student wanted to be a nurse to learn some medicine or help people sick and taking care old people

Sea sick

Doctor!yandere OC x nurse!reader

Summary: being the only one to be granted as Dr Kry’s apprentice on board a hospital ship ends in tragedy

Warning: yandere, sinking ships (fictional ship and incident), poisoning, indirect killing, mentions of dead bodies and autopsies, blood, sharp objects

Word count: 8k

A/N: a lot of people hav wanted a story where darling is a nurse and I have tried writing it so many times over a year, but haven't been able yo. So I tried changing location and it seemed to work, so it is not exactly what was asked, but I hope that it is enjoyable anyway!

He stands on the promenade deck, watching out over the harbor, breathing in the fresh air. People carried on stretchers catch his eyes. 

He used to get sea sick during his first weeks out at sea. There was something about how the ship rocked back and forth during the stormy days that made his stomach turn inside out and want to eject the food he had eaten. But now that he's been here for three months, it's barely noticeable. He hasn't thrown up for three weeks. A new record. 

He has grown to like the rocking motion of the sea, but doesn’t care much for the people he shares the ship with. The female nurses try to invite him into their cabins, the male nurses fight over who will be his apprentice and the doctors either watch him with jealousy or ignore him. It’s only for a few more months, until he has saved up enough money. Until everything is over. 

They’ve just picked up a town hall full amount of wounded soldiers and new nurses. Doctor Kry has heard that his new trainee will be among them. He scans the crowd of people walking towards the gangway, trying to guess which one will be his to deal with. He hopes that they are obedient — he has no interest in scolding them — and that they aren’t stupid. 

“Watching the fresh blood?” a voice asks. 

He turns to the side to see one of the other doctors coming out to look at the new herd. Doctor Hart is an asshole, always in everyone’s business. One could almost think that he was getting paid for it. 

“You could say that”, Doctor Kry replies shortly. 

“How many dead, do you think?”

Doctor Kry let his eyes wander over the crowd below. 

“Fifty, maybe”, he says. 

It’s a cruel game, he knows that, to guess how many won’t survive the trip to the mainland. But he doesn’t know how to converse with the other doctors unless he joins in on their sad games. 

Sometimes, he plays with the nurses out on deck. There’s all sorts of games tucked away in boxes, ready to be taken out whenever.

“I heard that your trainee will be among those”, Doctor Hart says and nods down at the group of waiting people. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“I don’t know”, Doctor Kry replies shortly and stops leaning on the railing. “I should go find out.”

He doesn’t wait to hear the reply. He’s not sure where to go for his trainee to find him, but he decides to go to his cabin — if not to be at a static place, then to get away from everyone. Him getting a trainee must be the only hot topic they have. 

He navigates the white naked steel corridors to get to his cabin. It’s hard to believe that this naked ship should be covered with polished oak panels, golden details and expensive paintings. None of that can be afforded to be lost, in case the ship is sunk. 

They have lifeboat drills every morning to make sure that everyone on board knows what to do. Since they rotate staff often, those drills need to be done. They’re boring, but handy. 

The ship is nothing more than an empty shell of what she’s supposed to be, stripped of anything that gives her personality. All that’s left is bare necessities, nothing for pleasure.

He opens his door and walks in. The room is small and only contains a bed and a desk, the walls bare steel. It has a rectangular window overlooking the forecastle and he can’t help but think that he has gotten one of the best cabins on the ship. He knows that doctors, officers — both military and ship — and a handful of passengers, get better cabins than  the wounded or nurses. 

Doctor Kry sits down by the table and opens his notebook to write. He has time to finish two pages before there is a knock on the door. It’s a drastic knock, as if the person on the other side of the door is either nervous or eagerly excited. He stands up, not knowing what to expect as he opens the door. Outside stands a young thing, with their hands clasped in front of them. You take him by surprise. You’re not what he expected — but then again, what had he been expecting?

“Are you Doctor Kry?” you ask. 

“Yes, I am”, he replies. 

“I’m told that I am your apprentice.”

He lets his eyes wander over you. You seem so … small? You’re younger than he had thought, and there’s something naive about you. He can’t help but wonder what events has led you to end up here. 

He realizes that he can’t have you standing out in the corridor forever and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You walk past him into the small room and look around. 

“You have a better cabin than I do”, you say with a small — nervous — laugh, as if to bring some kind of humanity into the conversation. It’s as if you want to skip right past the awkward small talk. You grimace. “I have to share a cabin with five others. We only have a small porthole.”

Doctor Kry closes the door. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Oh, sorry”, you reply quickly, eyes widening with realization. “Y/N.”

Doctor Kry can’t help but tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Are you always this light-headed, Y/N?” he asks.

You look down in embarrassment. 

“No, doctor”, you say. “I am just nervous. I haven’t done anything like this before. Sorry, doctor.”

“Sit down.”

You look around for somewhere to sit and end up on his neatly fixed bed. Doctor Kry sits down on his chair by his desk. You fiddle with your hands in your lap as your eyes follow him. 

“You’re going to be my trainee, which means that you have to listen to me at all times”, Doctor Kry says. “The medical field is a profession that requires precision. One faulty move and someone could die. Is that clear?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I’m responsible for you, so I don’t want you doing anything stupid, do you get that? No breaking rules, no stupid behavior.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He stretches his neck. 

“This doesn’t have to do with you but I will tell you this anyway, in case it should occur”, he says stiffly. “If any of the other nurses give you any trouble, you’ll come tell me right away, understood?”

“Yes doctor”, you reply. 

“Good. In that case, let's get started. A lot of people have boarded the ship today, and we need to check up on them. You might have thought that you’d get a day to settle in, but that’s not how we do things here. On board, things can happen at any hour of the day and you need to be prepared.”

You nod. 

“Good”, he says, pleased. “Let’s go then, we have work to do.”

When he stands, so do you. He walks towards the door and so do you. You follow him through the corridors like a puppy, in silence. You don’t say anything. Maybe this will work for him after all?

You come out to the main staircase, a pathetic excuse of what it should be, and walk up a flight of stairs. What should be the lounge is now an operating theater and bedroom to wounded soldiers. He can hear you draw a breath as you walk in. The smell must hit you, he guesses, the smell of pain and blood. 

You follow him around the open room as he talks to different men and women who have all kinds of painful injuries and sickness symptoms. You’re quiet behind him. When he’s done with his round, he takes you out onto the promenade to get you some fresh air. You hold onto the wooden railing. 

“That can be unpleasant”, he says, leaning onto the railing beside you with his elbows. “Especially if it is one's first time. You’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to expect”, you reply. “I knew that it would be … bad … I just didn’t know what type. Tomorrow will be better. Now I know what to expect.”

You give him a small smile. Don’t give up on me yet, I will prove myself to you. You are weirdly cute. 

“Why are you here if you lack so much experience?” he asks.

“Good question”, you sigh. “Money problems, I suppose. My family has it rough.”

“How long will you be here?”

“A few months, until I've saved enough money.”

Doctor Kry nods. “Same here.”

“Is life on board tiresome?” you wonder. “What do you do out on sea?”

“Some play deck games, some write, draw or read”, Doctor Kry says. “Some spend time with the wounded. Everyone comes up with different activities.”

“I would like to explore the ship, see what the home I will have for the coming months contains.”

“If you want I can give you a tour.”

“Really? Thank you, I would love that.”

You follow the doctor inside again. He decides to start from the bottom of the beast and show you up to the very top.

The orlop deck is the one right above the boilers. The two of you shouldn't wander further below, in case of danger. The orlop deck contains a mailroom and the cargo hold. It's chilly inside the ominous cargo room. Wooden boxes stand in groups.

“These contain everything from weapons to medical equipment to food and alcohol”, Doctor Kry says and taps the top of a wooden box. “Some people — of the military staff, I've been told — sneak down here to steal some of it. I wouldn't advise you to explore down here. The ones you'll meet will most likely be drunk beyond measure and not trustable.”

“I understand”, you say.

“That being said, let's go upstairs.”

G-deck is filled with bunk beds, rows and rows of them. Walls that used to separate cabins have been demolished and left are the marks on the floors where they should stand. People are in bed, either sleeping or chatting with each other. They’re wearing bandage.

F-deck was the same as G-deck, filled with bunk beds and cabins. 

E-deck has a pool with crystal clear water. It’s a simple pool, only there for exercise. It used to have much more detailing, a children’s part of the pool and some children’s floating toys. 

“It would be nice to swim here”, you say. “After long hours of standing.”

“I think it is nice”, Doctor Kry says. “I haven’t used the pool yet. I think it’s seawater but, like I said, I haven’t tried the pool yet.”

Before he has time to think, you’ve crouched down, sunk your cupped hand into the water and taken a lick. Doctor Kry gasps and twitches forward.

“What are you doing?” he questions. 

“It is seawater”, you say. 

He grabs your wrist, pulls you up on your feet and shakes your hands free of the water.

“That is disgusting, do not do that again”, he says sternly.

You laugh slightly, meeting his eyes. Doctor Kry shakes his head, but has to restrain himself to not smile. 

“Get out”, he says, nodding at the door. 

You walk before him. Your youthful behavior is going to wear him down. 

D-deck has more dim corridors than the others you’ve explored. Doctor Kry stops in front of a steel door with his hand resting on the handle. 

“This room is the morgue”, he says slowly. “I don’t expect you to like this room, but I do expect you to treat it with respect. Don’t do anything ‘fun’ here, like you did in the pool. Understood?”

You nod. Doctor Kry opens the door. A chilly wind blows through you. You hug yourself. The room is colder than the winds up on deck and you look at Doctor Kry to see if he’s also feeling the cold. Along the walls of the room are numbered hatches. You don’t need him to explain what is inside them. Doctor Kry opens a door to the right, showing a small room with an operating table on it. 

“Have you ever performed an autopsy?” you ask. 

“Many times”, he responds and closes the door. 

“Do they get … easier every time?”

“Easier? I wouldn’t say easier, but you learn to shut off your brain. You’ll learn that too while working here.”

He walks you out of the morgue. D-deck also contains even more wards. 

C-deck has the first class dining saloon, now nothing more than a school cafeteria. The tables are simple, the chairs looking uncomfortable. A few men sit by a table eating. Doctor Kry is quick to get you out. 

B-deck has more cabins and open wards, along with an enclosed promenade deck filled with beds, where patients can rest in fresh air. There’s nothing left of the verandah cafe, the suites have been emptied and the hairdresser doesn’t have the equipment that it once had. 

A-deck is the only deck on the ship left with some of her old personality. The lounge has some armchairs and couches and the smoking room still has the painted glass windows. You look at the painted mermaid on the window. 

“It’s beautiful”, you say. 

“It is”, Doctor Kry says. “I think it has something to do with Greek mythology, but I haven’t asked.”

The enclosed promenade deck the two of you had been on is on the same deck. Boat deck, on the other hand, has nothing enclosed. Nothing to shield anyone from wind or rain. Rows upon rows of lifeboats stand in their davits, collapsible ones are positioned on the roofs for easy access. 

“Okay, I think you’ve seen it all”, Doctor Kry says and sighs. “Not much, as you can see. Majority of it have been removed in case anything would happen to the ship.”

“Is there a risk of something happening?”

“The ship is painted white with a green line and big, red crosses. People know better than to sink a hospital ship.”

“But at night you can’t see what color the ship is painted.”

“I assure you that has been thought of. I will show you. Meet me at my cabin at sunset.”

“Okay.”

You knock at his door as the sun is resting on the horizon. Doctor Kry stands up from his chair a bit too quickly.

“Good evening”, you say. “I’m here.”

“So you are”, he replies and grabs his beige coat. “Let’s go, we can get dinner afterwards.”

You follow him out to the main staircase and up to the boat deck. The red shade above you is fading into dark blue skies. Wherever you look, nothing breaks it. You follow Doctor Kry to the stern where you have a good view of the ship. A strand of green light lights up the side of the ship, big spotlights turned to the red crosses. The green light gives your face a magical shade, one which makes the doctor stare at you when you’re not looking. 

“You can sleep soundly”, he says. “As you can see, there are lights showing other ships what we are. Now, how about some food?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of you walk back inside and make your way down to the dining hall. You don’t say anything, but the way your hand travels the railing down the main staircase makes him smile. 

You get a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Doctor Kry leads you to a table full of doctors where he always sits. Not because he likes their company, but because he doesn’t want to sit with the immature nurses. 

“So this is your apprentice?” Doctor Hart says, eyeing you. 

“Yes”, Doctor Kry replies. 

You sit down beside him. 

“I’m Y/N”, you say, remembering how you had forgotten to introduce yourself to Kry earlier. “

“You are a voluntary nurse, right?” a doctor asks. 

“Yes.”

“What training do you have?”

“The absolute minimum, sir. I didn't have time to learn more before being sent here.”

“That’s why they’re my apprentice”, Doctor Kry says before anyone else has time to say something that could invalidate your lack of knowledge. “I’m supposed to train them.”

“You have gotten an unfortunate fit, Y/N”, Doctor Hart says jokingly. “Kry is a good doctor, but probably the most boring man I have ever come across.”

You frown, looking between him and your mentor. 

“I wouldn’t say that”, you say slowly. 

Doctor Kry looks at you with a small smile before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“If you ever get tired of this boring man, I could always use a trainee”, Doctor Hart says with a small smirk. 

The other doctors laugh. You give them a small, uncomfortable smile.

“Let them be”, Doctor Kry says warningly. “You don't have to be an ass to the newcomers.”

He turns away from them, looking at you. 

“Don’t listen to them”, he whispers.

“Okay”, you reply quietly and give him a thankful smile.

He spends the rest of the dinner conversing with you, completely ignoring the other doctors. He asks you about your family life, the members in it, what your favorite memory is. For the first time in months, he's had a purposeful conversation, one he won't forget the second he leaves the dining hall. You've only been here less than a day and yet you've managed to put color in this white steel beast.

“I shouldn't keep you”, he says suddenly. “I suppose that you're tired. You should rest. I will see you tomorrow morning. Will you find your way to your cabin?”

“I think so”, you smile. “Thank you.”

“Be at my door at seven tomorrow morning.”

You nod. Doctor Kry gives you a small nod before walking away. His heart pounds in his chest, already looking forward to tomorrow morning.

Days go by. You spend every waking hour with your mentor, following him like a dog. You don't get why everyone else calls him strict, why some pity you for having him. And some pity themselves for not being picked. It's a weird feeling, you find, that everyone has a divided opinion of you and you have no idea who thinks what. All eyes on you, and none seem to be in your favor.

Doctor Kry is awoken by knocking on his door. Still in his drowsy state can he recognize the pattern. You have a unique sense of knocking. The darkness still covers the sky.

You're standing outside, wet to the bone, wearing your pajamas and a guilty look in your eyes.

“You told me to tell you right away”, you say quickly. “I'm not sure if you meant that literally but … I have nowhere else to go.”

Your voice dies out. Doctor Kry frowns, looking at your wet form up and down.

“What happened?” he asks suspiciously.

“They locked me out.”

“What are you talking about? Who locked you out?”

“The other nurses.”

What?

“Why are you wet?”

“They threw water on me and threw me out of the room. I-I guess that it was a joke but … I didn’t really … find it funny …”

He can tell that you're shivering, although you're trying your best not to show it. It makes him unexplainably furious.  

“Come inside”, he says and steps aside.

He's quick to grab his towel from his trunk and wrap it around you. You sit down on his chair.

“Did they say anything to you?” he asks. 

“Not from what I heard”, you reply quietly, shaking slightly. “Everything went on so quickly. I barely had time to wake up before I found myself in the corridor.”

“They threw you?” Doctor Kry asks, trying to understand. 

“Grabbed me by my arms and threw me out.”

“You must have hit the opposite wall in the corridor.”

“It’s fine.”

He feels his heart tug. His poor little apprentice, getting thrown around like trash. He knew that the nurses were assholes, but he is appalled that none of them even tried to befriend you. He knows that it’s because of him. In some way shape or form, it always leads back to him. It’s his responsibility to take care of you now. And, like hell, he’ll do it.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes to start with”, he says and removes the towel from around your body. “You’ll get sick if you keep them on any longer.”

He helps you remove them and dress you in his spare pajamas, offering you his bed. 

“Don’t go back to that room”, he says. 

“Why?”

“I feel like I am responsible for you and that’s why I can’t let you back there.”

“What do I do then?”

It’s such a simple question, but it makes him feel even more determined to take care of you. You’re asking him how to proceed. You trust him enough to let him decide what should happen to you. It’s enough to make him hear his heart in his ears. 

“You’ll stay here for the night, and I will decide what to do with you in the morning”, he says and removes the cover of the bed. “Why don’t you go to bed while I get you a hot cup of tea?”

“Okay, thank you, doctor”, you say quietly. 

“Of course.”

He smiles as he walks out, but the second he closes the door he feels a pain in his heart. He has been with you for two weeks by now and every day has been a pleasure. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this excited to work. Every meal, he spends it with you. He plays deck games with you on your breaks and play board games in the lounge at night. You’re interesting to him without being annoying. Everyone else gets on his nerves, being too much, too loud, too clingy and too … much. You, somehow, seem to be just perfect in every category. It’s such a rare trait for him to find. He doesn’t care that no one else understands it —  on the contrary, he finds it great that he is the only one you spend your time with — but he hates that the others are childish enough to mess with you because of it. 

Sea air must bring even the sanest people to madness. 

The morgue flashes before his eyes and he stops right in his tracks. He wants to. Oh, how he wants to. But there’s no way that he could play it off. On a secluded place like a ship, there was no place to hide a crime. Nowhere to flee if he did get caught. He’ll figure it out, though. They won’t go unpunished. 

He gets the cup of tea and makes his way back to the cabin.

“Drink this”, he says and holds the cup to your lips. “This should warm you up.”

He notices how you’re trying to take the cup from him, but he won't let you. Wants to feed you. You drink slowly. 

“What do I do from now on?” you ask. 

“Well, firstly, I will talk to your roommates”, the doctor says. “Tomorrow morning. You can take my bed, I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, I can’t do that. I’ve troubled you enough, doctor.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tucks you in and opens his trunk to take out a shirt to use as a pillow. 

“Doctor, please”, you say. “I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be absurd. Enough of this, now go to sleep.”

There’s no use in fighting him, he will not budge. You try to lay as still as you can, but it’s hard to drift off to sleep. You’re unaware that Kry is awake as well, having an even harder time getting some rest. The only thing he can think of is how angry he is at those nurses … but also a particular happiness. They sent you his way. In an unofficial way they sent you right into his clutches. 

The very next morning, he awakens to find you there, in his bed, sleeping peacefully. He stares at you. There is something so heavenly about you. Something alive, among all this death and suffering. 

He changes into his uniform before walking through the ominous corridors of your room. His knock must have echoed in the room because he can hear a few surprised gasps.

He recognizes the tired face that opens.

“If you don't mind, I'll grab Y/N’s things”, he says and, before waiting for a response, pushes past into the room, hitting their shoulder intentionally. “Where are they?”

“Under that bunk bed.”

He follows the pointed finger and grabs a brown bag. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, you know”, he says without changing his normal calm tone. “I thought nurses were supposed to be caring, but what do I know? I never spend time with them. And now I see that it was with good reason.”

“What makes you so special?” one of the nurses scoffs. “There are a lot of doctors people would choose before you too.”

“I'm aware of that, and I'm very thankful for it. But you shouldn't forget that there is a hierarchy on board. I might not fall for your charms, but I can still get you downgraded to kitchen staff.”

He walks out. You're still sleeping when he returns to his cabin and he decides to go get you breakfast.

“Wake up”, he says and places the tray on the desk. “I've gotten you breakfast.”

“Really?” you ask and sit up. “Thank you so much. And thank you for letting me stay here.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives you a cup of coffee. 

“I brought your things”, he says. “I don’t think that you should go back to that room at all. I will try to get you into another cabin.”

“Oh”, you say. “Thank you.”

“You say awfully many ‘thank you’s.”

“Well, you do awfully many nice things for me.”

He tries not to show how happy he gets, but his ears burn a crimson red. You get out of bed and walk over to your bag, looking around for something. 

“I want to give you something”, you say and hold your hands behind your back. 

“What?” asks. 

You take out a little porcelain dog, a spitting image of a Golden Retriever. 

“I don’t have much”, you say, “but I really value this little thing. Take it.”

“No”, Doctor Kry says simply. 

“I don’t have anything else.”

“Which is why I can’t take it.”

“Please?”

He looks at the little dog in your hands and the pleading look in your eyes. His hand reach out and take it in his hand, knowing that he won’t keep it. He will find a way to give it back to you at a later time. But he has to accept it for now so that you don’t feel stupid. 

He places it on his desk and gives you the cup of coffee again. 

“What will we work with today?” you ask. 

“We’re picking up some new people.”

Everytime they pick up new people, he’s reminded of your limited time. One day, sooner than desired, you will walk off the gangway … and someone will take your place. No. Never. He doesn't want anyone else other than you.

Among the newcomers, you find a child. The six year old boy seems to like running along the big ship's decks. 

You and Kry observe him from the promenade boat above.

“Why is there a child?” you ask. “Isn’t it dangerous to let a little boy run around?”

“His parents must either be military, a nurse or wounded”, Doctor Kry replies.

You let go of the railing. Doctor Kry follows you with his eyes as you make your way down to the boy. You introduce yourself, take his little hand and ask him for his. Nicholas. You play with him. Doctor Kry can’t look away. You’re a natural with children. The little boy seems to have genuinely fun with you. You’re running along the deck, back and forth. You pretend to have a hard time catching up with him, making Doctor Kry smile. He’s not much for children. They’re loud, unpredictable and lack consequence-think. He hates all of it. But you seem to have a natural talent for it. The boy seem so comfortable with you. It’s adorable. 

“Doctor!” you shout. 

“What?” he replies without raising his voice. 

“Come down, let’s play something!” 

He sighs and lets go of the railing before making his way down to you and Nicholas. 

“This is doctor Kry”, you tell the boy. “He won’t bite you.”

“Bite?” Doctor Kry scoffs. “Since when have I ever bitten someone?”

“That’s what I’m saying — you won’t bite him.”

“I never bite to begin with.”

“That’s what I’m saying, so what are you arguing about?”

“Y/N- … nevermind, I’m getting nowhere.”

You laugh. He shakes his head disapprovingly, but his heart aches fondly. You’re like an annoying fly buzzing around, but he doesn’t want to kill you. 

You play curling on the deck and you throw lamely to let the little boy win. He tries to match it, tries to follow your lead. 

The image doesn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day. The only thing he sees is you with the little boy. 

“Doctor, be careful!”

He doesn’t notice how he’s slipped with the scalpel and cut himself in the palm. With a hiss, he backs away from the man on the operating table. You grab his other arm and pulls him with you. His head is awfully cloudy. The only thing he sees in front of him is your smile when you played with the boy. 

“Sit here”, you say and place him down on a chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yes … yes, I’m fine”, he says and clears his throat. 

You clean his hand and wrap it in bandage. Your touch makes him want to pass out. But it also makes him want to yell in frustration. How could he slip up that easily? He has never been distracted during an autopsy and suddenly seeing you with a child puts him out of balance enough for him to slip the knife?

“You need to be careful”, you tell him.

“I know”, he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t enjoy hurting myself.”

“I didn’t mean that, I know you’re careful, I just-”

He realizes that he’s made a mistake. 

“I know”, he says, cutting you of before sighing heavily and continuing in defeat. “I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not angry with you.”

He could never be. If anything, he’s furious at himself. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. 

You let go of his bandaged hand. 

“It should be okay now”, you say. “But I don’t think that you should go back.”

“I won’t”, he says. “They need a steady hand and clearly my isn’t.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, doctor. It happens to the best of us.”

He sighs and stands up, keeping his eyes on a point above your head. 

“Let’s go out”, he says stiffly and clenches his jaw. “I need air.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you ask. 

His reply comes short. “Just come.”

You nod and hurry after him out on deck. His entire body screams anger. You don’t dare to open your mouth, scared to upset him even more. Instead, you follow him like a shadow around the promenade deck. He suddenly stops and looks at you, as if he just only realized that you are still here. You back away a few steps to give him space. He flinches forward, as if his body wants to walk over to you, but his brain stops him. He wants to hug you. Wants so bad. But it is not professional. 

“Maybe i should go”, you say. “I think that you need some alone time to think. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“No, wait”, he says and grabs your arm. “Don’t leave.”

You look at him questionably. 

“Let’s just sit”, he says and pulls you over to the deck chairs. 

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” you ask hesitantly. “You seem a bit on edge.”

“It’s not directed at you”, he says.

“Okay, but you’re still upset. I know that you hurt yourself, but it’s okay, it’ll heal quickly.”

“It’s not just that.”

He never makes mistakes. He never slips up. You’re becoming dangerous for him.

“Do you want to tell me?” you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It’s cute how worried you are about him. He gives you a smile. 

It feels like a dagger through the heart when you tell him that it is your last week on board. What do you mean that you’re going home? You just came here. His mind spins as he tries to come up with something. He needs you here on this boat — or wherever he is — to work properly. Both figuratively and literally. He feels like he performs better, both in the operating theater and as a human. 

The cut on his hand has healed by now, but he can still feel the burning sensation of your fingers against his skin. He can’t — won't — forget it. He kept the bandage, despite the blood on it.

You need to be kept here … and he needs to come up with a solution on how to keep you. He could make you trip down the stairs and have you break a leg. No, you could still return home with broken bones. He could tie you up and lock you in, but if you screamed loud enough someone would hear you through the thin steel walls. You need to blend in. How does one blend in, in a floating prison with wounded people. 

Oh. Of course.

He makes his way to the medical supply room, looking around for something — anything — that he can use. He finds a little green bottle. You shouldn’t drink it straight away, but if he dilutes it in water, it should be fine. 

He decides to mix some of the dangerous substance in your tea the following mornings. For the first few days, there seem to be no symptoms of his little poisoning. Until the fourth morning when you’re not at his door when he expects you. He gets himself dressed and out of the room, marching down to your new — own — cabin. He knocks on the door. 

“Y/N, are you awake?” he asks. 

“Yes”, he hears your voice through the door, your voice thick and hoarse. 

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He opens the door. You’re lying in the bed, curled up with your arms over your stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You shake your head weakly. “Not well. My stomach really hurts … I think that I’m going to throw up. I haven’t been able to go get a bucket so I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

He leaves the room. Out in the corridor, he can’t help but smile. It’s finally kicking in. He had been worried that it wouldn’t work until you had left the ship … where he can’t care for you. He gets a clean bucket from a storage closet and returns. 

“Let’s get you up right”, he says and helps you sit up. 

The motion alone is enough to have you throwing up. He places the bucket under your mouth, letting you empty yourself. 

“I’m sorry”, you hiccup. 

“It’s okay”, he replies. 

“I don’t think I can work today.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

He opens the window and sits down by the desk. 

“You don’t have to stay here”, you say weakly, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine”, the doctor says. “I can see that. You took care of me, now I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s different. I just put on bandage.”

“So? You weren’t skilled for more. I am, and I intend to put my knowledge to use.” 

He stands up abruptly, deciding to start right away. 

“Let’s get you some fresh air”, he says. “This open window won’t do.”

“Doctor, I can’t move”, you say, eyes widening. “I-I’ve tried, but I-I … I can’t.”

He frowns. Has he done too much? 

“My stomach hurts so much and my limbs don’t seem to want to move.”

“It’ll be okay”, he says shortly and lifts you up in his arms. “I’ll do the moving for you.”

He walks slowly along the decks, so as not to make your nausea even more unbearable. He walks out to the enclosed promenade where rows of beds stand along the walls and places you down in one of them, making sure to get you in the sunlight. With a smile, he tucks you in.

“Some fresh air and sunlight will do you good”, he says and sits down on the side of the bed. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? I suppose you haven’t had much this night. I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be safe.”

You nod and make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

“It’s hard to not be nauseous when the ship moves so much”, you mumble. 

“I have the bucket, you can vomit as much as you’d like”, he says. 

“In that case I won’t vomit at all. Because I don’t want to.”

Doctor Kry scoffs with a smile. 

“I know”, he says. “Try to rest now.”

He sits by your side until you’ve fallen asleep. You are so unbelievably sweet. In every single way. Doctor Kry stands up to go empty the bucket. He walks out the enclosed promenade, out onto the open deck and throws the contains over the side. 

“What’s with your apprentice?” Doctor Hart asks, walking over to him with his hands in his pockets. “Rumour says that they’re sick.”

“Yes, they are”, he says shortly. 

“Weren’t they going home this week?”

Do not remind me.

“They were”, he says, even colder. “Not anymore. I can’t let them go back if they have some kind of sickness. Better for them to be isolated here where it can’t spread far.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Yes, very. I think that you should stay away from them — tell everyone else to be cautious and keep distance as well.”

He grimaces and quickly backs away from him, walking away. Doctor Kry smirks and shakes his head. 

And you consider yourself smart enough to be a doctor? 

“What are you doing?”

The little boy is back. Nicholas stands a few steps behind him, watching curiously. 

“I’m emptying a bucket”, Doctor Kry answers, trying not to sound short and cold like usual. You like this kid and if he’s impolite to him, he’s sure he’ll hear about it from you. 

“Why?”

“Because there was vomit in it.”

“Ew! Did you get seasick?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, not me. Y/N’s not feeling well.”

“Is Y/N sick?”

“Yes.”

He looks worried. His best friend isn’t feeling well? Doctor Kry sighs. 

“Do you want to come and meet them later?” he asks. “They’re resting right now but you can come visit when they’re awake again.”

“When is that?” Nicholas asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“How will I know then?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t wait to hear more dumb questions. Doctor Kry walks straight back to the enclosed promenade and places the bucket by the bed. He sits down by your legs and takes your hand. 

A few days go by. He continuous to poison your tea, and help you throw up. When your body doesn’t want to do it anymore, when it’s too exhausted to work for your benefit, he has to help. 

“Alright, open your mouth”, he says, brushing any type of hair away from your face. “This will not be pleasant, but I need you to throw up, okay?”

You sit beside him on the bed with the bucket in your lap, hugging it tightly. Your unsure grimace is enough to answer. 

“I know”, he sighs. “It’ll be quick. It won’t hurt.”

“Okay”, you mumble and nod, opening your mouth. 

He reaches in with his fingers until they touch the soft part of the back of the mouth. Your mouth is warm and soft, making him feel light headed. As soon as you gag, he pulls his fingers away. You hover over the bucket for the thirteenth time in twenty four hours. Doctor Kry pats your back. 

“There you go”, he says. “See? Quick and easy.”

“Easy?” you cough, giving him a stern eye. “Nowhere near easy.”

“Okay, maybe not easy. Bad wording. But it’s over now. Good job, I’m proud of you.”

A sad smile appears on your face. You lean your head onto his shoulder, sighing in exhaustion. Doctor Kry tenses. His heart stops. 

“I’m so tired”, you whisper. “My body hurts.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Your scent clogs up his head. 

“I should be home by now”, you whisper. 

“I know”, doctor Kry whispers comfortingly. 

You break out into sobs. Doctor Kry swallows. He can imagine how you must feel. Body broken and unresponsive, not back home with your family like you had planned and anticipated … and you can’t do anything to stop it. Doctor Kry turns your body to him and hugs you. Holding you feels like heaven. You fit perfectly in his arms, as if you were made for him, and him only. You were born to be his.

“I'm sorry if this is unprofessional”, you mumble. 

“It's okay, you're sick”, he replies thickly

He closes his eyes, enjoying the embrace. It’s everything he could — and have — ever dreamt of. His own little patient, in his arms, where they belong. Only for him. Oh, God, he can never let you go. You will be here for as long as he is, and then he’ll take you back home to him. Whether you like it or not.

“I’m cold.”

“I'll go get you some more blankets.”

He dreads to let you go but he can't deny your request. Your warmth disappears from his embrace. 

He decides to hurry, wanting to get back to you as quickly as possible. As he walks down the main staircase, he feels the entire ship shudder and hear a loud ‘bang’. He has to grab onto the staircase railing to not fall over. The sound of porcelain crashing onto the floor in the distance hits him. He hurries down.

A man covered in soot runs past him. One of the men from the boiler room.

“The ship is flooding!” he shouts in full panic. “We're sinking!”

Doctor Kry widens his eyes. There's no way, right? They're a hospital ship! No one in their right mind would sink a hospital ship! His mind forgets the blanket. He needs a lifebelt. Not a blanket. 

He runs past the room where you had stayed first, and he can see the nurses inside trying to scramble their belongings into small purses. Without thinking, he marches over, shuts the door and grabs the nearest fire extinguisher to break the lock. He throws the fire extinguisher to the side and hurries down the corridor, opening the first door he finds. It's a cabin for female nurses. He reaches over one of the bunk beds, to a net where lifebelts Are kept. He pulls down two and runs out. 

The floor has started to shift beneath him. He can tell that it tilts to his left. She's going down by the stern.

He runs up the stairs, trying to push his way through a flood of people desperately climbing upwards. He wants to shout at them, but it won't matter. No one else will listen or care. Instead, he uses force to push himself through the crowd.

He has to get to you before anything happens. There's no certainty in how much time there is, but there is a certainty of death if he doesn't hurry up. 

He runs through packed corridors, ripping open your door.

“What's going on?” you ask with wide eyes.

There's something horrific with your fearful eyes. Everything about you is dull and tired, besides your panicking eyes. 

“We've been hit”, he says in a steady voice and forces the white lifebelt over your head, tying it tightly around your body. “We need to get to a lifeboat as quickly as possible.”

“What?” you ask in shock. “What happened? You said that we were okay, that nothing would happen to a hospital ship!”

He doesn't answer. If he does, he's worried that he'll snap at you. Instead, he lifts you up and carries you out of the room. He makes sure not to trip, but carrying you through tilted spaces is harder than he expects. Giving up is not an option, however.

The boat deck is crowded. He manages to get through to a lifeboat and sits down with you in his arms.

“I’m scared”, you whisper.

“It's okay”, the doctor whispers back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He holds you tightly when the lifeboat slowly sinks towards the water, scared that you might fall off. 

Seeing the ship from afar as the lifeboat makes its way away from it finally puts things together in your head. You gasp. You had been on that … and if Kry hadn't come get you you would still be on it, waiting for death.

The bow slowly rises out of the water, dripping with water. The sun shines right on it, as if it is the ocean’s main attraction. The room where doctor Kry locked in the nurses is far underwater by now. He hides a smirk under his hand. He had promised that they would be punished for what they had done. They'd have a chance if they hadn't been childish.

“I never thought that I’d see something like this”, you say. “I never wanted to see the bottom of a ship.”

“Me neither”, the doctor replies. 

“Will many die?”

“No, not many. I’m sure of it.”

You creep closer to him, shivering although you don’t feel any cold winds. He holds you tighter. 

The only thing left of the floating hospital is a steamy, bubbling mess, filled with debris. It’s like you can hear her hit the ocean floor. You can’t help but wonder what position she is in, if you’ll ever get to know. If anyone ever will dive down and check. If that will be possible.

“It’s so silent”, you whisper and meet his blue eyes. “It shouldn’t be silent … should it?”

“I don’t know”, he replies. “What is the other choice? People screaming?”

You shake your head quickly. Don’t want to imagine that.

Hours go by. When the evening comes, you’re picked up by another ship and given blankets and food. Doctor Kry stays close to you, not letting anyone get close. He sits in a protective position beside you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning everything and everyone around him. 

The little boy clings to a woman who you guess is his mother. He doesn’t seem to understand what has happened, how lucky he is, and you hope that he never will.

“What will happen now?” you wonder quietly.

“I will continue to care for you until you are well”, he says. “That’s what will happen. I will take care of the rest, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just lean on me and everything will be alright, okay?”

You nod. Doctor Kry smiles and straightens his neck. 

“Good.”

You look up at the colorful evening sky and sighs. No one died this day — apart from a few nurses who doctor Kry didn’t like, but he will never tell you that — and that is a comfort. But you’re unaware of the plans doctor Kry has for you. And maybe that’s for the best.  

[gaywalker80085]

Party

Pairing: Wanda x G!P NB reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: You are attending a party and see a beautiful woman, but there's no way she would ever be interested in you. Right?

Warnings: Smut, Drinking, and drunk smut

A/N: Hey y'all all sorry again for disappearing for so long. All of my fics will still be coming out at random intervals, but for the foreseeable future, they will be scenarios I daydream about meeting my girlfriend in. And guess what not proof read

Words: 3527

Masterlist

All you wanted to do was get ready for bed early so you could bedrot and still go to bed at a good time. Even though it's the weekend, how are you supposed to have the maximum amount of time to rot your brain tomorrow if you don't wake up at a reasonable hour?

But of course, Natasha just had to go to this week's Stark party and would not relent when you tried to deny her invite. "Come on, it will be fun, I know you like to dress up. Pleeaassee."

You do like to dress up. Despite being a home body you know you clean up nicely, and it is pretty fun to see how sharp you can get yourself and how many longing stares you can attract.

"You've been working out more too so you know someone will come home with you, just saying."

Sold

Now its 7pm and your contemplating how many buttons to have open while factiming Natasha. "1 seems to closed, but 2 shows my tank top and I don't know if that's good or bad. Also, 1 hides my chain.."

"So obviously 2, I know you like to be modest and all, but I'm telling you girls will like 2."

"I suppose you're right."

You finish getting ready by putting in your small silver hoops and spraying your cologne before heading to Natasha's room. She wanted you to get ready there, but you know all too well that you need maximum alone time before going to this party if you want to stay for any real amount of time.

The party being in the same building as your room makes it all too easy to bail and the slightest amount of overstimulation.

You dont even knock on her door before Natasha opens it. "Wooow Y/N looking good looking good."

"Really? Is there anything you would change, be honest?"

"No, I think you really got it this time,e even your hair is looking pretty good."

She's right for some reason, recently your hair is a frizzy mess more often than not. It's most likely because you stopped putting in as much effort as before, but with your new schedule of waking up early and training, it's going to be a mess immediately anyway, so why bother?

You're a trainee for Shield, but you met Natasha when she was subbing for one of your teachers on a day she had nothing better to do. She thought you were pretty cool, so she spent extra time talking to you, and your friendship just blossomed from there.

"Are you ready yet It starts at 7, and it's 6:5,5 we're about to be lat.e"

Natasha just rolls her eyes at you. "Calm down its a party, they don't really start until an hour after they say. So when it says ,7 that actually means 8."

"Then why don't they say 8?"

"Because then everyone would come at 9."

"Why?"

"Because that's just how it is."

"But why is it that way?"

Natasha annoyingly elects to stop answering you. You are a punctual person, she tells you this hour after stuff all of the time, but it's just so annoying. Why say 7 if not 7? Why is it a culture to be late? There is no on time, only early or late, what do people not understand?

You decide to go into Natasha's room and take a quick nap before it is time to go. You have found that napping is the only way to keep yourself from stressing about the time.

Once it is time to go, Natasha actually wakes you up nicely for once. Over time, she has realized that abruptly waking you up, whilst temporarily funny, is not good for anyone unless they want you to be a snarky zombie for the next 1-2 hours.

You both head downstairs once you've had a few moments to come to your senses. You're armed with your earbuds and your over-ear headphones in Natasha's purse just in case your earbuds aren't cutting it.

Once you and Natasha make it into the room right at 8, of course, it isn't too packed, thank god.

You spot Bucky and Sam across the room and head over to them. You give Sam and Bucky some quick side hugs. You 4 had hung out a few times recently, slowly becoming a small friend group. Sam and Natasha head to get some drinks.

"I'm surprised you weren't here earlier. How in the world did Natasha talk you past 7:30?"

"She let me sleep in her bed. She had no choice unless she wanted to be here at 7."

"Well, you haven't missed much. I'm hearing a lot of 8:30's so you're still early in reference to most."

Natsha and Sam come back 10 minutes later, and you all stand around talking and laughing as the room fills up.

By the time you're 3 drinks deep, you're feeling loose enough to get your next drink yourself.

You head up to the bar, waiting your turn to be served, when you look over and see the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen. Wanda. You had seen pictures in the news and stuff, but despite frequenting Natasha's room and therefore the Avengers floor, you had somehow never crossed paths with the witch.

You quickly realise you've been staring and tear your eyes away from her. All you can think about is her now. You want her to be burned into your memory so she's all you'll ever see again.

You can help but sneak another glance, quickly looking over. You try to keep it short, but you also need your eyes to have time to focus on every part of her.

She's sitting with her back to the bar, talking to Carol, joking about god knows what. Shes wearing a simple black dress with a slit down the leg and heels. She's enjoying the conversation, but you know you could make her laugh more.

You turn your gaze back to the bartender in time to give him your order.

By the time you make it back to your friends, they are talking about something new, but you don't care; you're just thinking about her.

After 5 or 10 you have no idea minutes have passed your friends need more drinks. Natasha is about to go but you quickly volunteer.

"I'll go!" You say a little to quickly

Natasha looks at you confused "You just go a drink you've barely touched yet?"

Shoot, you were so deep in that you hadn't even tasted your drink yet, but you want another chance to see Wanda. So you do what you gotta do and throw your drink back in 2 big gulps and snatch your friends' empty cups before they can question you any further.

When you make it back to the bar, you look over, surprised to see that Wanda is now sitting alone. This time, you choose to stand a little closer to her, granted you're still 3 or 4 seats away, it is technically closer than before, so you call it progress.

The bartender is taking his time to make his way over to you but you arent complaining since this gives you all the time in the world to admire Wandas side profile as she scrolls on her phone. She seems quite uninterested in the party.

You could show her something that she would be quite interested in. Just as you think that Wanda's lips quirk into a slight smile.

You wonder what she's looking at. Nothing could be as fulfilling as looking at her. Her smile grows wider, but she seems to be trying to fight it. Weird.

The bartender comes over and you give him the order for all 4 of you, but when he walks away and you look back to continue staring at the beautiful Wanda, she's gone.

You look around, but you don't see where she went, deflating your shoulders a little, but when you look back toward the bar, you see auburn hair out of the corner of your eye.

Snapping your head towards it shes sitting right next to you, back on her phone, but she looks up at your sudden movement.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was someone sitting here? The vent was blowing on me over there,e and it was making me cold," she says, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

Fuck. Up close, she's even more beautiful, not a single imperfection on her flawless skin.

Her cheeks grow red, and you realize you haven't answered.

"Oh, um, no, sorry I just uh..." you ramble like an idiot trying to make an excuse for whipping your head around.

"Are you sure? I can move if you're here with someone, really, it's no problem."

"NO! I mean uh, no, sorry, no, I'm not really here with anyone, just my friend."

Wanda smiles softly, looking amused at your ramblings. "Oh really, whose your friend?"

"Uh, Natasha, she made me come."

"Made you?"

"Yeah, I normally just chill on the weekends, but she convinced me, I guess."

"And how did she convince you?"

'Women'

"Oh, you know, just saying I'll have fun and whatnot, you know the usual."

"Really, that's all it took? That seems pretty broad to me."

The look in her eyes seems like she knows something, but what would she know?

The bartender comes over with your drinks, and considering how hard you're bombing, you take that as your cue to exit.

"Well, I need to bring these to my friends, so if you'll excuse me."

Wanda smiles as you try to start balancing all 4 drinks in 4 different types of glasses. 'Damn them and their differing tastes this was easier when they were empty'

"Why don't I help you with one of those?" Wanda suggests, and before you can answer, she's picked up a drink. Your drink.

You don't protest as youd rather accept her help than embarrass yourself by spilling.

When you make it back to your group, you turn to take you drink back only to see a breathtaking sight.

Wanda is taking a long sip of your drink, making eye contact with you through her eyelashes over the rim of your glass. All you can do is stand there, hand half outstretched, mouth agape.

She finished her sip, putting your drink into your open hand while licking her lips. All you can do is close your hand and stare at her lips

"That's pretty good, maybe I should get one for my next drink."

Your mouth is dry as you try to come up with a response, but Natasha beats you to it.

"Oh hey Wanda, what are you doing over here?"

"Hey, Nat, I was just helping your friend... I'm sorry I didn't catch your name." She says, turning her attention back to you, placing a distracting hand on your bicep, which you swear she gives a squeeze, still pretty much in your same position.

"Uh, Y Y/N" You stutter out.

Natasha gives you a knowing smirk before looking back at Wanda.

"Well, that was very kind of you, thank you so much, Wanda," Natasha exclaimed a little too nicely.

Wanda stood around talking to your group for a little bit hand never leaving your arm.

As you watched her talk to your friends, your mind began to wander, especially as your 4th drink started hitting. All you could think about was wanting to kiss, which progressed into touching Wanda, which then progressed into tasting Wanda. With that, though, Wanda choked on her words, a little bit confusing you. Nothing out of the ordinary had been said in their conversation, at least out of what you heard.

Then, all of a sudden, a very vivid scene played in your mind. You're standing in a room you'd never seen before, holding Wanda upside down, tasting her and teasing her as she takes your full length into her mouth. The scene was so clear you swore you could feel it.

Just as fast as the vision came, it went. When your eyes refocused on Wanda, her face and chest were flush. She turned to you before coming close and whispering in your ear, "I need another drink, would you like to come with me?" before looking up at you, making direct eye contact.

You just nod, and her hand slips into yours, pulling you quickly towards the bar, but before you make it there, she pulls you towards the door. You're confused, but you don't care enough to resist as long as she keeps her hand in yours.

"Where are we going?" You ask even though you don't really care you feel you should at least pretend.

"My room," Wanda says quickly before pressing the button for the elevator.

"Your room? What's in your room?" you ask. confused.

Would you like to go to her room? Yes.

Do you think she would randomly take you up to her room for the reason you would prefer? Hell no.

"I'll be there, is that enough reason?" She asks, seeming impatient as you both step onto the elevator.

You nod your head side to side, "I suppose," you say, racking your brain to try and figure out what the hell is going on.

When the doors open, Wanda pulls you out of the elevator so fast you could have gotten whiplash.

She pushes you into the 3rd door on the right before quickly closing the door behind her.

You've seen this room. This is the room from that... Dream? You saw. Wanda steps in front of you, looking up at you with is that.. lust in her eyes? No way.

"Wanda, what is-" you begin to ask before she cuts you off, reaching her hands to the side of your face, tilting your head to meet her eyes. "Your thoughts are very loud, возлюбленный (sweetheart)"

You're confused for a second until. Fuck. How could you forget "The mindreader" What the fuck how do you forget that.

You're about to start profusely apologizing, but before you can, she pulls your head farther down so your lips are hovering over hers.

Staring at your lips, she asks, "Do you want to act on them?" looking back up into your eyes.

Fuck.

You lean in to meet her lips and lift her up as she wraps her legs around your waist her dress raising in the process. The kiss is fast and sloppy. Just the way you like it.

She's smiling, and she pulls herself tighter to you, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You reach up to put a hand to her jaw as you lay her on the bed, never breaking the kiss. You try to savor the moment, not wanting to rush too much, but she has other plans. She reaches a hand down to grab your pants and pull your hips to grind into her center.

You let out a groan as you give in and start rubbing yourself against her, giving her the friction she desires.

Quickly, however, this begins to not be enough for the witch as her hand moves over to your belt buckle as she tries to open it. She gets impatient and her failed one-handed attempts, and her eyes flash red as your pants literally fly off of you, leaving you in only your boxers.

Surprised and half confused, you pull away for a second, but she's not having it as she pulls you back to her and flips you both over so she's on top of you.

She grinds her hips up and down your full length, her dress now high enough that you can feel her warmth through her thin panties. She moves her kisses down your jaw and to your neck. All you can do is grip her hips and tilt your head to give her better access.

She lifts the bottom of your shirt and starts kissing down your torso before sitting up. At the loss of contact, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at her in a confused daze.

"Take it off," she demands, and you quickly throw your shirt over your head. You look back at her as she stares at your torso, admiring you.

You begin to grow uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Seeming to sense it, she leans back in to kiss you. She moves your hands to the bottom of her shirt, wrapping your fingers around the bottom of her dress. "Take it off," she whispers against your lips. You nod quickly, gathering the bottom of her dress and lifting it over her head.

Oh shit. She's not wearing a bra. You've been trying to contain yourself, but it is proving somehow harder than you expected.

She grabs your wrists to move your calloused hands and places them on her hips, slowly moving them up her curvy sides until you reach her breasts, where she places her hands over yours to squeeze and knead her.

You don't need to be told twice. You take to massaging her on your own, sitting up to kiss her. She allows you one kiss before pushing you back and placing her hands on your shoulders to support herself as she resumes grinding down on your now fully hardened member, eyes closing.

If she doesn't stop soon, you're going to finish before her. You can't have that.

You move one hand to her side and one to her face before flipping you both back over.

She looks angry for a second, but you begin an almost attack on her neck as you begin grinding against her warmth again.

Her eyes close as one of your hands slides down her side towards the waistband of her underwear. You slide your fingers just ever so slightly underneath and run them slowly across back and forth.

You move your mouth up to her ear before whispering, "Do you want me to touch you, Wanda?" And you pull back to look into her eyes.

She nods quickly and grabs the back of your head to pull you into another searing kiss.

You slowly slide your fingers down until you reach her warm center and groan as you feel how wet she is. You slide your fingers up and down from her entrance to circle her clitoris and back.

She moans loudly into your mouth at the sensation.

You move your kisses back to her neck and then down to her hardened nipples as you slide your fingers into her.

At this, she digs her nails into your back while arching off the bed, moaning loudly. It doesn't take long before she's wiggling and writhing, but just before she finishes, you'd gently pull your fingers out.

She whines at the loss, sitting up. "Why'd you store? Please don't stop."

You smile, moving up to kiss her. "Don't you want to play out your little show from earlier?" you whisper.

You place a hand on the back of her head, pulling her up onto her knees while you stand up, still kissing her. You then bend to grab her waist and, in one motion, lift her up and flip her over legs over your shoulders pussy against your face.

She lets out a small yelp, which quickly turns into a moan as you dig in. She wastes no time before fumbling to get your boxers off, 8" of you slapping her in the face.

She moves to taste you moaning as she does.

Her mouth plus the vibrations of her moans make you rethink if you'll stay stable enough to hold her, but you know you must power through.

You both continue your acts on each other like your lives depended on it.

You knew it wasn't long before you would climax, whether you liked it or not, but you just hoped you were good enough for her to be in the same situation.

You soon became confident that your hopes were true as her thighs began to squeeze your head like she was trying to crush a watermelon.

As you felt yourself getting closer, you couldn't help but begin thrusting into her mouth, though trying to keep it gentle, you could only control yourself so much.

With a little more moaning and groaning from both of you, you knew you would break soon. Just when you thought you couldn't hold it anymore, you heard a loud moan from Wanda and felt her reach to massage your balls, forcing you to climax with her.

You tried your best to stay upright somehow successfully before walking over to lay her on the bed. You move on top of her and move lower to clean her up with your mouth. She whines at the stimulation, and you rub a gentle hand over her stomach before moving to get up.

Once you're standing and about to gather your things, you hear a disgruntled sound come from the sleepy witch before you're lifted up and placed under the covers beside her.

You aren't complaining, and you're crazy tired, so you scoot closer and she rolls to lie her head on your chest.

Masterlist

A/N: Sorry its short and probably not as well written as some of my other works I have to written in forever and also haven't been reading as often

@natashamaximoff-69 @i-dont-know-what-iamdoing @diaryoflife @cd-4848 @r3dheadenthusiast @bishopscheeseburger @winterstorm311

If you want to be tagged and weren't or your tag didn't work you can join/ rejoin the taglist

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 32

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n everybody. stay calm.

previous | masterlist | next

---

"Do you want to go for a walk?" you suggest one glass in, when it becomes clear that you won't be reaching the level of drunk you'd been aspiring to tonight. Not that you'd been aspiring very high anyway; you'd already learned, somewhere in between a myriad of training years, that drinking only caused more problems the next day. Just like smoking, or spending the night with some boy you knew would get cut from the program long before any debut came around to cause problems.

Not that it was hard to find a boy like that, back in the day; most of them were the left-overs from Stray Kids, with no new make debuts in sight. Or that your dating life had even found time to really thrive, when you filled every hour with work.

Anyway, you ask him to walk, knowing that he will say yes, and so you walk, shoulders close but not quite touching, all the way down to the river.

"Wow," he says when you get to the bank, staring out over the still, black water. "That's pretty." 

You agree before you even look, your own eyes mesmerised by the parklands around you. The night is still and cold, the stars blinking through the clouds overhead and your breath rising like a mist in front of you. It had snowed in the evening, a light, fresh coat of powder that just covers the ground. It will be gone in the morning, its beauty as transient as anything else's; but tonight, it feels a little like it fell just for you.

"It's cold," you remark, just to break the still and silent air, your chin finding the shelter of your collar. Chan turns away from the water, stepping close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.

"You wanted to walk," he reminds you as he slips an arm around yours and lets you walk close beside him, leeching off his body heat. "I told you not to."

"I didn't realise it had snowed," you admit. "It's the end of winter. It's not supposed to snow anymore."

"You control the weather now?" he asks, and you slap the arm of his jacket, causing more noise than anything else. "Do you think it snowed just to annoy you?"

"No, it snowed because Jeongin cursed us earlier." You glance back at the city, your apartment building lost in the haze of lights. "He said he hopes it doesn't snow for his graduation, so it's going to snow for the next two weeks now."

"His graduation." Chan pretends to wipe away a tear, even as you smack his arm. "Our little baby, all grown up."

"He's only graduating," you say, watching how he smirks. "He's not getting any older."

"Not like us," Chan sighs. "We get older every day."

"Speak for yourself."

The grin flashes once more across his face and then fades again. "It's so weird, seeing him graduate. He was so small when he joined the company. Unconfident, or whatever the word is."

"He was cute," you agree. "He was my favourite part of the survival show."

"I still can't believe you watched that." His head shakes, even as he smiles. 

Your laughter rises into the still air. "Of course I did," you say on the end of your breath. "I watched everything. I'm the biggest Stay there is now."

"Oh?" His eyebrow raises. "Do you have a bias, then?"

"Why? Are you hoping that it's you?"

"No, no, no," he says, a fraction too early to be casual. "Just wondering."

"Oh." You pretend to be disappointed, kicking at the snow on the ground. "Well, I'm not going to pick you if you aren't going to be excited about it."

"I could be excited about it." 

"You don't look very excited."

"My favourite idol is standing right next to me, so I'm trying to be cool about it."

You snort a laugh. "You're such a loser," you tell him wholeheartedly. It comes out affectionate anyway, just the same as the squeeze he gives your arm in response, his fingers trying to pinch you through your thick winter coat. "Or a shameless flirt. Do you ever wonder why you have like, a million girlfriends?"

"What, Stay?" he asks, his ears turning red. "I don't know why they say that. I didn't do anything."

"You don't even know when you're flirting," you say sadly, shaking your head.

"I know when I'm flirting," he says. "I'm just not flirting with them."

"Who are you flirting with, then?"

He refuses to meet your eye when you look at him, staring out at the river instead, like there is something of extreme interest out there in the still water. "No one," he says defensively.

Weird. Your conversation with Changbin earlier runs through your mind again, narrowing your eyes even as he avoids them. Your mouth almost opens to ask him, just on instinct; and then stops, because you're not entirely sure that he would answer if you did. Or that you want to ask.

"Could have fooled me," you say instead, and watch him breathe out in relief. Weird; Changbin was right, that is the word for it. The way he's acting, the things he is and isn't saying...

"Sorry," he says, like he isn't sorry at all. "It's all a lie. I don't love any of you."

"Or Stay?"

"Nope." He pauses, glancing at the path ahead while he draws in a breath. "Especially not after today. They'll have to try a lot harder than that if they want my respect."

All the breath leaves your chest at once, surprise catching itself in your throat at the thread of vehemency that exists within the even cadence of his voice. "It was only a few of them," you say; though around the constriction of your own chest at the thought of it, you don't know why you're defending them. 

"It's more than a few," he throws back, before you can even decide if you're going to rally a proper argument or not. "I saw a picture of that banner you were talking about. It was..."

"Not worth crying over?" you guess wryly, ignoring the black feeling that twinges in your gut at the memory of it.

"No," Chan replies pointedly, ruffling your hat and the hair underneath. "It was cruel. Don't go around thinking that you deserved that."

"I don't think I deserved it." You take your time fixing your hair, brushing dark locks back away from your eyes. "I've worked for this. I just worry that I'm...wrong."

He is already shaking his head. "You're not wrong. I kind of wish you were, because then that would mean you don't spend every day working yourself to death."

"I'm not working to death."

"Just until your back gives out and your voice starts cracking."

You turn to look at him and the amused smile that hides in the corner of his mouth, affronted. "Excuse me," you say, the airs of your voice rising. "Jagiya, my voice never cracks. I'm a professional."

His smile grows wider, escaping from its prison to light up his face. "That's true," he admits. "It's kind of annoying, actually. You could set the bar lower."

"I can't do that," you answer. "You already told me I have to stop dancing. I can't be bad at both, what will I do then?"

"Visuals?" Chan's eyes narrow, peering at your face like he's evaluating you. 

You wave him away with one hand, ducking away from his scrutiny. "You want me to take Changbin's job? He'll be sad."

Chan shrugs. "We can deal with upset Changbin." You scoff and he laughs, a low noise that rumbles out from the centre of his chest. "Does this mean you're going to listen to me about the dancing, then?"

You can feel your cheeks turn red, the memory of your conversation earlier in the night playing fresh in your mind. You hadn't lied to him - you have been thinking about it, almost obsessively, since he'd sat you down there and told you in no uncertain terms that things would change. That you were the thing that needs to change, as embarrassing and frustrating and utterly confidence-breaking as it is. "Of course I am," you mumble, your voice constricted by some base desire to defend yourself against...what? Your pride? "I listen to you about everything. Why wouldn't I?"

"I wasn't sure," he replies simply, his voice neither accusatory nor pleading. "You were pretty...angry earlier. It didn't seem like you liked the idea."

"I don't like-" You stop yourself midway, forcing yourself to take a breath and collate your thoughts in a way that makes sense. "I don't think it's a good idea for the group. But I get where you're coming from and I...can agree that maybe I need to...tone it down."

"Tone it up," he amends, squeezing your shoulders. "Talk on stage like you do at home, go crazy."

"Do I go crazy at home?"

His head tilts, looking at you. "Not really," he admits freely. "You could try it though."

"I thought you told me I should be myself?"

"Don't use my words against me."

A laugh slips from you, bubbling softly from the back of your throat when you least expect it. It sounds nice in the night air, ringing just so to your attuned ear. It's almost as nice as when Chan laughs along with you, hushed to avoid breaking the stillness of the moment. You should laugh more often; and make him laugh, instead of watching his face pinch with worry. You could both use a little more of the carefree joy he's talking about.

"I deleted all of my social media," you blurt out without precedence, the sudden wish to tell him pressing through the apprehension that had held you back before. "I asked skijigi to manage bubble too. I just have to write something for her to post once a week or whatever."

"That's-" For a second, he is lost for words, his face awe-struck. "You didn't have to do anything today, you know. I only meant for you to think about it."

"I thought about it for the rest of the show," you reply. "I knew anyway. I've been pretending for months that I'd stop looking at fan comments, I just needed you to yell at me for me to...actually do it."

Acknowledge addiction, but you don't want to phrase it like that, not in the face of the wry smile he gives you. Nor do you tell him about the itch under your skin that begs you to go and look at the responses to your performance and your mistake. 

And the period of time when you'd disappeared together with no explanation.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was yelling," he says. "I was just trying to tell you-"

"No," you correct him before he can rush to explain a slight that hadn't occurred in the first place. "That was bad phrasing. You were - everything you said was perfect. And right."

"About everything?" he asks, and you nod. "Even about being yourself? Ignoring the company?"

Your answer is slow, your voice without breath as the weight of what he's asking settles upon you. "If you promise to tell me if - anything hurts the group. I - you said earlier that you don't care if we go home because the fans don't like me. I don't want you to think like that and then ignore things."

"Y/N." His arm is like a vise grip around your shoulders, holding on like you might slip away and disappear. "I said that because there's no way it will ever happen. And even if it did, I'm not leaving my whole career to depend on someone's misery. None of us want success like that."

Your mouth opens to protest, your feet stuttering on the pavement. "Don't argue with me," he says before you can speak. "Just accept that you're worth it, okay? To all of us. It's not that unbelievable."

Your mouth closes and then opens again, speechless. Your eyes watch the toes of your boots sinking into the show, your knees almost too weak to carry you. "I'm going to do it," you say, piece by piece. "I can't promise it will change anything though."

"It'll change what happened today," he answers, the level gaze of his eyes too intense for you to meet. "That's all I care about."

You don't know what to say in response, your heart floating on air and crashing to the ground all in the same moment. A breath of cold air saves you, the wind whipping away the shelter of your collar and stinging your cheeks as it whips past. Your hair knows and tangles in the wind; you shove your hat further down on your head and then huddle into your coat, hissing at the cold. "That's freezing," you comment, as if noting it will help to stave it off. "What are we doing out here?"

"You wanted to walk," Chan reminds you, the smug glee in his voice unmistakeable. "I told you it would be cold."

The tension drains from your body as his teasing tone returns, the warm nature of his voice pushing the previous discussion from your mind. "We should have had another drink before we went," you say, and you're surprised to find that you mean it wholeheartedly.

"Are you sure you could handle another one?" he asks. "You're already all sweet and sobby and weird."

"I only had one."

"And look, your face is all red."

You turn to look at him, the mist of his breath whispering past your face. "So is yours," you point out, your finger poking at the flush of his cheek. "You're being a lot weirder than me, too."

"Am I?" he asks, indulgent.

You nod. "Even Changbin messaged me to ask what was up with you earlier."

He frowns, his mouth curving like he's going to pout. "What does that mean? I wasn't being weird earlier."

"I don't know." You shrug, and his arm squeezes your shoulder, pulling you closer again. "I didn't think you were doing anything strange."

"But I am now?"

Your feet ease to a stop in the shadow between streetlights, slipping out of the reach of his arm so that your eyes can search his face, like you'll find the answer written across his forehead or something. He waits patiently, his lips pressed together to hold back a smile while you make your judgement, his eyes daring you to accuse him of something. 

"You tell me," you say after a moment, and you watch with fascination as uncertainty flickers over that face as his confidence crumbles from the inside. You're sure then that he's hiding something, even as he swallows what he's feeling and lifts his chin again, assessing.

"There is actually something I've been meaning to tell you," he says slowly, in the kind of voice that makes your heart suddenly leap and skip a beat in your chest, all of your skin suddenly alive to the touch of his hand against the back of yours, the shift of the air in the yawning space between you. "Although I think you already kind of know."

"Do I?" You search your memory for what he could possibly be talking about, confusion creasing your face, and come up short. Hadn't you just been talking honestly about the day, and the future, and the secrets you might have been withholding from each other? Hadn't he already said everything nice about you that there could possibly be to comment on? You continue down the list, past what he's already said to what he might say next, but still, you don't know - you've talked about your life, and Jeongin, and the future of Stray Kids, and whether or not he is flirting-

Why would you think that, you scold yourself, right as he says, "I don't know if it's good or bad news though."

Your heart lodges itself firmly in your throat without thinking, your chest squeezing - but not with the same black feeling of anxiety that usually plagues you, only some stupid thrill of something like butterflies. "You know you're going to have to come clean now, right?" you ask, trying to play like you're not holding anticipation so tight in your chest at the direction your thoughts are going that it feels like your ribs might cave in; and pretending that there isn't the possibility that you might like it.

"Yeah, I know," he says, and suddenly he can't quite look at you, his head ducking and then turning to look out at the river, the lights, anything but the situation he is creating. Not that he's trying to run away; rather, his weight shifts an inch closer, like two moons that can't pull away from each other. "Now it's awkward though."

You smile in a way that you hope isn't giddy. "And whose fault is that?" you ask, teasing him in just the same way as he would you.

His head tips to the sky, mouth sighing out a breath of mist and hot air. "Mine," he admits freely. "It was a moment of weakness. I thought we were being wild and irresponsible tonight."

"There's still time." You reach out for his hand, lacing your fingers together pointedly. "I can be irresponsible if you can."

"Can you be my friend even if I say something really stupid?" he asks. "At least until we walk home?"

You eye him warily. "Is it that bad?" you ask. 

"No!" he hurries to answer, before you can get any ideas. "It's fine, I swear, it's just-" He stops himself short, drawing in a breath instead of spilling words out on one and composing himself. It's a trick you should learn, you think as you watch it, as he turns back to you and sets his jaw and lines the words up in the back of his throat, right before he starts to speak. 

"I like you," he says, devastatingly blunt.

Your mind freezes, and then starts spinning again twice as fast.

You're pretty sure he can see the race of your heart in your chest, the shock that widens your eyes and sets your spine ram-rod straight. Your mouth opens to say something, and then stops before you can blurt out something stupid like, of course you do, we're friends, or what's that supposed to mean or I like you too. Be cool, you tell yourself instead, sending the instruction sternly to your heart and the fluttering in your chest like it will help. If anything, it only makes the world around you spin more, the river and the stars and the dim light of the lanterns that line the path blurring together into a background of black and grey that pinpoints your focus on only one thing.

Him.

"Sorry," he says again, though even he doesn't seem to understand what he's apologising for. "That's confusing. I - am in love with you? I have a big, stupid crush on you. And I know that it's not...ideal, when we have to work together forever, and I will not be offended if you turn me down, or even sad, I just wanted you to know because we keep promising not to lie to each other and it feels like I'm lying to you all the time-"

You don't think before you step forward, your mouth shutting him up as effectively as any words would.

It's simple and fleeting, your lips pressed to his and your hands curled around the lapels of his jacket. His mouth is soft and accepting, a gasp catches in the back of his throat, and then-

And then he pulls away, his eyes wide and his chest heaving in a startled breath. You can feel the movement of his ribcage under his jacket - stunned, you let go, ducking your head as shame fills your cheeks. Crazy, you chastise yourself, before his open mouth can even begin to say it for himself. That's not what he meant. That's not what he wanted.

His hands reach for you first, fingers grazing the edge of your jawline. The soft cup of his palms forces you to look up at him again, into those soft brown eyes you're too afraid to meet-

He kisses you again, harder this time. Desperate, and hungry, his mouth searching and his body so close that the heat of his skin sets you alight too. There's no escape, but there isn't anywhere you want to go anyway - not when you can stay here in this moment forever, captured in the taste of his mouth and the soft touch of his fingers sliding along the back of your neck. You emerge, breathless, only when he pulls away again, staring at you like there is nothing else in the world worth seeing.

"That feels like it was a mistake," you say quietly, though you can't miss the gaping hole in your tone where the regret should be.

"Sorry," Chan answers, and puts another inch of space between you. "If you didn't want-"

You reach up again, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I wanted," you answer firmly when you are sure he's speechless, your fingers curling into his shoulder. "I don't think it was the smartest thing to do, but...I wanted. So I did." His eyes look at you like they don't believe you, his mouth opening again to issue some guilt-free ticket out. "You told me to do whatever I wanted."

A surprised laugh sputters out of his mouth. "I didn't think that you felt the same way," he answers.

"Neither did I," you say slowly. "I didn't even realise it was an option."

"I thought you already knew," he says, bemused.

"No?" you say. "Why would you think that?"

"Because - it was something you said earlier. It doesn't matter." He waves it away before you can probe any further, his fingers landing in the length of your hair, messing with the dark locks. "Does this mean you'll still be my friend while we walk home?"

The back of your hand thumps solidly against his chest, a stupid giggle bursting from his mouth at the sound that it makes. "This is serious, you know," you tell him, but there's a laugh hiding in the back of your throat as well, threatening to break free at the face he pulls at you. "We can't just-"

His mouth swallows the words that are about to spill out of your own, shutting you up more effectively than anything he could have said. "Greedy," you murmur when he pulls away and he laughs, the warmth of his breath ghosting across his face. 

"I wanted," he says, his voice so low that even if there were other people around, only you would hear it. "So I did."

You hit him again. He laughs.

"Let's go home," he says, turning you back the way you came with the hand that he takes in his own. "It's too cold out here for this."

"For what?" you ask insistently, even though you follow along too giddy and willing to sell the ire in your voice. You feel kind of like you're floating - like all the alcohol has hit you at once. Like you've just won something that you've wanted your whole life, even though you only realised you wanted it in the last ten minutes. 

"For whatever you're trying to argue about now," he tells you, ever patient, and drags you onwards. "And another drink."

"That's all?" 

"What else do you want?"

Your answer hesitates for a moment, even at the sight of the cunning smile that plays on his lips, waiting for you to speak. I don't know, you almost say simply out of habit; and then stop yourself short, because this time, it isn't true. This time, you do know what you want, and you have it right here in the palm of your hands.

And for once, you look at him and there is not a doubt in your mind that you know what he is thinking. What he wants, what he is brave enough to admit even when you were too scared to so much as consider it. You, and him, and nothing else, not for tonight.

"I don't want anything else," you answer, quiet but true, the smile on your face so much softer than the nervous, giddy energy that jolts through your veins at the thought of it. "Just what I already have. That's enough."

"Me too," he answers, and squeezes your hand as he leads the way home.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[allthingsfangirl101]

Over-Protective Wingman – Jake Seresin

I wasn't nervous as the plane landed on the new ship. I wasn't nervous as someone showed me my barracks. I wasn't nervous as I met Captain Mitchell. I wasn't nervous when I followed Captain Mitchell. I wasn't nervous when Captain Phillips introduced me to the other recruits. I wasn't nervous until my eyes landed on my old wingman, Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Also known as Hangman.

His reaction wasn't what I expected it to be. The second he saw me, he let out what seemed like a disappointed sigh and turned back around. I followed Maverick to the front of the group and stood there while he introduced me. It was clear that Jake was trying really hard not to look at me.

Part of me wished he would.

Two years ago, Lieutenant Jake Seresin and I were training together. One day, we ran through a make-believe mission. We were working on quick maneuvers. At one point, I rounded the corner and suddenly alarms were ringing. I tried to figure out what was wrong, but couldn't tell. I soon lost complete control of my plane. I had no choice but to eject.

Search and rescue found me in under an hour. I was taken back to the ship. My injuries were small, and I only had to be in the infirmary overnight. I was, however, forced to go on medical leave for three weeks.

Ever since that flight, Seresin wasn't the same. He was in the infirmary when I woke up and even escorted me to my sleeping quarters. I'm convinced he would've stayed with me if there hadn't been a rule about trainees being in each other's quarters past curfew. When I returned to training, I noticed him watching me a lot more than he used to.

I didn't have time to overanalyze his shift. A few days later, we were sent to different bases. I'm not sure where he went, but I guess I know now.

I walked over to my plane and checked a few things. After my crash, I always manually check every little thing. Right as I was finished checking the ejection lever and parachute, I felt someone's eyes on me. I turned around to see Jake standing by his plane. I expected him to look away, but he didn't. So, instead, I walked over to him.

"Were you ever going to come say hi?" I teased.

He looked away and slightly cleared his throat. When he looked back at me, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

"It's good to see you, Y/N."

"It's good to see you, too, Seresin," I said, studying him.

"What have you been up to?" He asked, nervously shoving his hands into his jumpsuit pockets.

"Nothing much," I shrugged, hating this weird tension between us. "I trained at a base that people aren't supposed to know about, got really good at maneuver statistics."

We looked at each other, and it felt like everything froze. I didn't move as he took a step closer to me. When he finally spoke up, his voice was soft.

"It still drives me crazy that we never knew what happened with your ship."

"Actually," I hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed as he took another step closer to me.

"You know?"

"Part of the reason I didn't return to training right away is because we had reports of one of the people we were training with not being who we thought they were."

"Wait," he interrupted. "Y/N, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"We were training with a traitor," I sighed. "Their plan was to take us out, one by one. They started with me."

"Who was it?" He asked the second I took a breath. I didn't want to tell him. I couldn't. I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to tell him the truth.

"Y/N," he said slowly, "who was the traitor?"

"Hanson."

My heart sank when Jake started shaking his head. I watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, probably going back through our training. Seresin and Hanson flew together. They were each other's wingman.

"He was. . ."

"I'm really sorry, Jake," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. I could practically see the wheels turning.

"I guess that explains it," he mumbled.

"Explains what?"

"Why Hanson was "transferred" out of our unit after your accident."

He looked back at me, and things felt weird. "You okay?" I asked because I couldn't think of what else to say.

"Yeah," he said, smiling shyly at me. "I'm fine."

I started to walk away, but he gently grabbed my arm. "It really is good to see you, Y/N. I look forward to flying with you again."

Maybe things will go back to the way they were before my accident.

* * * * *

I was wrong.

A week into training, Jake and I were flying the course. The entire time, it felt like Jake was right behind me. I turned the corner, and he turned less than 15 seconds later.

"Seresin, what the hell are you doing?"

"You're too tight on your turns," he said.

"She's fine, Hangman," Maverick's voice came over the speaker. "Back up a little. If you get too close, you'll both crash."

We continued to fly the route, but Jake stayed where he was. I gasped when he suddenly flew around me and cut me off. His movements made me over-correct, causing me to almost slam into the mountain.

"What the hell?!"

"Both of you, get back here. Now!" Maverick instructed.

I angrily grunted as I turned my plane around. The entire flight back, I kept an eye on Jake's plane. When I caught of glimpse of Jake in the cockpit, I could tell he was tense.

My anger was fuming as I landed on the ship. I didn't get out of my plane right away. Instead, I waiting for him to land. I tightened my hands into fists when he finally landed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yelled as I jumped out of my plane and started walking toward his plane. He climbed down and tore off his helmet. "That was sloppy, Seresin. Your moves were sporadic. You acted before thinking it through. In other words, you could've gotten one of us killed!"

"You were cutting your corners," he accused.

"Excuse me? My corners were fine. You were the one riding my ass!"

"I was making sure you kept to the path."

"Kept to the path," I scoffed. "Last I checked, I'm not the one of us who is known for being reckless in the sky, Hangman."

"That's not fair," he said through a clenched jaw.

"And hovering over me like I've never flown before is?" I shot right back. I took my hair out of the bun and ran my fingers through the tangles. "Jake, we can't keep doing this. Ever since I was transferred, you've been jumpy and on edge. Is it because of me? Do you not feel safe flying with me or something?"

"No," he answered quickly. "It's just. . ."

"Then what is it?" I asked when he hesitated. "What's going on with you, Jake? You've been acting strange ever since I got here. Almost like you're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Y/N."

When he looked up at me, it felt like someone had stolen my oxygen. A thick tension fell between us the longer we stared at each other. A distant crash broke our weirdly intense eye contact.

"Then why are you only near me when we're flying?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Because I'm worried about you," he sighed.

"You don't need to worry about me," I said gently. "I'm fine, Jake."

"I will always be worried about you, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping as he took a step closer to me. "Ever since I almost lost you on that mission back in training. . ."

"Jake," I whispered when he didn't continue. I closed the gap between us and gently grabbed his hands. "We have gone through this; I wasn't hurt. I ejected from my plane, and the search party found me. All I had were some bruises from the harness, scratches from falling through the trees, and a concussion from landing."

"It took the search team 43 minutes to get to your location," he said, sounding odd.

"Jake. . ."

"I raced back to the ship," he continued, "and I stayed on the tarmac until the rescue team landed. I followed the gurney all the way to the infirmary until one of the nurses stopped me. I waited outside the entire time they checked on you."

"You were right there when I woke up," I remembered.

"I was terrified," he whispered. "I thought I lost you, Y/N."

"But you didn't," I tried to soothe him.

"Will you stop?" He sighed, walking away from me. I watched as he started pacing back and forth. "Why do you keep acting like nothing happened? You almost died, Y/N! After that day, I haven't been able to stop imagining the search and rescue team not finding you. Or finding you, but finding you too late. I can't stop imagining losing you."

"Jake," I said, grabbing his arm and making him stop pacing. "All the things you've been imagining didn't happen. It wasn't even that big of a crash."

"How are you so okay with what happened?" He asked. "I'm not."

"You want to know the truth?" I sighed. "Jake, the Navy forced me to go on medical leave, remember?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I called you every day."

"You did," I smiled. "Healing from my wounds was not the only thing I did over those three weeks."

"What are you talking about?"

My heart sank when Jake's voice broke. It was then that I realized just how much my crash messed with him.

"I talked to a therapist," I explained.

"You did?"

"I did," I nodded. "We talked about the accident, what I felt, my anxieties about coming back. It really helped me through it, and I hope you don't mind me saying this, but maybe you should try it."

"I don't need therapy," he said, his voice slightly changing.

"I know how it sounds," I said quickly. "But talking to someone really can help. All they do is listen and give you advice and tools to help you through it. It works, Jake. Talking to them once really helps you feel better. It worked for me. It can work for you, too."

I stopped talking when he suddenly grabbed my face. He didn't say anything as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. My eyes fluttered closed as I kissed him back. He took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer to his chest. I threw my arms around his neck as we gave in to the kiss. We broke apart when neither one of us could breathe. Jake leaned his forehead against mine as we caught our breaths.

"See?" Jake whispered, his forehead still pressed to mine. "I already feel so much better."

"Jake," I whispered. "What are we doing?"

He reached up and moved some hair out of my face. "As much as I like being your wingman, I can't only be your wingman."

"I don't understand," I stuttered. To answer me, Jake pulled me into his chest and kissed me again. We let out matching moans when he gently pushed me up against the side of his plane.

"Seresin! Y/L/N! Where are you guys?" Rooster yelled, making us break apart. "Maverick wants to review your flight with you."

"We'll be right there!" Jake yelled back. I laughed and slightly shook my head. I started to walk away, but he grabbed my hand.

"We're not done talking about this, Y/L/N," he said, his voice low.

"I know," I said, matching his tone. "My place. After training. I'll order dinner. You bring the beer."

"I'll be there."

[cherryrikis]

DIGI-CAM

PAIRING idol bf!jay x non idol gf!reader

WARNINGS none, but light kisses

GENRE fluff

SYNOPSIS while on break mid concert, jay can’t help but allow himself to be distracted by you. and of course, you always have to take a picture on your digicam.

it was about halfway through the concert. and fortunately, the last show of the fate plus tour.

jay had about 10 minutes before he was supposed to go back on stage. he was already changed, just waiting for heeseung, jungwon, and riki to finish up so they could rotate.

he was going to sit next to you backstage and watch them perform from the monitor. going. past tense.

but when he saw you in your concert outfit, holding your lightstick as you watched heeseung sing, jay couldn’t resist. he brought you away from the monitor and took you back to his dressing room.

he sat on the couch, pulling your hand, motioning for you to sit on his lap. and you happily complied, taking the seat since it was rightfully yours. you had your legs on either side of him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he brought his to your waist.

jay began to press light kisses on you, trailing down from your cheek, to your jaw, down to your neck, and all the way to your clavicle.

“baby, what are you doing?” you giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear as you leaned further into him.

“what? i can’t love my girlfriend?” he mumbled, continuing his motions before bringing his head up. he pressed a long and loving kiss against your lips before pulling away to look at you.

“you have to go back soon.” you whispered. “what if someone comes in?”

“let them see. nothing the staff doesn’t already know.” jay sighed, pulling your chest against his. you could hear his heart beating faster as you pressed your ear against it.

“why are you so nervous my love?”

“been so long since i saw you. i missed you.” he smiled into your hair, playing with it a bit.

“it’s barely been 3 weeks.” “that’s still long. i can barely go a day without hearing your voice.”

“sweet talker.” you poked your tongue against your cheek, pulling away to kiss him again. you brought your hand up to his cheek, stroking his soft skin in a comforting manner.

jay moved down, sucking on your bottom lip before jungwon came in, knocking on the door.

that’s when jay realized your time was up. “jay, time to go. hi yn!” “hi jungwon!” you waved happily. jungwon smiled, before closing the door.

“guess i gotta go now.” he pouted. “but, you’ll be here waiting for me, won’t you?” “of course. i’ll be right here, waiting.” you cooed.

jay carefully pulled you off his lap, treating you as if you were porcelain and he was too scared to break or damage you. he got up off the couch, but paused as you pulled his arm. “wait!” you said.

you pulled your small digital camera out your pocket. you pressed your cheek against your lovely boyfriends, snapping the picture, as you both posed and scrunched your noses.

“tradition.” you say, tapping his cheek before letting him go with one last kiss. “love you.” “i love you too.”

it was indeed your little tradition. before jay would perform or have an evaluation, you would always be there, taking the picture with the same pose on that same camera. your tradition since he was a trainee.

you scrolled through all the pictures on your camera, looking back at at the years of memories. and you smiled.

enjoy this fic? read similar works here!

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA MY ONE TRUE LOVE!!! CAN I HAVE SOME PERCY AND TONKS CONTENT TO MAKE MY SOUL CONTENT PLEASE ✨✨✨

There are several titles that fall under the auror. When the ministry was first established, it was just inferior and superior, meant in the Latin way, but that fell out of favor rather quickly for obvious reasons. There was some talk of adopting the ranks of a legion used by the Romans, but since such ranks are still in practice in magical Italy, it didn’t the smartest idea. Tonks thinks that it was probably a Zabini who suggested it. Now their ranks are just numbered, from fifth to first, and junior, standard, and senior.

Everyone starts the same – fifth ranked junior auror – and works their way up one by one. Training is a year and if they make it through that, they’re a junior agent who better make it up to the first rank by the end of their third year, otherwise they’re likely getting cut.

There’s a track to speed through the junior phase and get to the land of securely employed standard auror, but that’s for people that have combat or specialized experience, usually for people who aren’t entering auror training straight of school like she is. Or for when they’d needed to replenish their ranks during the war and those applying had been fighting anyway.

Which is why she’s looking in confusion at the thick roll of parchment that Shackbolt has shoved under her nose. She’s only a couple months into training and while she thinks she’s doing pretty good, she’d also tripped over her literal two left feet during the first week of boot camp. Sometimes she changes in her sleep and doesn’t notice for a while, okay? It’s not like she did it on purpose. She’s pretty good at dueling, her mother made sure of that, but they haven’t even gotten to that part yet. “I’m confused.”

“Fill this out and give it back to me by the end of the week,” he says, already turning away from her.

She makes her arm extra long so she can grab his elbow before he gets too far away. “But I don’t have anything that qualifies me! There’s no way Bones will approve this.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks down at her arm. “Are you sure about that, Trainee?”

Oh. But she hasn’t really gotten a chance to show those skills off either, and being a metamorphmagus is impressive, but not that impressive. But she does as she’s told, leaving it on his desk and trying not to think too much about it.

Bones approves it.

Being on the advanced track has it advantages – blessed job security – but it also means she just gets a jump on desk duty, really. Apparently they don’t just send newly minted aurors out to battle dark wizards to the death, for some reason.

She sighs. She’s never been very good at paperwork.

How very not good she is at is proved when during her very first week when Percy Weasley shows up at her desk, looking even more sleep deprived than he had as a runty fourteen year old, which is impressive. He’s a lot taller now. Late growth spurt, perhaps. Or maybe she just wasn’t paying that much attention. He drops a stack of paper on her desk and she recognizes her own messy scrawl. “These are filled out incorrectly. I can’t process them like this.”

Her shoulders slump. She’d tried to pull other reports and fill them out the same way, but it was all so confusing. How she’s supposed to know how to categorize these things? Why are there thirteen different codes for a house robbery, anyway? And there are so many different sections, and she wasn’t even there, she just has other people’s notes to go off of, and they take notes like she did in History of Magic.

She’s going to be here all night redoing them and they’ll probably still be wrong and Kinglsey will regret ever pushing her through the advanced track and her mother will have been right, which is really the worst of all –

“Hey,” Percy says, and she blinks several times before looking up at him so she doesn’t embarrass herself. “I can – if you’re busy, I can just,” he reaches for the papers he’s dropped on her desk.

She slaps her hand over them to stop him, but instead his hand ends up trapped beneath hers. “No! No, it’s okay, I have to learn how to do this. It’s important.”

He stares at her with a look she can’t explain. “It’s just paperwork.”

“It’s my job,” she says stubbornly, “it’s all important. I’m going to be a great auror – the best auror. And that includes my paperwork.”

He smiles at her, which is suitably distracting from her own ruined night. She doesn’t know if he’s ever smiled at her before. He’d always seemed so stoic, nothing like his brothers. “All right. If you’re sure.”

“Yes,” she says, freshly determined, finally lifting her hand off his. Everyone else has figured out how to do this. She can too. She will. “But thanks.”

“No problem,” he says, then, “My dad has a muggle coffee pot in his department lounge. If you want. The password is rubber duck.”

She does prefer coffee made the muggle way. That’s how it’s made in her house, of course, with her muggle father, and there’s something to the taste that she thinks coffee loses after it’s third hour of being charmed hot or squeezed through by magic instead of just hot water and a little patience.

How does Percy know that?

Before she can ask, he’s already turned and walking away from her, and she barely has the chance to shout, “Thanks!” before he turns the corner.

[lieslab]

Too close to the sun

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: The janitor isn't supposed to fall in love with the k-pop idol, but fate is funny sometimes.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Take this as a reminder to please be aware of your surroundings when you're outside. Sometimes people are nothing, but dipshits. I conjured up this one after nearly being pulverized by a car. 10/10 do not recommend.

_ _ _

People pass off judgement too easily. It’s juggled between conversations and slipped into passing by thoughts. Those who do one small thing out of your norm. You can’t help, but give a brief thought and cast judgement. Whether you push that judgement out into the world and prepare to ruin someone’s day with a snide comment or unnecessary remark, that’s up to you and you alone.

You knew what judgement was. You experienced it most of the time when people found out what you did for work. As a janitor, you dedicated most of your time cleaning. Cleaning, sweeping, mopping, dusting. To most, it’s hard labor and not worth it. Coated with dirt, working with cleaning chemicals, and constantly doing the same thing over and over again. 

To some, it sounded like a never-ending nightmare. Filthy. Disgusting. Dirty. Gross. Something only the lowest of the low would do. Cleaning toilets and taking out trash. Who wants to do that? Nobody in their right mind wants to spend their job doing chores, but you did. 

You didn’t mind tidying things up. A strange aura of peace found you when you cleaned at your job. You popped in your headphones and floated throughout the building, going task from task, without much of a hassle. Someone had to keep the JYP building clean and shiny. As the night shift janitor, it turned into your job. 

Sometimes, you ran into idols practicing into the late hours of the night. Occasionally, you had to wait to clean certain dance practice rooms. The mirrors were wiped every night. The floors were treated with a specific floor cleaner, so you didn’t ruin the protective coating on the floor. 

The job paid well. After the first week of training, you were alone. The benefits seemed fair, so you felt secure. You felt settled into your job. Sure, you had moments of annoyance, everyone does at their job. 

Maybe you’d find an overflowing trash can that you wished someone would have taken out to the trash earlier. Mud slicked on the floor from the bottom of someone’s shoes. Now hardened, it took a bit of extra elbow grease to wipe it away. Most of the time, other than a few incidents, you stayed content. 

Working nights meant being awake when everyone else usually slept. The rising sun turned into a natural alarm clock for most. For you, the sight of the sun peeking into the upstairs windows settled exhaustion in your bones. Another night, another job well done, another reason to finish strong, so you could go home, shower, and climb in bed. 

The first time you ran into Felix, it was an accident. You were cleaning a practice room you skipped over. Minutes ago, the walls echoed with the music of a trainee. Evaluations were upcoming soon and they spent hours perfecting the dance, wanting to impress the senior group coming to judge them. 

The more time you spent there, the more you grew to learn about the company. Sometimes you found trainees and other times you spotted debuted idols. You were sure to keep a respectable distance and smile at those who seemed like they needed it. Some bid you hello and others kept their noses buried in their phone, too exhausted to utter the words to the janitor. You didn’t mind, you understood the idol life could be an exhausting cycle. 

You sprayed the mirror and began to wipe down the last of the smudges when the practice door room flew open. Felix stumbled inside with his blonde hair poked in every direction. Half-lidded eyes widened when they saw you. You glanced behind your reflection and smiled in the mirror. “Good morning.” 

“I’m sorry, I must be in the wrong practice room. I came to practice and I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and took a step back. 

“You’re likely in the right room. I should be the one apologizing to you. A trainee was up late dancing. I should have spent more time cleaning and less time giving him a pep talk. I couldn’t help myself. I know I’m just the janitor, but he seemed so nervous.” 

Felix’s face softened immediately. “That’s very kind of you. You definitely made him feel better. Conversations like that reignite the passion for this, you know? He better have remembered his manners and said thank you.” 

You chuckled and wiped down the rest of the mirror. Felix pulled out his phone to set up the sound system and hook the aux cord to his phone. You grabbed your remaining cleaning supplies and began to head to the door. 

“I’ll leave you alone for now. Good luck with your dancing. Don’t forget to take breaks and stay hydrated.” 

He glanced up from his phone. Dimples appeared along his sun-kissed skin. “Go home and get some sleep, you deserve it. Thank you for keeping the JYP building so clean. I’ll try to remind my members to keep the place as we found it.” 

You nodded and disappeared through the wooden door; unaware that a friendship planted itself on the second floor of the building. 

_ _ _ 

After that day, Felix began to pop up more often. Just as the clock crept closer and closer to seven, Felix appeared. The end of your shift, you tried not to, but sometimes you dragged your feet. The growing anxiety of wanting your shift to be over, so you could go home and climb into the warmth of your bed. You enjoyed your job, but you liked sleeping more. 

“I think you could use a pick-me up.” 

“Huh?” You uttered in confusion. 

Felix lifted a croissant wrapped in parchment paper in front of your face. He shrugged and smiled. “You do so much and everyone likes croissants, right? Fresh and still warm. I just purchased it from the canteen downstairs.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I didn’t have to, but you’ve been working so hard lately. Can’t I celebrate your efforts? JYP gets all the credit for keeping this place looking good when really, you’re doing it for him. He gets to take all the credit while you-” 

“It’s his building,” you cut him off. 

“You still deserve recognition and if nobody else will give it to you, I will.” 

_ _ _ 

You began to like Felix more and more. So much, your heart began to burst with butterflies when he appeared. Always bursting at the seams with compliments. Somedays, croissants and other days, banana muffins. On your birthday, he brought you a dish full of seaweed soup. 

The moment you saw the small thermos, you nearly burst into tears. “You made this for me?” 

“Yes and no. Did I make it? Kind of. I had assistance from one of my group members. They don’t leave me in the kitchen alone when I’m cooking. I can bake a variety of different things, but I’m not so good at cooking.” 

He handed it out with both hands. A subtle eagerness in his actions. Between the two of you, everything felt right, but you knew the truth. One day, this would pass. The idol doesn’t fall for the janitor that cleans up messes. No doubt, sooner or later, this would disappear, too. 

Because in real life, the happy endings are few and far between. Society says certain people don’t mix and you weren’t the exception. Status, race, religion, culture. Always a never-ending and gut-wrenching amount of people who view the world on a platter. 

As above and below. They will always strive for their perfect version of greatness. It doesn’t matter who they hurt to get there. Whether it’s your feelings or making you feel like a burden for the skin you wear, they do not care. People aren’t much different than animals, at the end of the day. 

People are selfish. They’re too controlling. Too small-minded and naive. Whether you let them control your life, that’s up to you. You knew Korean standards and you know if a certain member of management found out about this, you were doomed. The k-pop idol should not befriend those below them. 

You were just glad you could experience it while you could. 

_ _ _ 

Some people will do anything for money, even if that means creeping over boundaries and prowling around. If it means breaking the safety of a person and destroying parts of their life, it doesn’t matter. Secrets sell. Society is so hungry for drama and entertainment, it will stab you over and over again to receive it. It will throw you to the ground and abandon you for a sensational news story for one day and abandon you the next. 

You always felt safe in the JYP building. You thought the employees could be trusted. They went through background checks, too. They went through the extensive questioning and prodded into your personal life. They’d do anything to make sure you were a good fit and not a creep. 

So when a photo of Felix handing you a coffee while smiling hit the internet, your biggest fear came to life. Not potentially losing your job, but shattering Felix’s idol image. You knew there was nothing between the two of you. No romance involved, but fans always speculated. Their well-being reached too deep into the personal lives of idols. If you shattered your idol image, the management team would rip you to shreds after the fans gutted your carcass. 

Fear for Felix’s well-being appeared. When you showed up for work the next evening, you wanted to burst into tears. You thought the two of you had a good friendship. Over the past few weeks, you began to learn more and more about each other. You pushed your romantic feelings aside, knowing they’d cause issues. 

You spent the night scrubbing your hands raw. Ignoring your usual gloves and scrubbing the floors. Sweeping until your arms burned and wiping windows so aggressively, smears appeared again. You lost count of how many times you had to wipe down the dance practice mirrors again and again. 

On your hands and knees, down in front of a toilet, you couldn’t stand it. You got up, cleaned up your mess, and put your cleaning supplies up twenty minutes early. You scrubbed your hands, headed downstairs, and waited for Felix to show up. 

He’d be here at any time now. You’d talk and then you’d apologize. You’d willingly quit your job if the company wanted you to. You’d apologize relentlessly and do whatever it took to get the fans off your back. 

They were digging deep now. Searching the deepest parts of the web for anything about you. Your name, your family, your friends. Your social media would be scoured the moment they figured it out. They’d ring the phones of the buildings and refuse to stop until you lay broken and shattered; hanging your head in defeat at their actions, submitting and giving into everything you didn’t want to do. 

Felix never showed up that morning. He didn’t show up the next morning or the next week. By week two, you hadn’t been reprimanded by anyone, but you wish you would have been. That would be better than not seeing Felix at all. 

By the start of week three, you tried not to feel so upset, but it grew more and more difficult. You didn’t know Felix for long, but you missed his cheery mornings. You missed the pearly white smiles and his genuine caring nature. You missed the sunshine that greeted your long nights. You missed all of it. 

_ _ _ 

When you finished that morning, you disappeared out the back door. Straight into the parking lot, you dug your car keys from your pocket and began to trudge to your vehicle. Your shoulders slumped with defeat and a frown fell upon your face. You didn’t want to seem so glum, but you couldn’t help it. 

Left, right, and left again, your head jerked to look for oncoming traffic. Last night, a mixed storm covered the streets with a flurry of icy rain. As the temperatures dipped colder, the wet streets froze and turned into ice. Colder and colder until it hit freezing, the water droplets turned into oversized specs of snow. For hours, the night went silent and fell victim to winter’s quiet assault. 

Once you cleared the way, you put one foot out and began to slowly make your way across the parking lot. Your hands supported you at your sides. You did everything you could, trying to keep your balance. The engine of an oncoming car caused you to glance over. 

To your surprise, a truck quickly headed your way. You quickened your pace, trying to keep your balance, so you didn’t fall on your ass. Half-way across the walkway, dressed in a bright colored coat, you knew the driver saw you. You expected them to stop, but what you didn’t expect was the squealing of tires and roar of the engine as they slammed the gas. 

Your eyes widened. Rubber tires rutted against the ice and launched the truck your way. You moved quicker, nearly losing your footing. Closer and closer the truck came in your peripheral vision. Your brain screamed and you tensed up, waiting for the collusion. 

It never came. 

The driver jerked the steering wheel. At the last moment, the truck narrowly avoided your body and skidded around you. Catching ice, it drifted and the driver didn’t bother stepping on the gas. Instead, they jerked the wheel and aimed for your back. 

Fight or flight kicked in. You looked around desperately, trying to figure out where to go. The large parking lot had cars, but they were all further away. The engine revved and you could feel it. The ground rumbled beneath your feet. 

Adrenaline pumped through your veins. A foot slipped and your hands shot out to catch you, but the ground never came. Your opposite foot kept your balance. You kept trudging along, ignoring the snow soaking your tennis shoes. You managed to make it to the outside of a car and that’s when your brain screamed. 

Your body tensed. Your eyes squeezed shut. You could feel the warmth of the truck against the back of your body. All you could think about was how much the impact would hurt. Would your bones break between the two cars? Would you feel everything as your skin burned against the warm grill of the truck? The scent of diesel filled your nostrils and then- 

The sound of Felix calling your name made your eyes reopen. The person in the truck jerked the wheel. The vehicle spun again, roared, and changed directions. You glanced over your shoulder, just in time to catch them speeding out of the parking lot. 

Felix leaned out of the open back door with furrowed eyebrows. He called your name again and ventured after your outstretched shoe prints. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You didn’t respond. You didn’t move. At your sides, your fingers quivered. Your head spun and your stomach lurched. You spun around in distress. “Did you just see that?” 

“See what?” 

“The truck?” 

“What about it?” He frowned as he approached you. “I thought it was backing up. I didn’t pay much attention to it. Honestly, my focus was more on you.” 

“They just tried to-” Your words cut off. Your arms jerked around your body protectively and you blinked rapidly. The adrenaline cycled through your veins. You couldn’t believe what just happened to you. What did you do to deserve that? 

“They j-just tried to hit me and-”

“He what?” 

“I came out to cross the parking lot to go home and he hit the gas. The truck spun around and from behind he tried to-” Your words kept getting stuck in your throat. The ice-cold realization that you were nearly smashed to death settled in. 

Even if you weren’t killed, the pain would have been immense. Crushed bones and the feeling of your ribs being squeezed by invisible hands as the force from behind shoved your forward. Your eyes squeezed shut and your knees wobbled, unsteadily. “I need to go home.” 

“No way!” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “You’re as pale as a ghost and you’re not going anywhere. Come on, let’s get you back inside.” 

“Do you think it’s because of that photo between us? I-I didn’t mean to cause any harm.” Tears blurred your vision. Felix’s hand found your and you gripped it tight, too afraid to let go. “I-I thought we were friends. I didn’t mean to jeopardize your career.” 

“Shh,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about that right now. You just experienced something traumatic. Let’s get you inside and get you some hot chocolate, how about that?”  He jerked an arm beside you, causing you to flinch. He apologized and held the door open. 

You followed along on unsteady legs. Nausea built up in the pit of your stomach. As you followed, you replayed the scene, wondering if you did something wrong to set the person off in a fiery anger, but as you thought back, nothing stuck out. All you were doing was crossing the road. Sure, you were a little slow, but you were almost half-way across the road when they slammed on the gas. 

What kind of person mentally torments another person like that, for fun? 

_ _ _ 

It took nearly twenty minutes before you could speak about the incident to Felix. He pulled you into one of the dance practice rooms and settled you on the couch. You were alone, trying to process things while he went to get hot chocolate. When he came back, you still looked startled. Fear imprinted on your face. 

“Here, try this. I know it’s not the best remedy, but it’s what I have for now. It won’t fix what just happened, but I guarantee it’ll provide you with some much needed warmth.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. He smiled as you took the cup. “I’m sorry about all of this. I don’t know what I did or what they were thinking.” 

“Are you injured?” 

“Just full of leftover adrenaline and nausea. I wasn’t actually hit, so I’m not physically injured. I just can’t believe someone would try and do that. I caught a brief glimpse, it was a stranger.” 

“Did anyone see it?” 

“Nobody was around. The cars were all empty from what I saw. Did you-” 

“I wish I would have. I would have given that asshole a piece of my mind. What a fucking cunt. What a low-life loser, scaring someone just for the fun of it.” He rolled his eyes and tightened his hands around his own styrofoam cup. “Seriously though, you’re not injured?” 

“No.” 

“Good. That takes care of that. When my manager arrives, I’ll have him pull up the back camera footage. I know that he’ll know what to do. I’m sure we caught it on tape and we can report that loser to the cops.” 

You weakly nodded, trying to come back to reality. You took slow sips of your drink. It warmed you from the inside out. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you finally uttered. 

“Ah, yeah. I’ve been um…” He sighed and gripped his cup tighter. “I’m a total coward, I have to admit. I was so afraid of screwing up our friendship. I thought when that photo leaked between us, I thought you’d hate me. I didn’t think you wanted to see me. I don’t think I’d be able to bear it if you lashed out and yelled at me.” 

“I’m sorry my fans are a mess,” he continued. “You didn’t ask for any part of this. I wish I could-” 

“Hey,” you reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his knee. “I know. It’s not your fault. We both know there’s downsides to this industry.” 

He chuckled, “you could say that again.” 

“But I’d be lying if I said that your sudden disappearance didn’t hurt my feelings. Of course, I’m not mad at you. I thought we were friends, so your sudden disappearance stung.” 

“I like you!” 

Your eyes widened and your head jerked over. “What?” 

“Like, like, like. I like you. Romantically speaking.” His freckles flushed red. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at you from the corner of his eye, trying to study your reaction. “I-I’ve been trying to-” 

“You’re not joking about this, are you?” 

He shook his head, too embarrassed by his words to admit the truth. 

“I like like you, too.” 

“Wait, really?” Big, sparkling brown eyes met yours. The look of pure admiration and innocence caused your heart to swell. A smile began to tug at your lips as you nodded, but it never had the chance to form. 

“Screw the fans, screw management, and screw that asshole that tried to hit you.” He reached out, gently grabbed your chin, and his soft lips met yours. Wrapped in the artificial sweetness of chocolate, he took your breath away. 

Your eyes shut and you couldn’t breathe. The fight or flight faded. Stars blinded you and you slipped back against the couch. His body mirrored your actions and he pressed forward, chasing your body. Too addicted to your lips, he couldn’t stop. You stepped into his sunlight and let his warmth flood your system. 

When he pulled away, you were filled with something burning brighter than shock. He blinked a few times and grinned. The daze hanging in your eyes and swollen lips caused his heart to swell with pride. Cheekily, he uttered the words he’d been so afraid to say. “I think you’re officially mine now.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

“Please.” 

And that’s the story of how your prince charming saved your life. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[kpopslutsafterd4rk]

Change of heart

This whole thing started the night he comforted you after a terrible day.

You had shown up at his place in tears, your ex had texted, your manager was overworking and underpaying you, and your body felt heavy with stress. Yeosang opened the door in sweatpants, hair messy, eyes soft. One look at you and he stepped aside silently.

You curled up on his couch. He made tea.

He sat beside you without asking questions, just letting you exist.

You must’ve stared at him for too long. You noticed the curve of his mouth, the way his chest rose when he sighed, how his fingers absentmindedly tapped against his thigh.

Then you leaned in and kissed him.

He paused for half a second just long enough to give you a chance to stop, but you didn’t so he kissed you back. Slow. Exploring. Like he’d been holding back for too long.

That night, neither of you said much. You fell into bed like magnets. Clothes scattered on the floor. He kissed your shoulder when he slid into you the first time, eyes flicking up like he needed to know it was okay.

It was more than okay. He felt like home.

And it felt terrifying.

The next morning, you sat on his kitchen counter wearing his t-shirt and sipping coffee when he brought it up.

“So… that happened,” he said quietly.

You looked over the rim of your mug. “Yeah.”

He scratched his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. And I don’t think you are either.”

You stayed quiet, processing.

“We could… keep doing this. But no feelings. No jealousy. Just sex. If you want,” he added, glancing at you again.

You should’ve said no. You should’ve stopped it right there.

Instead, you said: “Okay.”

And just like that, you became friends with benefits.

And Yeosang became a habit.

It was never planned, but you always ended up in his bed. You’d be watching movies and end up with his head between your thighs. You’d come over to study and he’d bend you over the desk halfway through. You’d leave his apartment with trembling legs and flushed cheeks, every time saying “see you later” like it didn’t mean everything.

He was…different in bed.

He was rough and gentle at the same time, he touched you like he knew your body better than anyone even you did. Like he memorized your reactions and took pride in unraveling you, slowly at first, then mercilessly.

Some nights were fast and desperate. him fucking you against the wall, hands gripping your throat, your legs shaking from orgasm after orgasm.

Other nights were slower, more intimate. His tongue would explore you for what felt like hours, taking his time like he needed to taste every inch of you. Then he’d fuck you lazily, forehead to forehead, whispering things he wasn’t supposed to say.

“You feel like home.”

“Don’t look at me like that or I’ll fall for you.”

“Stay.”

You laughed them off.

Because you weren’t supposed to fall.

And neither was he.

But Yeosang had been unraveling for weeks.

He didn’t tell you he started noticing the way you hummed when you brushed your hair. Or how you always let him take the first bite of your food. He didn’t tell you that he smiled when he smelled your perfume on his pillows after you left.

And he definitely didn’t tell you that it killed him to imagine you with someone else.

But tonight might be the night where things change

Because as you leaned against the wall at San’s party, laughing with some new trainee, you felt the weight of a stare burn into your skin.

Yeosang.

He hadn’t said a word in the last hour. Just watched you from across the room, jaw set, drink in hand, expression unreadable but eyes absolutely dangerous. You knew that look.

Before you could react, he was moving. Fast.

“Come with me,” he said low, gripping your wrist firmly but not harshly.

“Yeosang—”

“I said come.”

He led you down the hallway, away from the music, away from the stares. He found the nearest empty bedroom and shut the door behind you, locking it with a loud click.

The silence that followed was loud.

“You like playing games?” he asked, stepping in close. “Is that what this is now?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he growled, trapping you between his arms. “You touched him like that on purpose. You laughed at his jokes like you forgot who’s been fucking you every night.”

Your breath hitched. “We’re not together, remember? That’s what you wanted.”

His jaw clenched. “I changed my mind.”

You blinked.

He grabbed your waist and turned you around, pressing your back to his chest, his voice low and dangerous against your ear. “I don’t want to see anyone else touching you. Not when you still have my marks on your thighs.”

Your knees weakened.

He shoved your skirt up with one hand, the other slipping between your legs to find the soaked lace of your panties. “Look at you,” he muttered, breath heavy. “You’re already this wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Yeosang—”

He turned you around and kissed you hard, messy, with tongue and teeth and all the frustration he’d been holding in for weeks. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed between kisses. “You make me lose my mind.”

Your hands clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He stripped, pushing you onto the bed with a hunger you hadn’t seen in him before. This wasn’t casual. This was personal.

He pulled your panties off and spread your legs open, staring down like he was about to devour you whole.

“No more pretending,” he said, lowering his face to your core. “You’re mine.”

You cried out as his tongue flattened against you, licking slow stripes, then flicking quick circles over your clit that had you arching into his mouth.

“Fuck, Yeosang—”

He moaned into you, tongue plunging deeper, hands gripping your thighs to keep you wide open for him.

“Say it,” he growled, lips slick. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you whimpered. “You. Only you.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

He climbed up your body, kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. Then he lined up at your entrance, locking eyes with you.

“This is going to be different,” he warned, voice trembling with restraint. “I need to feel all of you.”

You nodded. “I want it.”

He pushed in slow, but deep. You gasped at the stretch, your nails digging into his back as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed. “You feel too good. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

His thrusts started rough, deep and possessive, each one hitting with a rhythm that made your entire body jolt. He gripped your hips and pounded into you, sweat building between your bodies, moans filling the room.

“Tell me this is more than just sex,” he begged against your neck. “Tell me you feel it too.”

You cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I do—I feel it—I’ve always felt it.”

That’s when he lost control .

Yeosang slowed down, his movements becoming gentler but more emotional, like he was trying to pour everything he’d been hiding into you.

He cupped your face, kissed your forehead. “You’re not just some fling. You’re not just a good fuck. You’re everything to me.”

Your heart pounded, not from the sex, but from the truth.

He loved you.

And he wasn’t hiding it anymore.

When the orgasm hit, it tore through both of you like a wave. He buried his face in your neck as he came, whispering your name. You held him just as tightly.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - So Many GREAT Kisses!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

(Please notice I am now using 6 dots in all ellipses because according to Taiwanese BL that's how we queers roll. Who am I to argue?)

Sept 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - A most excellent glow up. And it’s still a great show. And I cannot wait to see the many different faces of War. Bring on the Leverage of One action-packed mess. I'm waiting.  

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 9 of 12 - I’m gonna say this because it drives me crazy. Why are boys in BL, when out and about the countryside, always dressed inappropriately for Thailand? If it’s hot, takeoff your damn jacket. I don’t mean to be crass or crazy or whatever. But don’t wear a jacket when it’s 90° with 90% humidity. In Thailand, jackets are for malls. Meanwhile, I’m an extrovert and that still seemed like an exhausting trip. Although, I suppose they didn’t show all the drive time in the van, when everyone is asleep.

Meanwhile, why are the sides so frustrating in this show? Authentic friends-to-lovers is always a slog. Finally a kiss! And a decent one.

New character? Aw! Hi Yu!!!! Gosh Putter is so cute.

Where were we? Oh yes, Beer is now heartbroken. Always the great fear in F2L that the friendship will be destroyed as a result. And it’s a decent fear. 

On a completely different note, I cannot help but wonder when somebody’s chue len is Beer, if that is because beer was involved in their conception. Like, it’s the name you give your "oops baby" from that drunken night at the club. Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in the corner being crass.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - That was one of the cutest wake up sequences ever depicted. Utterly adorable. And now he’s blind again? Oh my God this is such a soap opera, I can’t even. Meanwhile, wicked ice prince finally made his move. Gah! Why aren’t we getting more of this couple? I always love the sides best with this production house.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I love a hard fraught game of badminton. Even though we actually didn’t see play. YoIng claiming was so cute!!! And their shower kiss was v hot. Yay little show! Also cute use of the punishment trope!

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - The weight upon the shoulders of our idiot good guy kidnapper continues to pile up. So does the affection. The dude playing Q has sanpaku eyes. Cool. He’s not a particularly good actor though. Rough because everyone around him is giving their very best.

The problem is. I'm noticing. I shouldn't be noticing all the talent trying so hard. That usually means there is something wrong with the story, or there was something wrong on the set.

I don't know what to say at this juncture except I have the sinking suspicion this might not actually be a good show. (Covers head and cowers. Don't hate me.) I'd loved to be proved wrong, but my faith is GMMTV is only about 50% these days. And it probably should be lower.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 6 of 10 - I was so confused by how we suddenly got on a trip together, that I went back and re-watched the previous installment. And it still isn’t explained. So I have no idea why our leads are on a trip but apparently that’s the next trope to hit. I also have no idea how they're suddenly boyfriends. I’m just generally confused by this episode. It’s like an alt reality. We skipped over all of the stuff where they actually got into a relationship. In general I wasn’t wild about this episode.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 12fin - The most realistic thing about this show is that everybody is everybody else’s ex on any given set. I feel that in my bones. Or do I mean boner?

Frankly, both actors look better after a glow up and I guess pretending to be more their actual ages suits them? Considering what was actually done to invoke youth (a lot of the shine and gloss) aging them was an anti-glow up. A great mattification? Well...... this was a somewhat lackluster finale. (Thank you, thank you, the pun was unplanned. It's a gift.)

I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see Jane suffer? Work HARD to get the kid he abandoned back? I would’ve liked to have seen Ryan a little bit more competent and capable and his job. Maybe dating someone else. But I also do not want any more episodes. This was more than enough. So instead no separation, just boyfriends and a montage of their lives together, getting new and better jobs, moving in together, being supportive and sweet, etc... LOOK: It’s never a good sign when I immediately want to rewrite the show that I just saw.

In conclusion:

A story about a group of interns at a commercial video production company. While I genuinely love OffGun, I’m not convinced this was a good vehicle for them. Is it terrible for me to say, I miss their PickRome days? I don’t think they’ve ever had rolls that suited them better. Still, theirs was the best storyline in this ensemble piece masquerading as a BL, although they still fumbled the ending. Thus, I enjoyed about a 1/3 of it as much as possible, and 2/3 of it less than conceivable. 7/10 and I seriously considered dropping it to a 6/10 so don't push me.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 15 - Not gonna lie I was very skeptical. But I like it fine. Better than I expected because it’s been changed just enough. But it does need to stay changed. I don’t know what I’m trying to articulate here but…... I guess we’ll see.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 5 - It’s cute in a weird disjointed way. I’m enjoying it enough, I guess. I do like how forthright and direct Kla is. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Ah. Bully romance. My old frenemy. Of course making this office based means +10 for workplace harassment. Well well well. This will be red flag party town I see. How VERY old school yaoi. It’s all very Cdrama CEO = dudes in suits walking on parquet (minus all the gay sex of course.) The jumping around between times and unfinished scenes is very strange. Is this Starhunter chaos only applied to a timeline?

Imma say this so they hear it at the back. YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE HAIR. If you do time jumps: change. the. hair. It's the easiest and best clue if you aren't going to apply a filter or other cinematography tricks. JUST CHANGE THE DAMN HAIR STYLE.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - And now we all start using six dots in our……? A new coded way to indicate that one is into BL? I did think we were in a slight mire with ep 9, too much teacher filler. Not enough time spent with our boys. Meanwhile, sports day. Pouty Baby utilizing the power of Ge, in front of all of the classmates who do not realize how hard he is flirting and activating babygirl = one of the greatest things ever to happen on my screen. Essentially this was a version of the claiming trope, only nobody knew it but the two of them. Fucking genius. Yes, I watched it multiple times. Then babygirl is injured, the carrying and the flirting!!!! Gah!

I don’t mean to trivialize the show, but this is me and I can trivialize everything even something as brilliant as this. But that conversation about history at the beginning of ep 10...... Was that about topping and bottoming? Because it sure seemed that way.

And then...... Possibly the best only one bed trope twist ever?

This show is so fucking amazing.

And I am so worried about the end.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 7 of 10 - I love the kinkyness of our baby boy’s fantasy. Where he is the gift and his boyfriend is in uniform. Very nice. Thank you Japan. Never one to let kinky dogs lie. Also, the premise continues: one half thinks that they are already boyfriends and acts like it, and the other half is still trying to become a boyfriend. It’s absurd in that way that only Japanese miscommunication extraordinaire can be absurd. Also could Kyosuke be any more under his boy’s thumb? 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 1-2 of 10 eps - Shiba is a top lawyer, angular aggressive bespectacled workaholic cat-type (Kitten? Babygirl? Tsundere? Some unholy combination of all 3?) I am reminded I should be more considerate of my potted plants. OMG the teasing and the little tongue sticking out. Haruto is such a flirt. I love this dynamic. What fun! Manic pixie dream boy but MAKE HIM EVIL! Or very high? Or a grifter? I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. But I’m enjoying it. It’s very...... very

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Oh! Good kiss. Smart to have the younger character initiate. I also like that he put a stop to it and then went and had a long conversation with a friend about it. Cautious boy. Also shows how in control of the situation Sea is becoming. It works for this BL since he has the stronger personality. I don't care what the characters say, this is about Sea becoming a rock for Neil.

But the secondary couple is actually winning this show. I want so much more of them. 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 8fin - I’m not sure that blackmailing and entrapment, especially of your ex, necessarily justifies cheating. Plus I never like it when it’s gays against gays. But what did I expect from this show? This whole series was basically Korea’s version of messy gay. If you liked Only Friends you’ll probably enjoy this bullshit. And they were quite pretty. I, however, am monumentally displeased. 4/10 FATALLY FLAWED but still, basically, BL, however…... do we want to support this kind of behavior?

KOREA PLEASE GIVE US A NEW PROPER BL!! WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE SAD AND LOST WITHOUT YOU.

It's like now they discovered boys can kiss they can't be happy.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. DNF 

In case you missed it

I FINISHED Meet You at the Blossom (China). I ate crow, binged the fucker, and live blogged the experience. I enjoyed it a lot and got quite witty (I think) there are also puns (warning). But if you don't wanna slog though it, here are my final thoughts:

This was undeniably a wuxia and most definitely a BL. Evil stunning princely Cheekbones meets and falls in love with the bisexual disaster Dimples of his dreams. There’s a lot of floaty fighting, tangled plot, and overworked emotions. From start to finish it is exactly as it claims to be, including more than the expected amount of sexual claiming (dubious conscent to the point of rape). I’m not wild about the wuxia genre, but I will tell you what I do like: Very pretty men in flowing robes + eye makeup + hair ribbons wafting about stabbing and kissing each other plus ridiculous soap opera machinations. I also like cheekbones and dimples. AND I love a stupid gay sleeve, okay? There was also truly epic levels of stink-eye, and that too is to be lauded. This show left me grinning like crazy. Was it great? Not really, but it was a great experience and I enjoyed it immensely. 8/10

4 Minutes (Gaga) Ended - Spies reported in to say the ending was not-exactly-unhappy and mostly lackluster. I'm torn over whether to watch. My natural disinclination to binge, meets my dissatisfaction with wishy-washy, is going up against my love of high heat and pretty men. Oh the age old struggle between art and lust.

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke finished and it’s reported to be solid. Age gap treated with respect. I'm curious, so I'll check it out if I can get hold of non-G-drive subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Sept 2024:

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I love love love this execution of the punishment trope. What's Ai going to do to you, Yu? Ride you to death?

I Saw You in My Dream indeed.

Sigh. This show. (Addicted Heroin)

All praise one of BL's best-in-show glow-ups. Nicely done, Jack.

James, on the other hand. Never needs a glow-up. Still the prettiest. Has been since Oxygen. (Battle of the Writers)

He's playing the role of Saint in this show, thank you very much. Speaking of which, wouldn’t that be just the most gorgeous pairing in the entire universe? Saint and James? I’ll be in my bunk. 

Taiwan giving us a boop! Reminds me of Be Loved In House I Do, right up there with TharnType as chronic boopers.

Why is he SO GOOD in this show?

All Frist Note.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.