#You know‚ if all you have to defend yourself with are computer peripherals

[jbhemlock]

This is one of the reasons I still type on a 30+ year old ibm model m keyboard.

Today's aesthetic is cassette futurism

[sweetestlamb]

Three Strikes

Summary: Young-woo has caught the eye of high school baseball star Lee Jun-ho.

Author's note: Not me writing a whale couple au about a sport that I know absolutely nothing about! 😂😂😂 everyone let's take a minute to laugh together. Please just ignore anything dumb I said about baseball that isn't accurate and focus on high school Wooho featuring oblivious insecure bb Young-woo and flirty and direct Jun-ho who knows exactly what he wants. (hint: it's the same backwards and flipped)

"Young-woo, wait up!"

She hears his familiar deep voice over her shoulder as she walks quickly down the hallway, avoiding eye contact with her classmates- some of who are usually her tormentors except when Geurami was around swinging chairs left and right. And when he's around, nobody dares to bother her when Jun-ho is beside her.

His fists were as powerful as his smile.

She had gotten lost on the first day of school despite the school secretary's very clear directions, fears of being bullied making her body stiffen in anticipation. Her heart had been pounding nervously in her chest and then he was there, his handsome boyish face filling her vision as he slightly bent down to meet her eyes.

For a moment she allowed it before swiftly looking away.

"Are you lost?"

Her eyes darted over the rest of his body that she could see. He was much taller than her, with long legs and broad shoulders. The school name was printed across his chest but unlike the rest of the students in the hallway he wore a white and red uniform. The baseball bat in his hand made it obvious why.

"Hello?"

She jumped lightly as he stepped closer, realizing she hadn't responded to him. Lost in her thoughts.

"Yes. It's my first day. I just transferred here."

She could hear his soft sound of understanding, she even managed to see a sliver of his smile in her peripheral.

"What class are you in?"

And just like that he became an almost permanent shadow in her school life. It was strange to have someone to walk home with, eat lunch with and defend her against bullies who thought it was funny to mock the autistic girl. He never stood for any of it.

"Do you think you're cool picking on others? You should be ashamed of yourself, you're all pathetic!"

All of it made her heart flustered and confused, and she couldn't figure out why.

Shaking herself back to reality, she slowed her steps allowing him to catch up with her although his long legs made that easy enough already.

She gasped as the weight on her back suddenly disappeared, turning to look at him in shock as her backpack now dangled off his arm.

"You look different."

He immediately noticed after only glancing at her face for a few seconds. She nibbled on her bottom lip trying not to blush or ask him what he thought.

"Geurami put some lipstick on for me. She said it would make me look prettier."

Not that she wanted that. At least that's what she told herself as his eyes continued to analyze her face. His eyes lingered on her lips for a moment before looking away, the muscle in his jaw tightening.

"You don't need makeup for that." He finally answered under his breath, walking ahead of her and she stood in silence not quite computing his reply.

"What?" She called to his back but he ignored her, easily walking to her homeroom as he did everyday.

Only then did he hand her bag back to her, she took it and turned to enter her classroom, smiling as soon as Geurami started waving at her- purple streaks in her hair today.

"I have practice after school today." She paused turning to Jun-ho as he spoke, she nodded in understanding knowing that she would have to walk home alone, Geurami got detention almost everyday after all.

"Okay. I'll go home without you." She tried to convince herself that the feeling in the pit of her stomach was just discomfort because this was breaking her routine and not something else.

She started to walk away again.

But with a few quick steps he was blocking her route, so close she almost walked right into his chest. She instinctively put her hands up to prevent the collision. This time she couldn't stop herself from glancing up at him, eyes wide in her surprise.

He answered her silent question instantly.

"No, I don't want that. I still want to walk you home, why don't you come watch my practice? It'll only be thirty minutes today, coach wants us to get extra practice this week for the big game next week."

Everyone knew about the first game of the season, there were posters and banners all over the school. It was all anyone could talk about, she'd heard her female classmates all giggling about seeing him in action. Even now his arms were distractedly beautiful, sinew and muscle coiling under the skin.

"They just need me to pitch a little bit. I promise it won't be long."

She thought about it. Running the idea over in her mind. Usually when she got home she took off her uniform, showered for exactly twenty-five minutes, ate sliced apples, then started her homework, read her sea life encyclopedia, ate dinner with her father before putting on her pajamas and going to bed. Going to his practice would disturb that meticulously timed routine.

She fidgeted with her fingers as she considered his offer.

"Please, I'll buy you that gimbap you like from that place on the corner." His eyes were like melted chocolate as he pleaded with and she could start to hear her classmates whispering about their interaction. The same question she was used to hearing and sometimes thought herself: why was he hanging out with her?

She responded quickly, desperately needing not to be the center of attention any longer.

"Okay. I'll come to your practice."

He grinned widely in response, eyes locked on her own as he stepped even closer his words low enough for only her ears.

"Great. I'll see you later."

And then he was gone and the voices of her classmate only became louder. She itched to take out her headphones, only marginally resisting the urge.

"You sly dog you!" Geurami greeted her with a hard slap on the back, she yelped while shifting away from her touch. The girl was too strong for her own good.

"What? Sly dog?" She repeated completely lost.

"That! All of that!" The other girl pointed to the spot she previously occupied with Lee Jun-ho. But that didn't make things any clearer to her so she just pursed her lips in consideration.

"Aren't you supposed to be a genius? He just asked you to come see him practice. You know what that means right?"

She didn't see what her being a genius had to do with this at all.

"It means he wants to walk home together to maintain our routine although it will alter my personal routine at ho--"

"No! Be quiet, what are you even talking about? Do you know who the baseball boys usually invite to their practices?"

She scanned the knowledge in her brain, analyzing all the information she had about baseball- home runs, innings, curve balls, words flashed in her mind but nothing about practice etiquette.

"No. Who do they usually invite?"

Her friend huddled in close, mischievous grin on her face as she whispered loudly, "Girls they like. It's just an excuse to show off for their crushes."

She blinked at the admission. She had never known that, and if that were the case then why would he invite her?

"So why did he invite me?" She poses the question to her closest friend, and honestly only friend besides the very boy they are whispering about.

Instead of answering though Geurami suddenly starts tugging harshly at her hair while screaming and throwing her body around violently.

The teacher enters the room at that moment, utterly unaffected by her friends antics ignoring her outburst to greet them all as the bell rings announcing the start of the school day.

So she pushes their discussion to the back of her mind, ready to accept new knowledge today. She loves school and learning, despite her classmates trying their best to ruin it for her.

Her head hurts when it all comes rushing back to her at lunch, she sits at their usual table unwrapping her foil and arranging her rolls until they are neat and symmetrical. He plops down in front of her a mere minute later, back in his school uniform now. She only steals one glance at his arms, his shirt cuffs rolled up and putting them perfectly on display.

He clears his throat though breaking her from her reprieve and when she looks up she sees a special glint in his eyes and a peculiar smile on his lips.

"My eyes are up here."

She feels her face heating up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. It was rude of her and she immediately begins to apologize, "I'm sorry."

But he shakes his head, smirking at her.

"Don't apologize. You're not the only one who can't help staring."

He's always making comments like that. Comments that make her heart race a little too fast.

Then he smiles innocently and starts digging into the provided school lunch, eagerly eating all his pickled radishes.

She feels his eyes on her periodically, knows that he's waiting for her to start talking about whales on an endless stream but for once she finds herself unable to focus long enough to spew out the information. Other stimulus are overwhelming her thoughts.

"You're quiet today."

She nods, "I have some things on my mind."

He looks at her for a long drawn out moment before nodding too.

"Okay."

And then they eat in silence until she's down to her last piece of gimbap.

She takes a bite, chewing slowly before swallowing and then he disturbs the quiet surrounding them.

"Can I have some?"

She pauses looking at the half bitten roll, then moves her eyes to his face. He grins back at her.

"What?" She says perplexed even going as far as looking down to see if there was more gimbap that she missed but there is none, only the one between her chopsticks.

"I don't have anymore. This is the last one."

He nods in agreement, motioning to the last gimbap.

"I know. Give me some of that one."

She looks between him and the roll, confused and slightly scandalized.

"But I already bit it. You can't eat the one I already started eating."

She doesn't need her flash cards to comprehend the amusement on his face. He chuckles when he replies, "Why not?"

She blinks, "It's unhygienic. To share things you've put in your mouth.

He considers her words, looking around and rubbing at his neck before completely taking her off guard with his next question.

"Have you ever been kissed before?"

She almost drops her gimbap, blood rushing to her cheeks as she feels her eyes widening and her heart shifting into overdrive.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"What?"

He just smiles though, not repeating his question because they both know that she heard him, her reaction is proof enough.

"Why is that important? How are those things related?"

"I was curious, if only food is unhygienic or all things from someone else's mouth?"

This time curiosity trumps her embarrassment.

"What goes in someone's mouth when they're kissing?"

His gaze seems to get sharper, darker, a little more pointed, heated. She can physically feel it on her skin.

"Sometimes a tongue. Maybe some saliva."

She cringes at the thought of someone else's spit in her mouth, chills running down her spine.

"I don't think I would like that."

He reaches across the table, his fingers hovering next to her arms but never touching. She twitches from the heat he emits.

"Not even with the right person?" His eyes bore into her own as if he's not talking about something hypothetical any longer. He groans at her prolonged silence, those fingers slowly retreating.

"That's disappointing." He breathes out, voice husky and she feels her chest constricting.

When the lunch bell rings, she stands up suddenly too many feelings swarming inside her to stay still and with a quickly mumbled goodbye she bolts from the cafeteria too terrified to look back.

She misses his shocked laughter and him reaching across the lunch table to pick up her forgotten half bitten gimbap, popping it in his mouth with a hum of satisfaction before standing to throw out both of their trash.

She avoids him after that. Spinning around frantically each time she hears his boisterous voice in the hallway, he's hard to miss.

"You're so obvious. Why avoid him now? You guys have been not dating for months now. Did you just realize?"

No. They were not dating. She knew what dating was, had seen her classmates and characters on dramas. Her and Jun-ho didn't do those..... things. They had never even held hands or hugged. They were just friends and he just said strange things sometimes, that was all. She didn't mind, whales were strange too sometimes but she still loved them.

"No, we're not. He's only my friend."

Geurami rolled her eyes but continued to drag her to the bathroom.

"So why are you running and hiding from your friend?" She stressed the word out pulling the d until it sounded silly.

That she couldn't answer. Yet. She was still figuring that out.

"No answer huh? Well anyway I'm here to help you get ready for your first time at your not boyfriend's baseball practice."

"He's not my boyfriend."

Her friend smile cheekily, "That's exactly what I said."

She couldn't argue because technically she was telling the truth but it was clear that Geurami's 'not' had a different definition from her own despite them being the same word.

"Why do I have to get ready for a practice? I'm not the one practicing."

"But it's your first time at his practice. You have to look cute and supportive, like a good not girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend."

"Same thing I said."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

It was pointless arguing with the other girl so she closed her eyes as she demanded and felt light strokes on her lids, the urge to move away was high but she fought it happy when she moved on to her cheeks instead, safer territory.

"There all done."

She turned to face herself, she looked different but the same. Her eyelids were barely decorated with a soft smoky red eyeshadow with little star stickers on the edge. But what caught her eye were her cheeks.

LJH

#10

She rubbed at her face but it didn't budge.

"I used waterproof eye liner so it'll stay even if it rains. You look so cute, he's going to love it." Geurami squealed at her handy work but she felt no such excitement, only nerves settling in her stomach.

"I don't think I should-"

"Shhhhh. You're just friends right? This is nothing for friends. Come on, practice is going to start soon and you need to get a good seat in the front."

With that declaration she was dragged from the bathroom, her friends strong grip easily pulling her despite her attempts to escape or argue.

"Hush now, he's waiting for you. You shouldn't keep him waiting too long."

She flailed but to no avail, her struggles were futile.

There were a lot of people sitting on the bleachers.

She stood frozen in the spot her friend had dumped her in before leaving with a quick, "See ya later! I have detention again."

There were girls wrapped up in huge jackets that were clearly not their own, their significant others name and number branding their backs. She watched them giggle and point, waving and blowing kisses when they spotted their boyfriend.

She felt completely out of place.

Then as if clockwork some of them started to notice her arrival and the whispers started.

"What's she doing here?"

"Oh my god, what's that on her face?"

"Is she serious? She really thinks she has a chance with oppa?"

She instinctively covered her cheeks, realizing she was the only one who had done this. She couldn't help feeling like an idiot, an outsider. Hot shame filled tears started to pool in her eyes.

"What are you doing just standing there? Aren't you here to watch the practice? Don't worry about them they're just jealous that you're the first girl that Jun-ho's invited to watch him play." Someone said loud enough to be heard. All the whispering stops immediately as the other girls turn away in shame and anger.

She turns to look at the new voice and sees the pretty face of the school's goddess, Choi Suyeon. Gratitude washes over her like a wave, even more so when the other girl pats the metal seat next to her wordlessly inviting Young-woo to join her.

She ambles over, thankful for the act of kindness.

"Thank you." She whispers and the other girl grins in reply nodding back before her eyes are drawn to the tall figure of Myeong Seok, pushing the bridge of his glasses further up his aquiline nose.

She on the other hand tries not to look for Jun-ho. Instead staring at her feet.

How would she walk home with him with his initials on her face?

Jun-ho's arrivals is greeted with squeals and shouts of his name, and without thinking her eyes drift up and like magnets his gaze instantly meets her own. She watches a look of bewilderment form before a blinding smile eclipses it, accompanied by his joyful laughter.

He points to his own cheeks while looking at her and gives a thumbs up.

She blushes covering her face and looking away, she can feel too many eyes on her due to his attention.

"I think he likes it." Suyeon whispers to her and she pretends not to hear.

He's amazing. She has heard classmates talking about his magical hands before, the power and skill of his pitches but it's something else to see it in person with her own eyes.

He oozes confidence on the mound. Winding his arm back each time, all the muscles in his body working in harmony before the ball cuts through the air across the field and straight into the waiting gloves of the catcher almost every time. His teammates seem both impressed and infinitely annoyed with him.

One of them shouts out after his third strike, "It's just practice! You don't need to go all out, who are you trying to impress huh?"

This sends the rest of his teammates into a fit of laughter and she watches his ears turn bright red at their teasing, but he doesn't deny the accusation.

He tones it down after that but not by much.

She watches mesmerized as he tugs off his hat and wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his forearm.

"You should see your face right now. I didn't you were that type of girl Young-woo."

She jumps only now remembering that she wasn't alone.

She blinks at Suyeon's teasing smile.

"There's only a few more minutes left. He'll be all yours soon."

"What... What do you mean? What's wrong with my face?"

Suyeon chuckles girlishly before giving her an answer, "You look starved."

"But I'm not hungry at all."

"Hmmm are you sure? There are different kinds of hunger after all." The other girl winks at her before standing and leaving her spot, walking over to the only person who has had her attention the entire practice, who looks completely flabbergasted to be approached by the school's goddess.

She's lost in her thoughts again when she hears loud steps on the metal of the bleacher.

"I hope it wasn't too loud or boring."

He looked even sweatier up close, the uniform clinging to his body even further. She struggled to swallow and reply.

"I thought about wearing my headphones. But I didn't want to stand out even more here."

Instantly his face became stormy at her words, "Did anyone bother you? Who was it?"

"It's fine. I'm used to it. It's because I'm strange to them."

She watched that muscle in his jaw clench hard.

"That's not an excuse for anyone to harass you. If anyone says anything next time, tell me immediately."

She knows that he means that and history has proven that he will do something about it.

"Okay."

But then she processed the rest of his words.

Next time.

Would there be a next time? Wasn't this just so they could go home together, why would she come here again?

"You're a good pitcher." She says the first time that comes to her mind, changing the subject so she can have time to further think about his words later.

He preens at her words seemingly taking them as praise instead of an objective observation, she supposes it can be both.

"Glad I impressed you."

"Who are you trying to impress huh?" The memory replays in her mind like a video but before she can say anything he's leaning back and asking her a different question.

"Do you want to try?"

She racks her brain trying to figure out what he's offering her to try, but nothing comes to mind.

"What?"

"Do you want to try pitching?"

"No. I don't think I've ever had that desire before in my life."

He chuckles at her immediate response, walking backwards down the bleachers without falling somehow.

"Humor me." He beckons her to follow him and she can't stop her feet from obeying.

It's not until she's on the field with him that she realizes that they're the only ones there now and she doesn't even remember all her classmates leaving. She seems to constantly have that issue around him. It was quite the conundrum.

"Come here."

She hesitates but he keeps waving her over so finally she goes, heart racing prematurely.

"You need to find a comfortable position to hold the ball and then just throw, make sure to extend your arm and visualize where you want the ball to go."

She sucks up his directions like a sponge, taking the ball from his grasp and obeying his instructions to the best of her abilities. Unfortunately the ball doesn't go that far, landing a few feet from her.

She expects to hear his laughter but it never comes.

"That wasn't bad but you need more power. You didn't extend your arm enough. Can I?"

She turns to look at him and realizes he's moved behind her now, his body almost completely dwarfing her own. She has to look up at him over her shoulder.

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

She stills at the blunt question, feeling his hands hovering near her again without touching.

He waits for as long as it takes her. Silent as she turns his words over in her head.

"Yes. It's okay."

Shockingly enough, it really feels okay. The thought of him touching her doesn't make her uncomfortable, at least not in a bad way.

"Just not my hands. I don't like anyone touching my hands."

He nods firmly at her clarification, gently holding the bend of her elbow with one hand and and her waist with the other.

"It helps if you twist your waist and extend your arm fully like this, it'll lengthen the trajectory of the ball. Here try again."

But this time, he moves with her pulling her waist back and pushing her arm forward and she watches as the ball sails through the air, going much further that time with his assistance. Her body tingles everywhere he's touching her and she can't keep it in any longer, she's too confused.

Her back is so warm absorbing all the heat that he's expelling and it makes her hot all over. She can feel his chest constricting and expanding behind her and their closeness finally dissolves her logic forcing her to check the validity of the thoughts swimming in her head.

"Is it true that your team invites girls they like to watch them practice?"

Because they're so close she can feel him stiffen behind her, the hand on her elbow falling away. Which only forces her to focus on the hand that remains on her hip, loose but still present.

"Yes. It's true."

She processes that.

"Did you invite me here to impress me?"

"I think you already know the answer to that. I think you know the answer to very question up there in that amazing brain."

Pushing down her nerves she turns in his hold, putting them face to face and he looks taken back by her bold move.

"You like me."

He closes his eyes at her statement, nodding with a gentle smile on his face.

"Since I first saw you. Do you have any idea how pretty you look when you're lost? I had no chance from the beginning."

"But I'm autistic. It's not easy to date me."

There will always be people staring and judging, shocked that they're together and telling him that he deserves better. She wasn't sure that they were wrong.

"What do you mean? It's been fine so far. I always have fun with you even if you're just talking about whales."

"Do you....have we been dating? Is that way you walk me home, carry my things, have lunch with me, call me pretty and buy me gimbap?"

He shrugs at her, like it's obvious. Maybe it was but she just couldn't see it.

"Well, yes. I do all those things because I like you and want to be around you. I call you pretty because you are though, even your fingers are pretty."

She glances down at the digits, wiggling them trying to see their beauty.

"I thought when people were dating they did other things though. We only do things that friends do."

His brows shifted higher at her proclamation before he responds, "Oh? Do you have other friends who do what I do with you too?"

His voice sounded tighter, as if he was squeezing out the words. She could only blink at him no idea why he seemed to be in pain.

"No. You're the only one." She answers honestly.

Then like magic all the tension left his body.

"Good. Good." Then he was grinning again, stepping closer.

"What things should we be doing if we're dating? Is there something you want to do with me?"

"Kissing. Couples usually kiss and hug. We've never done that before." She says automatically.

Without warning he reaches up to cup her cheek, brushing against his own initial written on her face she squirms lightly at the touch but doesn't move away.

"Do you want that? To kiss me?"

She gulps at the look on his eyes, taking a step back to catch her breath but he follows her pulling her closer with the hand on her waist.

"I....I....don't know."

It feels like she's going to float away from all the butterflies fluttering around like crazy in her stomach, she can barely maintain eye contact staring at his lips before she realizes what she's doing and forces her gaze away.

"It's okay. We can figure that out together. I'll ask a different question. Do you like me too?"

Her gaze snaps back to him but he doesn't look confident this time, she can see a softness in his gaze.

Vulnerable.

He looks vulnerable waiting for her response.

It doesn't take long to search her heart for the answer, the one that's been staring her right in the face while she's been looking everywhere else.

"Yes. I like you too."

It's almost as if he's a puppet that's been released from his strings the way he collapses in front of her.

"Then, will you be my girlfriend?"

She stares at him, thinking back to her earlier conversation with Geurami and how adamant she was. She was the only one who was confused it seems.

"Yes. I will."

He smiles brightly, pulling her closer until their foreheads met in a gentle touch his breath fanning over her face as he stares at her.

"You're staring."

"Is that a problem? I don't mind when you stare at my arms."

She pulls away, walking away from him as a blush covers her face.

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm your boyfriend you can stare all you want. You can even do more than stare if you want."

She scrubs at her cheeks forcing the blush away.

"You promised me gimbap. Your practice is over we should go."

His laughter is musical behind her as he runs to catch up with her.

"I really liked seeing my initials on you. You should come to every practice and game like this." He pokes at her cheek, that dark look clouding his eyes again.

She walks faster calling over her shoulder, "I want two orders of gimbap." She ignores him and his teasing.

"Can I call you babe?" He ignores her right back.

She does get her two orders of gimbap and only flushes a little when he places it on the table in front of her with a soft, "Here you go babe" with the most satisfied grin she's ever seen on a face.

[jimlingss]

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You've always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it's been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

The more he ran, the deeper you fell.   You couldn’t help it. Not when the breeze was whisking through his dark strands, sweat was rolling down his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration.    To some, it looked like Jimin was just playing soccer — a mischievous boy kicking a ball in the grassy field. But to you, it was much more than that. He was magic. Leaping through the air. Irises glistening each time the coach hollers and he smiles. The corner of his mouth tugged as his team members jump on his back.    Jimin is the one who manifests the butterflies in your stomach. And that’s magical enough for you.   “You’re drooling.”   Jihyo is startling when she throws her arm over your shoulders and pulls you away, shattering your trance. She giggles as you scoff, finally tearing your eyes from the boy across the field.    “No, I’m not.”    In spite of your denial, you check if you are indeed drooling and your hand wipes at the corner of your mouth.   “You have it so bad for him, Y/N,” your best friend laughs loudly as you shush her. “Relax. No one’s gonna hear. The whole neighbourhood’s gonna find out anyway if you keep staring at him like that.”   “I am not staring.”   “Uh-huh.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Are you actually going to talk to him or keep looking and making it obvious.”   “What would I even talk to him about, Jihyo?”   “I don’t know. You’ve been crushing on him since what? Eighth grade? Shouldn’t you know what he likes by now? What do nerds like?”   “Jimin is not a nerd,” you defend futility and end up sighing a moment later. Jihyo has a point. But whenever it comes time to strike a conversation, your brain empties and all you can think about is how he’s actually paying attention to you. The problem isn’t that you don’t know what to say, you just don’t know how to say it. “I always end up getting too nervous and make myself look stupid.”   “Need my help?”   “No.”   You glare as she grins. You know Jihyo’s definition of help is screaming his name for the entire school to hear. The whole soccer team would turn their heads as she’d wave and point to you. She did that once and you were beyond mortified. Thankfully, Jimin was considerate enough to smile and wave back.   The two of you begin turning and walking away before you’re late for library duty. “I’m just saying, there’s only four months left before we’re graduating for good. What’s there left to lose?”   “My dignity.”   “I thought you didn’t have any.”   You throw a weak punch, but Jihyo dodges out of the way and laughs.   You know your best friend is merely trying to help. It’s not like you like being this hopeless anyway. But you’re aware that even if Jimin spares a moment for you sometimes, you’re nowhere near his league.   As you pass by the bleachers, your peripheral vision catches Jimin looking your way.   Immediately, you turn your head — heart stuttering. But then you realize he’s looking at Seulgi.    The girl is standing at the front bleachers, sweater tucked into her skirt, cheering him on and waving. And he waves back with an even bigger grin.   Jihyo doesn’t miss the interaction. You feel her hand on your arm, guiding you away quicker.   “I heard Jimin and Seulgi have been getting close.”   “Really? I haven’t.”   Jihyo’s lying. The rumours are running rampant that he’s interested in her. You were hoping it wasn’t true, but of course he would. She’s popular and cute, and even dances. You can’t do any of those things. You can’t be those things—   “Y/N?”   “Sorry?” You blink hard, attention taken by the youthful librarian behind the desk smiling gently.   “Are you alright, dear? Do you need to go home early?”   “No.” You shake your head, feeling the weight of Jihyo’s gaze as well. “I was just thinking about something else. I’m sorry.”   “It’s quite alright. I was saying how all the books have thankfully been shelved and all the things I needed to be cataloged into the computer system is done. Of course, it’s thanks to you two ladies helping me out recently.”   The pair of you respond that it’s not a problem and she smiles before guiding you towards the back and flicking on the lights of the dusty room.   “I was thinking we could tackle cleaning out the storage area today before we close up for the end of the year. It hasn’t been touched since the previous librarian.” She sighs. “I’ve been meaning to get it done but we’ve just been so busy.”   Bookshelves on all sides and a table in the center, there are books without covers and ripped pages coating the surfaces. But it’s still not as terrible as that time you had to reorganize the entire science fiction section. That task alone took two weeks.   Jihyo seems to agree. “It’s actually not that bad.”   “We can probably finish it in a day or two,” you add.   “You girls are more helpful than you’ll ever know.” The older lady breathes a big sigh of relief. “I was thinking we could inspect all of these and sort them into books that can still be used, donated or thrown out. I’ll run and grab you boxes so you can organize them. Oh and if there’s anything you’d like to take home, feel free to! Take it as a perk of volunteering to help out.”   She smiles and you and Jihyo nod before getting to work.   “Look at what I found.” Your best friend holds up a bright coloured book five minutes into it and you burst out laughing. The novel reads ‘You’ve Got A Dog in Me’ and aside from the ridiculous title, it’s completely tattered with a brown stain in the middle. “It looks like it’s some romance comedy. Whatever.”   She chucks it in the garbage can and you notice an old guide on how to spank children from the fifties. It raises your brows and you throw it in the trash too.   There’s a ton of books to go through, but you have fun looking at some of the ridiculous titles or synopsis with Jihyo. Some of them are able to be donated while others are in a good enough condition to be kept after the layers of dust are blown off. It’s clear that no one’s touched this storage area for years.   The room is crowded, so with Jihyo at the front, you venture to the very back bookcase. You dodge stacks and bins, and squat down to the last shelf. Almost instantly, your attention is taken by shiny green spines that seemingly shimmer even in the dim lights. The books are large and heavy duty, requiring two hands to be pulled out with how tightly they’re stuffed into the shelf.   But you manage.   The first book reads ‘The Magical World Explored’. The second is ‘Dark Magic: Beginner Spellbook’ and the third, ‘17th Century Witchcraft History’. Latin and other symbols surround the titles and two of them are with small locks, the other without. Yet you can’t seem to open it no matter how hard you pull.    What’s even stranger is that the textbooks are immaculate. It looks like they’ve been untouched.   “What is it?”    Jihyo asks at your ongoing silence and approaches with the same curiosity that twists to befuddlement you have. “Looks like something edgy you’d pick up on ebay for that witch aesthetic.”   You burst out laughing. “I can’t even open this one. It’s like the pages are...glued together.”   “Maybe they’re cursed,” she says jokingly and your next laugh is a bit more uncomfortable than the last. At the same time, the librarian pokes her head through the door, asking how everything’s going. You take the opportunity to ask her about the odd books.   “Hmm, this is strange,” she muses, tapping her chin. “It looks like it’s from the previous librarian who worked at this school. I only met her a few times but she told me she was from a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where these probably came from. Anyway, she already passed away so I can’t give them back. If anything, just trash them.”   “Okay.”    You set them into the garbage can before continuing without thinking twice until there’s an interruption.   “Excuse me?”   There’s a familiar gawky boy with rounded glasses at the front desk. With the librarian busy on the other side of the library, you grab your best friend and quirk your head towards him. “Jihyo! Jihyo! It’s Namjoon!”   “What?!”   “Go help him!”   Her face flushes pink. “No! Why don’t you?!”   “Because!” You grin. “Didn’t you say that we have nothing to lose since we’re graduating?”   “Don’t you know I’m all talk and no action?” Her last syllable is a squeal when you nudge her forward and out the side door where she stumbles into his line of sight. Jihyo throws a glare over her shoulder before she clears her throat. “Is there something you need? Or are you here to bother me again?”   Namjoon smiles. “Both.”   You watch the cute interaction for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy. Humming to yourself, you resume inspecting and sorting the books, turning to the back shelf again. And as you clear it out, you grab a stack of novels at the top shelf.   Inadvertently, something topples on top of your head.   Luckily, it’s thin. Not painful whatsoever. Merely flopping to the carpet—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    It draws you in. Bewitched. Unblinking. Unbreathing.   A mysterious magnetism has you spellbound, curiosity coming within waves.   So you reach down to grab it, fingertips grasping the very edges of the few pages.   You flip it over to the back and your eyes skim the white text on the blushing cover:

The human whose name is written first shall fall in love with the human whose name is written second.

The Pages can only take effect if the writer has the person’s face in mind.

The only way the Pages’ powers can be removed is through erasing the names.

A name cannot be written first more than once at a time. 

Warning: The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Pages shall be. The less compatible a couple is, the more likely undesired consequences shall arise. Utilize with caution.   You’re confused.    You wonder what kind of prank this is. Whoever did it had a really detailed and elaborate yet creative plan to fool someone. But you wonder if they accidentally left this notebook here.    You’re not sure if the notebook should go straight into the garbage, so you toss it on the table and continue cleaning.   It’s not long before you come across a crime novel you’re actually interested in and place it aside to remember to take home. And it’s not long before Jihyo’s coming back in with her backpack.   “Hey, our shift’s over. She said we can finish tomorrow. Wanna go grab fries on the way home?”   “Sure.” You grin. “How’d your talk with Namjoon go?”   Jihyo smiles, the usual assertive girl grown shy under the topic. “How do you think it went?”   You grab the novel and shove it into your bag haphazardly without looking. You don’t realize a certain soft pink notebook underneath that you’ve taken as well.   //   It’s evening by the time you get home. Tired and grimy from the long day, you beeline straight up the stairs to your room as your mother’s voice chirps from the kitchen.   “Have you had dinner yet?!”   “I already ate with Jihyo!” you call back before shutting your bedroom door.    You swing your backpack off your shoulders as you collapse into your chair. Your desk is cluttered with loose leaves of your bored scribbles, college pamphlets and school forms you never read. The attempt to make your room pretty and aesthetic failed years ago with your messy tendencies, but what catches your eye as you look around is the candle of Bundled Roses Jihyo gave you for your birthday.   Golden lid and shell pink container, you reach out and uncap it to dig the wax into your nose. Even after burning half of the candle already, it still smells good.   You smile to yourself, placing the candle back in its spot next to the lighter.   The desk lamp is switched on and you reach for your backpack to dump out your homework. In a few months, you’ll be freed from ever having to sit down and be forced to do quadratic equations again. Graduation was definitely something to look forward to.   But as you spill the contents of your bag out, the crime novel and a certain pink notebook comes tumbling out.   “Shit.”   The Love Pages stares back at you.   It’s tiny print letters on the cover are simple yet annoying. You didn’t mean to take it with you, but that mistake’s gonna cost you a walk all the way to the library tomorrow. Or you could simply dump it in the trash bin now. Dust your hands off. Call it a day.   But for some reason, you don’t.   You don’t turn to stuff it back into your bag.   You don’t shift to drop it in the trash.   Perhaps it’s on a whim, riding the wave of procrastination, preferring to delay homework for just another moment—   You flip it open.   Min Yoongi            Kim Seokjin   Amane Miki        Jeon Jungkook   Kim Taehyung      Ellie Windsor   It’s funny. In a strange sort of way. There’s an endless list of names spanning across the pages, each line consisting of exactly two but the writing is starkly different. For some of them, it’s clear that they were written by the same person. Straight lines, small letters, the occasional loops.    Yet for others, it’s chicken scratch writing or scribbles, hearts drawn on the side, thin lead to thicker ones. It looks like the notebook’s been passed to lots of people in spite of its immaculate exterior.    As you flip, you find faded names barely legible as if they’ve been erased. More importantly, there’s more than ten pages that have yet to be written in.   For how silly and complex this prank is, maybe it’s a good luck charm.    Maybe these couples actually got together and this notebook somehow fell into your lap as a sign of fate. Maybe. It’s ridiculous. But would it hurt to try? It’s not like anyone would know. Plus, you’ve doodled your name as ‘Park Y/N’ more times than you could count. Secretly, of course.   Compelled and childish, you reach for the pencil on your desk.   You flip to the next clean new page and recall the rules of the Pages.   And you call to mind kind smiles, half moon eyes and a sweet voice. Your pencil loops his name onto the paper.   Park Jimin              L/N Y/N   It’s done. Your breath hitches.   You blink once. Then twice.    But — nothing happens.   “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”    You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s not like Jimin’s going to fall in love with you simply because you wrote his name down in some stupid book. That’s not how love works.   You shut the Love Pages and shove it away before cracking open your algebra textbook with a tired groan.    //   It’s early morning when you’re trudging along the path to school, rubbing your swollen eyes that you’re sure Jihyo will make fun of you for. But it’s not your fault that you ended up scrolling through your phone instead of tackling the chem assignment and forgetting that it was due today until you were laying in be—   “Y/N?”   It’s an unfamiliar-familiar voice.    Unfamiliar in the ways that you’re still not used to it. That you haven’t heard it directed to you enough times. But familiar in the ways that you’ve always listened to it. That your ears always perked when you passed by him in the halls, trying to pick up on the sweet syllables that rolled off his tongue. You’ve always hung off every sentence that he had to say.   Holy fuck.   Park Jimin is looking at you.   “Y/N?”   And he’s smiling, tilting his head, eyes tender. He’s so close and if your mind could actually function, you would realize that he’s just standing there by the school entrance as if he was waiting for you.   “Are you alright?”   “Y-Yeah.” The word chokes out of you and you try to shake off your nervousness. You muster a smile as your heart begins to pound into your ears. “S-Sorry.”   “Good morning,” Jimin tweedles with a growing grin.   “Morning.”   You start walking alongside him. “How’re you?”   “Good. You?”   “I’m good too.” Jimin’s eyes are crinkled and he steals a glance at you at the same time you do. It’s a moment that has your heart stuttering in your chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”   You’re caught off guard, unable to believe this is happening. But his presence is more than welcome. In fact, Jimin doesn’t know that he’s already making your day.   “Y-Yeah, it has been. How’s….soccer practice been?”   “Really great actually. We have one more game left. We’re versing West Side this time.”   “It’s the final match of the season?”   “Yup! We’re all pretty excited. Everyone wants to win but even if we don’t, then we come in second place in the entire school district.”   Your steps slow as you get to the front doors, still wanting to savour each second and luckily, he slows as well. Neither of you are eager to move on. “That’s incredible, Jimin.”   “Y/N!” Right as the conversation is simmering down, Jihyo disrupts any awkwardness that might settle. She appears out of nowhere and swings her arm over your shoulder. Your best friend gives you a knowing look and then to Jimin. “Hey there, Park.”   “Hey.” He smiles politely, then redirects his gaze to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”   “Y-Yeah. Totally. See you.” You wave, still struck and baffled by the interaction.   Jihyo seems equally surprised as well.   And once Jimin’s gone from sight, she nudges you roughly with a sly smile. “What was that all about? Did you finally grow some balls?”   “No. He was the one who approached me,” you murmur, not sure what to say.    You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing, but that’s impossible.   It was merely a prank notebook made by someone bored.   //   It’s hard to focus in class with what happened in the morning. You keep replaying the scene in your head. His soft voice. The look in his eye. How he was standing around and his smile lit when he saw you. It’s a record, a movie, that’s played again and again in your mind. Soaking every second you couldn’t take in at the time. To some it might simply be mundane small talk, but to you, who’s always looked at him from afar, the butterflies are still tickling your tummy.   The world has never been so rosy.   It’s after class that your head is still in the clouds and you’re trying to repress your giddy smile to yourself.   You’re holding your textbooks to your chest as you pass by the field, making your way home alone with Jihyo at her after-school anime club. She had a small interest in it but it only grew after befriending Namjoon there. As much as she likes to make fun of Jimin for being a nerd, Namjoon’s the real geeky one.    But that only makes your best friend and him all the more endearing. You hope they get together soon.   In the midst of your thoughts, you don’t notice the soccer practice going on.   Not until there’s fast sprinting steps crescendoing to your left.   “Y/N!” There’s an out of breath shout of your name and you halt with your eyes wide. Jimin’s panting as his team members disperse from the field. He grins. “I thought I saw you!”   You’re stunned and watch as he wipes the sweat dripping on his forehead with his blue jersey.   You blink hard, mouth full of cotton. Before today, Jimin never approached you when you were by yourself — most certainly never twice in a day.   You’ve never had this much attention from him before.   “I was worried you weren’t going to drop by like you usually do!”   “Like...I usually do?”   “Yeah.” He steadies his breath with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always noticed that you came to practice. Honestly, you’re kind of like my good luck charm. It feels weird if you’re not there.”   Your brain goes blank. You process a single word at a time. And you manage one nod.   “Hey…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with a subtle hue. “Do you want to wait till practice is over? I want to walk you home. If you’d like.”   “S-Sure…”   “Park!” his coach shouts and Jimin whirls around with a grin. “Break’s over!”   “Yeah, I’m coming!”   Park Jimin’s smiling to himself as he runs back onto the field — leaping in the air, wind whisking through his dark strands. In the meanwhile, you’re left rooted to the ground, staring at his backside. Your face is on fire and the butterflies erupt all the way to your throat. It’s magic.   “—hot dogs down at East road….”   “You comin’, Park?” Kyungsoo looks at his team member, noticing the quietness of the soccer star.   Jimin smiles before pulling the clean shirt through his head. “Nah. I have plans.”   “With who?” another interjects. “Seulgi?”   “No, someone else.”   Instantly, obnoxious ‘ooh’s fill the locker room and he rolls his eyes with a growing grin before throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and shutting his locker. Jimin exits and finds you waiting meters away.   Jimin runs to you. “Sorry for you leaving you waiting!”   “It’s okay.”   The walk home is a bit awkward. You’ve never had anyone accompany you other than Jihyo before — most certainly not a boy, and not the person you’ve been crushing on for practically four years now.   You clear your throat and steal a glance. “Is there a reason you wanted to walk me home?”   “Why?” Jimin is immediately alarmed. “Did you not want me to?”   “No!” Your eyes look into his, equally as rounded. “That’s not it. I’m...just not used to it, that’s all.”   “Honestly.” Your steps are synced together and colour blooms on his cheeks. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you more and get to know you better.”   “Oh.”   “I guess you can say I realized the other day that we went to the same elementary, but I don’t even know you that well. You can tell me if you don’t want to—”   “I want to,” you blurt before you can realize what’s coming out of your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are as big as saucers and he nods. At the same time, you frantically turn away out of embarrassment, not noticing the way Jimin was smiling to himself.   The comfortable silence simmers between the pair of you as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in a pastel tangerine hue. You can hear children on the playground nearby, see the other sidewalk occupied by a couple pulling along a stroller and the grandma in her front yard pinning up her laundry to dry.   And as you savour the moment, the back of your hand accidentally brushes against Jimin’s.   It’s soft and you flinch subtly before glancing down.   Jimin must feel it too because he follows your line of sight and clears his throat.   “Hey.” His timbre is husky and nervous. “Is it...okay if I hold your hand?”   You answer with a bob of your head.   And Jimin timidly reaches out, fingertips first, and then his palms clutch yours. Your hands are slotted together perfectly and you muse how soft his skin is.   Heat rises to your face. Heart stuttering in your chest. Butterflies a whirlwind in your stomach. But unfortunately, the moment is all too short.   “This is it.” You stop in front of your house and Jimin lets go of you.   He looks at your home and smiles. “It’s cute.”   “Thanks.” You pull open the gate, eyes diverted elsewhere lest he can see how flustered you are. “Well, I’ll see you later, Jimin. Thanks for walking me home…”   “Wait!” he shouts when you’ve taken three steps and you spin around to see him scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, um, Y/N. Would….would you like to...like to go out sometime to catch a movie or get some food this weekend. I mean you don’t have to, no pressure.”   Your mouth is twitching as you try your best not to scream on spot. “I’d like that, Jimin.”   “Okay.” A cheeky grin spreads gradually into his cheeks, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “I should probably get your number then…?”   “Sure.”   The exchange is quick and then you’re running into your house, stomping all the way up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s shout. You launch yourself into bed face first, mattress bouncing at the impact. While your limbs are sprawled out, you scream into your pillow with your furnace hot face.   You roll around in your covers, kicking your blankets.   Jimin just asked you out on a date.    He asked you out on a date and he walked you home. Park Jimin walked you home and talked to you this morning.   You’re certain your heart’s about to give out with how fast it’s beating, that the butterflies bursting in your tummy’s about to explode up your throat and out of your mouth.   You can’t believe it.    You rise up in your bed with your hair in a disarray and your bed ruined, and you look over to your desk where the pastel pink notebook is. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing.   //   “You’re going on a date?!”   Your best friend is taken off guard, but when you vehemently nod, her confusion is overcome with excitement. Jihyo engulfs you in a hug. “This is so fucking exciting! I’m so excited for you! Oh my god!” She squeals and you laugh, jumping together. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”   “I have no idea.”   “I’ll help you.” She grins. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to sweep him off his feet.”   “Easy for you to say,” you counter, “Your crush already likes you back.”   “Namjoon’s just a friend,” Jihyo sighs and then her peripheral vision catches the tall brunette passing by as if calling his name was enough to summon him. “Shush! He’s coming!”   Except you look him straight in the eye and smile. “Hey, Namjoon.”   “Hey.” Namjoon snorts as if he overheard the conversation, a smile placed on his features as his eyes linger on Jihyo before he passes by.    She remains nonchalant as if he’s invisible. Or at least until the moment he’s gone and she steps on your foot. “You were being way too obvious!”   You pout at Jihyo, grabbing her arm. “No, I wasn’t.”   “Go be cute to Jimin instead,” she scoffs while you giggle, hoping he’ll find you half as endearing as you know your best friend does.   //   The weekend comes slower than you wish it would, but arrives nonetheless.   You’re waiting at the station — intercom noisy overhead, the sound of the train breaking echoing from afar. It’s the bustle of the afternoon, of overtime office workers and other couples shuffling amongst themselves with parents following their children.   You tug on the hem of your dress that Jihyo insisted you wear. You’re not sure if it’s too much or if you caked on too much makeup, but there’s no time to overthink.   “Y/N!” Jimin meets you, dressed in casual attire of jeans and a white tee underneath a black hoodie. “I’m sorry I’m late!”   “You weren’t late, Jimin. I just came early.”   “But how long were you waiting for?”   “Not that long,” you assure and he glances at you before smiling.   “You look really nice. Like really nice.”   “T-Thanks,” the word stutters out of you and you look around, feeling conscious under his sole attention. “Where are we heading first?”   “I was thinking of catching a movie, if you’d like.”   “Sure.” The both of you start moving towards the exit. At the same time, the intercom announces the arrival of the Northbound train. It pulls up on the other side and the doors whir open a beat later, flooding the platform with passengers exiting and pushing to enter.   In the chaos, your shoulder is roughly shoved and you’re pushed aside by the rushing mass. You wince and open your eyes to discover you’re losing sight of the boy with dark strands.   But the second hopelessness begins to settle—   “Are you okay?”   Jimin’s hand has clasped yours and he’s pulled you out from the crowd. You stumble in a place where you can breathe again. Jimin smiles sweetly and you’re not sure if he’s an angel or not.   “I thought I lost you,” you admit in an exhale.   “Don’t worry, I would never let you out of my sight.” His grip is firm and secure. Jimin squeezes tenderly and leads you out the exit again — this time with you in hand.   You feel your palm getting warm. “Sorry, my hand’s a bit sweaty.”   “I don’t mind.”   Your heart catches in your throat.    You hope this lasts forever.   The pair of you end up catching a romance movie in a cute, local theater called When Spring Meets Autumn. But towards the end, you’re not sure what it’s about. Not when all you can think about is the fact that Jimin’s beside you, how he’s leaning your way, your elbows are brushing. The way his arm ends up draping over the back of your seat.   All you can do is steal glances at him.   Your eye eventually catches his and your attempt of pretending you weren’t staring is futile.    You feel Jimin lean even closer, noticing a soft smile playing on his lips. “Is there something wrong?” he whispers.   You shake your head. It’s the opposite. This is a dream come true.   “I’m usually more into action than romance,” he says as the both of you walk alongside one another over the bridge. “I can’t believe that actress died ten minutes into the movie though.”   “Oh yeah.” You laugh awkwardly, not able to recall. Your eyes travel towards the cityscape and then the lake that you were crossing. Your ears perk at the giggles of couples in pedal boats, blue boats they’re using to cross the waters together. Envy stems in your mind. They sure were taking advantage of the warm weather.   Jimin notices your fixation. “Have you ever been?”   You shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to go in it with my family, but I never got the chance.”   “We could do it now.”   Your eyes meet his. “Right now?”   “Why not?” He grins boyishly, already taking your hand again.   It’s ten dollars for ten minutes and you split the cost in half, in spite of how much he insists on paying for the ride. The boat wobbles as you get in, but Jimin holds your hand and guides you, laughing while the instructor asks if you want a life jacket for the second time and shows the rules nailed onto the wooden board.   The two of you get settled in and start pedaling with your feet.    But you don’t get anywhere and bump into the dock instead.   “The left person paddles!” The instructor yells and Jimin’s wide-eyed before he nods and follows.   “This is actually my first time too,” he admits shyly as you finally get into the lake. “I wanted to look cool.”   Laughter unabashedly bubbles out of your throat. “It’s okay, Jimin. You’re very cool to me.”   “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”   “No!” You retort in the midst of giggles. “I’m being honest!”   You both paddle to the middle of the lake and it’s a lot more work than you expected. You’re sure you don’t look flattering in your dress pedaling a boat but there’s no time to dwell when you’re having this much fun.   At least not until you feel your toes getting wet.   “Oh my god!” You flinch. “There’s a hole in the boat!”   Water leaks up to your ankles and it’s only getting faster. “Paddle to shore!” Jimin shouts in the midst of laughing. You giggle and as if to make matters worse, the rolling clouds over the horizon begin pouring rain. It spits and then starts showering on top of your heads.   You’re becoming soaked from both ways, but rather than being upset, you’re laughing and giggling hysterically with one another.    Jimin helps you up onto the harbour and holds your hand as you run away to get some cover. You find some under a closed store canopy on a nearby quiet street. The pair of you face the road, unable to see far with the thick, heavy rain morphing the city to monochrome.   Warm giggles fill the spaces beside you. “I’m going to be honest, I imagined the first date with you would be a lot better than this.”   You meet Jimin’s eye and take the chance to tease him. “You imagined it?”   But he doesn’t make a snarky comeback. Jimin is genuine as he is shy. “Yeah. I have. I like you a lot, Y/N. I think...I have for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.”   It’s silent — the peaceful kind of quiet that lingers. As cold as the rain is, your face warms. But you wonder if this is how Jimin really feels or if it’s the Love Pages’ doing.   Your trance is shattered by an embarrassed laugh.   “You shouldn’t leave a guy waiting after they confessed, you know.” Jimin tilts his head, eyes tender and smile kind. “It makes it feel like you’re about to reject me.”   Reject him?!   “I’ve liked you since eighth grade,” you blurt loudly, the honesties pouring out of your mouth. They’re words you never thought you would have the chance to say. A confession you’ve always held in your throat. Secrets you held so close to you and were too cowardice to speak.   But the compassionate Jimin you’re facing makes you brave.   He grins, a growing smile that spreads into his cheeks and makes his eyes gleam. “Really?”   “I have ever since you helped me in that group project.”   “I did?” His brows furrow. “I can’t really recall.”   It’s disheartening to hear considering that the memory is significant to you, but you elaborate as if you could jog his mind. “Science class with Mr. Chen. No one was listening and I was really stressed, but you helped me.”   The recognition never seems to set in his eyes, but instead, they flicker down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”   You nod furiously and Jimin smiles before he leans in with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers lift to hold your chin and your eyes flutter shut. Soft lips meet yours.   It’s a sweet kiss, a brief and chaste one. Your very first. And your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You can practically hear Jimin’s thundering heartbeat underneath the thumping rain.   //   The giddiness lasts an hour later. You can’t resist the enormous grin on your face even when you slap your own cheeks and tell yourself to calm down. It’s still cloudy outside when you get home, the rain subsided into scattering droplets, yet you feel warm inside.   “I’m hom—”    The announcement is cut short when you stumble on a pair of shoes. You catch yourself and look down to find odd brown loafers that don’t belong to your mom, dad or you.   There’s only one other person.   “Hobi?!”   As if the day couldn’t get any better.   You sprint into the living room to find your older brother sitting on the couch and he turns around with a small smile. “If it isn’t my baby sister.”   “What are you doing here?” It’s not like him to visit unannounced, but as you step forward into the evening light, you discover his reddened eyes and the swollen area underneath is as if he’s been crying. Colour instantly drains from your face and your expression falls. “Is...there something wrong?”   Your pupils stray to the suitcase beside him.    Hoseok musters another smile. “Surprise. I’m moving back.”   “W-Where’s Irene?”   “She’s not coming.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s…..over. We’re getting a divorce.”   What?   //   Life — he told you is what happened. Careers got busy. Staying together turned out to be more of a chore than expected. And it seemed like there were more arguments than there were proper conversations.   Hoseok followed it up with a hard swallow and nonchalantly told you that sometimes things just don’t work out. But by the look on his face, you know he was holding back tears.    You’ve never seen your brother cry before.   “What do you mean?!”   “What happened? Did she kick you out? For how long?! Where are you planning to go now?!”   Your parents are in hysterics, exasperated and stunned by the situation. Your dad is tense in the armchair while your mother is pacing the floor. You watch the three of them through the gap of your bedroom door, not sure if you should intrude or what you would even say.   “This doesn’t make any sense! The two of you were fine last week!”   “We weren’t, mom,” Hoseok assures in a weak voice with his downcast head.   “Have you spoken to her yet?! Did the pair of you sit down and talk properly?”   Your older brother releases a staggering exhale from his lungs. “We have,” his voice cracks, “enough times. And...it’s...it’s over between us.”   This isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening.   Your mother cries, “Hoseok, are you giving up?! You can’t just give up! This is your marriage that we’re talking about. This is serious!”   “This isn’t just up for me to decide!” Hoseok retorts in a shout, finally lifting his face. “I can’t do anything about it when she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore!”   You shut the door quietly, pressing your back against the surface. You’re as shocked as your parents are — maybe even more so. You were the one who saw it first hand. You’re the one who tagged along when they went to play, when Irene knocked on the door every morning to go to school together, you’re the one who sat in the backseat as they took a road trip down to the beach six summers ago.   The two of them grew up together in this neighbourhood. They’re soulmates.   And you know that best.   Your dad’s voice is muffled through the walls. “—happened exactly?”    “—doesn’t love me anymore……..wanted a break weeks ago.”   Hoseok’s eagerness, Irene’s calmness. Their sense of humour, their ambitions in life — it all aligns like puzzle pieces meant to fit. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who has eyes and ears would’ve thought that their relationship would be inevitable.    They’re soulmates — better together than apart — and you could bet your entire existence on that fact.   You march across the stretch of your room and sit yourself down in the chair. Swiftly and silently, you pull open the last drawer of your desk and grab the pastel pink notebook.   Pushing your chemistry textbook, candle and lighter aside, you flip open the pages.   Kang Irene            L/N Hoseok L/N Hoseok          Kang Irene   The names are written without needing to blink twice, straight lines and big print. Twice to make sure that both sides are the same, that affections will be reciprocated. But you know it’s childish.   You can only hope it works.   //   Dinner is stiff. Little bites are taken, each person nibbling on the food. No words are exchanged across the table when the tension is so thick. Neither your mom or your dad speaks another word about the issue with the way Hoseok’s brooding. There’s no point in making futile commentary, in adding gasoline to the fire after all, so you don’t press on the matter either.   But ten minutes into dinner, the silence is interrupted by the doorbell.   It echoes throughout the home and heads lift, eyes looking at one another.   Hoseok is the first who moves. As if he has a sixth sense or a foolish wish of who it could be.   Who he hopes it is.   And as you and your parents follow after him while he opens the door, that wish is granted.   Irene stands at the doorstep in a cream coat and leggings, bag thrown over her shoulder. She’s out of breath as if she rushed over, yet the pair of them don’t speak. They gaze at one another quietly. Hoseok grips the doorknob, eyes pinned on his wife as she looks back into his brown irises warmed by the dim light of the foyer. Their eyes are tender, expressions pained.   “C-Can I come in?” she asks in an exhale.   Hoseok nods fervently.   As much as your parents would like to listen in to the conversation, they both give Hoseok and Irene a private moment. One you observe through the crack of your door.   There’s an exchange of sighs and muffled apologies.   And when your brother finally asks what she’s doing here, Irene responds in a beat. “I still love you.”   “W-What? But just a few hours ago...you….you said….we were done. This is so sudden.”   “I know.” With her downcast head, tears trickle down her cheeks. “I know that. But I regretted it the second you were gone, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin—”   Hoseok pulls her in close, cradling her face against his shoulder as he embraces her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you too.”   The corner of your mouth tugs and you look away when they kiss. They’re surmounting the bittersweet moment together, leaving behind the point where they were so close to abandoning their relationship.   Your parents emerge with you lingering behind and you’re relieved as they are.   “I’m sorry.” Irene dips her head.   Your father glances at your mother and then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Couples fight all the time. It’s only natural when you’re living together.”   “Does this mean you’re not staying over?” You intrude, quirking your head at your brother who smirks. “I thought we were gonna have a massive sleepover.”   Your mom nudges you. “Let him leave with Irene. They should spend time together.”   Hoseok laughs. “Maybe next time, squirt. I’ll make sure to come home next week and visit. This time, properly.” He gazes at his wife who nods.   The two of them leave hand in hand, closer than they were before.   It's the perfect outcome. All you could have hoped for. What you know is meant to be.   But it isn’t a mere coincidence that Irene came here, that they made up with one another.   You know it in your bones — the Love Pages works and it’s your saviour.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihyo notes with a brow raised and you snap back to attention, realizing that you’ve been humming and smiling to yourself.    “I guess I just have a lot to be happy about,” you sing-song and your best friend scoffs lighty with a tiny smile of her own.   “Yeah, cause you’re dating Park Jimin and even wearing his sweater. Life’s good, isn’t it?”   You look down to the navy material that’s soft to the touch, sleeves draped past your fingers. He gave it to you after noticing that you were cold one evening and said you could keep it. You’re happy to wear it too since it carries his comforting scent and makes it clear what your relationship with him is.   You smile, unable to retort Jihyo’s snarky yet playful tone.   And she notices your love-struck state, rolling her eyes before she’s interrupted by a gawky brunette whose height towers over her sitting form. “Jihyo, you said you had the homework answers?”   She looks up and deadpans, “I never said I would give them to you, Namjoon.”   You’re stunned at how your best friend can be so cold to her crush, but you know it’s just a front to keep herself from being flustered and out of control.    Namjoon seems to know as well since he grins. “I thought we could compare.”   “Fine.” She exhales, acting like it’s all a chore when you’re certain she’s ecstatic. Jihyo brushes a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smooths out her skirt as she stands. “Let’s see what you have, Joon.”   You watch them stride across the classroom to his desk, eyes tracing their backsides. And then you’re reaching down to your backpack for the pastel pink notebook. You’re not sure when you started bringing it around with you, but the Love Pages have become your good luck charm. You feel naked without it in your possession.   No one notices when you push aside your biology textbook. When you flip it open. When you take your pencil and begin scribbling names inside.   Kim Namjoon       Park Jihyo   There’s a reason this notebook fell into your lap and you’re not going to let it go to waste. Out of everyone you know, Jihyo deserves her feelings to be reciprocated. And you’ll play cupid if that’s what it takes.   Swiftly, the notebook is closed and you slide it back into your backpack.    A beat later, your best friend is returning and colour is drained from her face. She plops down in her desk chair, the seat in front of yours.   “Jihyo?” She looks like she’s seen a ghost and you’re alarmed, wondering if something went wrong. “What happened?”   “Namjoon...he….he….” She blinks hard. “He just asked me out…?”   “What?” Your head whips across the classroom where said boy is smiling at your friend. You didn’t know the effects of the Pages are so instantaneous. “When? Right now?”   She nods after a delayed second and a smile spreads into your face. You try to keep your squeals down before it collects the attention of the rest of the class. “Oh my god, Jihyo! I’m so happy for you!”   Her brows furrow. “I don’t get it….it came out of nowhere….”   “Does it matter?” You grab your best friend’s hands. “You’re going on a date with Kim Namjoon!”   “I am. I...am!” Your best friend finally looks you in the eye, giddy at the idea. “I need to go shopping!”   //   “—and then she came back and told me that he asked her out!” You’re smiling from ear to ear, twirling around to face Jimin as he watches you with a smile. You don’t think it’s possible that you could be any happier than this. Not only do you have Jimin by your side, but you’ve granted both your brother and your best friend their wishes. “They’re going to catch a movie this weekend, I think.”   “You’re so excited,” he laughs. “Sounds like you’re the one going on the date.”   “Jihyo’s liked Namjoon for so long. I’m just happy for her.”   “You spend a lot of time with Jihyo, huh?” Jimin comments as you come to a stop at the light, waiting for the pedestrian signal to come on.   “She’s my only friend,” you admit with a small smile, reminiscing over the years. Your steps sync with Jimin’s again. “My best friend. We’ve been through thick and thin.”   “I’m jealous,” your boyfriend squeezes your hand, eyes glimmering. “I want you all to myself.”   You lightly scoff at his flirtation and his smile only widens until you let go of your interlaced hands to open the mailbox in front of your house. But unfortunately, there’s nothing inside. No acceptance or even rejection letters from any colleges or universities like you were anticipating.   There’re no bills or advertisement pamphlets either which probably means your dad’s home from work and beaten you to the punch.   “Well, I’ll call you later then, Jimi—”   “Can I come in?” he asks, eyes twinkling with hope. You’re taken aback and glance over your shoulder, not sure if introducing your boyfriend to your parents so soon is a good idea. While you know they try their hardest, your parents can be extremely overbearing. They tend to bombard anyone you talk to with a million questions, yet somehow, they’re still out of touch with your life.    Your relationship with your parents isn’t spectacular to say the least. But when Jimin takes a step forward with confidence, you have a feeling that they’ll like him as much as you do.    After all, who doesn’t like Jimin?   And you’re not wrong.   “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He dips his head in greeting, tone respectful as he stands in the foyer of your home. Your mom’s brows are raised to her hairline while your dad is seemingly sizing him up. “My name is Park Jimin. I’m Y/N’s classmate.”   “Actually, he’s my boyfriend,” you clarify, deciding to be straightforward with it and your parents exchange expressions.   But within minutes, you know they’ve fallen for him too.   “Oh dear, you’re on the soccer team as well?”   Jimin nods. “I’ve been playing since elementary, but I’m not that great at it.”   “That’s a blatant lie,” you object while sticking your head from the kitchen into the living room where they’re seated. “Jimin’s the star of the soccer team.”   “That’s very remarkable,” your father notes with stars practically in his eyes. You have to hold back laughter just watching them. “How do you manage to be so studious, keep up such great grades, maintain a social life and play sports at the same time?”   “I’m not as impressive as it sounds,” Jimin laughs shyly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just do a little every day. I think having supportive parents help a lot and having Y/N around does too. She’s always supported me, even before we got together, so I owe her a lot.”   Their smiles are bright, bodies relieved and you match Jimin’s soft smile. Any nervousness of having Jimin meet your family vanishes like it never even existed. And for a moment, you imprint the scene in front of you in the forefront of your brain. You wonder if your future will someday look like this — Jimin sitting across from your parents in your family home.   “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jimin?” your mother asks and he enthusiastically nods.   //   Life is perfect.   “You’ll come to my game, right?”   “Of course, I will!”   The days and weeks are flying by fast, and you’re getting closer and closer to graduation. It’s hectic but a busyness that isn’t tiring — not when you’re enjoying every moment of it.   “And the winner of the final soccer match of this season goes to Daykey High!”   Cheers erupt from the stands and as you shoot up with your own hollers, Jimin whips his body around after being dogpiled on by his teammates and grins. He races up the stands when he gets a chance, engulfs you in his embrace and gives you a sweaty kiss full of vigour that has you smiling.   Months ago, you would’ve never known your last months of high school would be spent so perfectly. It feels like a dream come true, like your biggest desires have been granted.   “Jimin!”   “What?”   “Are you going to come, dude? We’ve missed you at like five hangouts so far. C’mon, this one’s gonna be the last one, you have to come.”   “Nah.” He grabs his duffle bag. “Sorry, guys. I'll probably have to back out of this one too. Can’t leave my girlfriend waiting.”   “What’s going on, Chim?” The soccer captain steps forward with his brows furrowed. “This isn’t like you.”   “What do you mean?” Jimin laughs. “Nothing’s going on.”   Another snorts and slings an arm over his shoulder. “You got it bad for your girl, don’t you?”   Jimin’s sheepish when he admits it. “She’s the only one for me.”   Sometimes you’re frightened that you’ll wake up one morning and find that everything you’ve been living through was really just a dream. But time and time again, you open your eyes to see the pastel pink notebook on your desk. And it’s a reminder that it’s what brought you all this joy.    The Love Pages made this possible.   “H-Hey, Jimin.” Seulgi lingers outside the locker room, struggling to meet his eye as she teeters from side to side. “Congratulations on winning.”   “Thanks! It was a tough game, but I’m glad we pulled through.”   “Yeah...well..um…I—.”   “I’ll see you around?” Jimin smiles and Seulgi nods after a delayed second. They exchange small smiles full of distant politeness, but as Jimin turns to catch up to you, his expression grows genuine.   You hope this lasts forever.   //   “Hey, Jihyo….”   “What.”   “How are your eyes so beautiful?” Namjoon mutters and the girl busy with her paper turns her head to glare at him. The corner of his mouth curls and he hums, “I wonder how I’ll go on without you. I might miss you to death.”   She scoffs, unwavered by the greasy lines. “Get your ass to class before you’re late.”   Namjoon grins and as he gets up, grabbing his bag with him, he makes sure to plant a surprise kiss to the top of her head. The gawky boy laughs at his partner’s scandalized expression and takes his leave.    In the meanwhile, the smile itching up your features finally reveals itself and you march across the library floor to plop down into the seat that Namjoon had occupied. “You two lovebirds really need a room.”   Jihyo makes a noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat.   “How did the fourth date go?”   “What? Oh yeah. It was fine.” Her response is short and you chalk it up to her merely concentrating on finishing her assignment, but after a minute, Jihyo lifts her chin and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N.”    “What?”   “Do you think Namjoon’s off somehow?”   “What do you mean?”   “I know him.” Jihyo pauses. “Namjoon would rather die than say something as cheesy as he just did.”   You loll your head to one side and shrug. “I don’t know. Love changes people, Jihyo. You should stop overthinking it and just let yourself be loved.”   She blinks and hums, returning back to her work.   //   The library is becoming quieter and quieter as summer arrives. Jihyo doesn’t blame everyone for preferring to spend their remaining days outside with their friends than hanging out in a place surrounded by bookshelves and studying for exams. But if anything, it makes her job easier.   There are fewer books to shelve, fewer people to attend to and less to clean up.   With only a student here or there, she’s able to savour the last shifts of library duty left.   “Joon.”   “Hmmm?”   Not to mention, no one really bats a lash with her boyfriend hanging around beside her.    Ever since they started dating officially, Namjoon’s been glued to her side. But Jihyo doesn’t mind. The company and conversations are welcome. Even the librarian finds him endearing.   “When did you become interested in me?”   Namjoon is seemingly perplexed by the question and their eyes meet as they stand between the thin aisle between two looming bookcases. “I don’t know. One moment, everything was fine and then the next, I started feeling this way.”   Jihyo’s frowns. “Suddenly?”   “It was a bit weird for me too, but then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It...hit me and it was intense, so I asked you out.” His smile softens, dimples creased into each side of his cheek. “Why?”   Jihyo sighs and shakes her head. “No reason. It just seemed like you never liked me like that before or at least you never hinted at it.”   “That’s true. I saw you as just a friend for the longest time.” Namjoon leans in, his smile sweet towards his girlfriend. “Is that such a bad thing?”   Jihyo scoffs lightly but then shakes her head with a tiny smile.    Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is overthinking it.   “I just have to get used to it.”   It’s that same afternoon that Jihyo walks home by herself — Namjoon busy with his other clubs and unable to accompany her. She doesn’t mind much, actually finding solace in her alone time.    But Jihyo’s mind wanders and she realizes it’s been a long time since she’s hung out with you outside of class or library duty. Jimin’s monopolized you these days and as happy as she is to watch you giddy, she misses her best friend.   4:38 pm. Jihyo: wanna go out for ice cream or something   4:39 pm. Y/N: hell yeah!!! :D 4:39 pm. Y/N: omw home 4:39 pm. Y/N: wanna meet up there?   Jihyo smiles to herself and turns down the familiar street to your house.    The school’s boundary lines are narrow, so most of the students live in the same small neighbourhood. And considering that Jihyo’s been your friend since grade six, she’s no stranger to your house, the white mailbox, the gate, and the small yard that the pair of you used to play on.   They’re all nostalgic memories to her.   “About time!” she calls out when she sees you.   You laugh, quickening your strides. “It only took me five minutes!”   “On another date with Jimin?”   Jihyo follows after you, through the door and up the stairs to your room. It’s quiet which only means your mom’s running errands and your dad’s not home from work yet.   “We just went to a bookstore and grabbed food.”   She laughs and drops her backpack by your bed. “Can you eat ice-cream then?”   “Don’t you know there’s always room for dessert?” You grin while patting your stomach. “Speaking of which, I need to take a leak before we leave. Be right back.”   She snorts and pulls out her phone to check her usual apps. But there’s nothing much to see aside from the string of heart emojis that Namjoon sends for no reason. She rolls her eyes, but smiles to herself.   Namjoon’s an idiot. But he should be lucky he’s a cute one.   Jihyo boredly wanders to your desk, eyes falling upon the shell pink container. She holds the candle up, glad that you actually liked the birthday present enough to burn half of it. Then she sets it down and picks up the lighter, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   She puts it down, looks over the polaroids you have strung on the wall, and then her eyes stray to a crime novel you have pushed on the side of your desk.   Jihyo smiles to herself in amusement. She didn’t know you picked up reading recently.   Curious, she flips it over to read the synopsis of the book, but then something underneath catches her eye.   A baby pink notebook.   The Love Pages.   Her brows furrow and she discards the crime novel to the side in favour of the magnetizing pull coming from the notebook. She’s curious. Her intuition forces her to look.    Jihyo turns the notebook over, and she becomes more and more bewildered as she reads the rules. As she reads the warning. Then, she flips it open. At the same time you return.   “J-Jihyo?”   You’re frozen at the door.   “Y/N. What is this?”   “Nothing.”    You damn yourself for not putting the notebook in the drawer, for not bringing it with you like you so often do. You forgot about taking it with you this morning when you were in a rush to get ready and now you’re paying the price for your mistake.   You take two wide strides across the floor to snatch—   But Jihyo’s grip remains firm.   She doesn’t let you rip the notebook from her hands. Her tight hold crinkles the corners of the pages.   “Y/N.” Jihyo’s eyes meet yours. Cold. Firm. “What is this?”   You release your sigh and your arm comes to your side. “Remember when we were cleaning out the storage room of the library two months ago? I found it there and it works. I know it’s hard to believe, but it works, Jihyo.”   It takes a second for the words to sink in.   But then it hits Jihyo like a freight train, slamming into her form, smashing into her brain. She doesn’t want to believe it — not when it’s so outrageous and outlandish — but it all clicks.   Everything finally makes sense.   “Is this….how you got Namjoon to go out with me?” Her pupils trace his name on the lined paper and then the straight lines of her own name. Jihyo looks up at you, colour drained from her face. She whispers as if someone could overhear, “Is this how you got Jimin to go out with you?”   “I wrote it as a joke first.” Your voice is pitched as you frantically explain, “but then Jimin started to pay attention to me and the next day, he even asked me out! I...I didn’t think it worked but then Hoseok came home and he was about to get divorced, Jihyo. It was really bad. But I wrote their names in and they’re fine now. See? It works and it’s a good thing!”   She shakes her head slowly, connecting the dots.   “You wrote my name in it...and you didn’t even ask me.”   “I know and I’m sorry.” Your palms are clammy. You’re not sure why she’s so upset with you, why she’s giving you such a horrified look as if you did something so wrong. “But I didn’t know if you would believe me and since it worked, I thought...why not.”   “Why not?! You didn’t ask for my consent! I didn’t want this! I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!”   “What do you mean you didn’t want this?” It’s your turn to be upset — if anything, you did Jihyo a favour. You were looking out for her as her friend. “You liked Namjoon for the longest time! I did this for you!”   “This isn’t what I wanted!” Jihyo’s voice is shrill and you flinch. “This is so wrong, Y/N. This is so fucked.”   “How? We got what we wanted, didn’t we?!”   “But have you ever thought about the other side?! Have you ever thought about them?” she asks, coming face to face with you. “You’ve made everything artificial! Why would you go against their will and control them like this?”   “It’s not against their will!”   “It is!” Jihyo screams, voice straining in her throat. “Namjoon only saw me as a friend and nothing more, and Jimin didn’t even know you!”   Her words reverberate in your ears.    Jimin didn’t even know you.   Your fist curls as you tremble. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as tears threaten at your lash line. You can’t believe she just said that, that she can be so ungrateful. She doesn’t get it. And you thought out of anyone, Jihyo would be the one who would understand you most.   “How do you get rid of it?” she demands, thrusting the notebook to your face. “How?!”   “You….have to erase the names.”   “Then fucking do it!”   “Fine! Move!” You push her aside and press the book to your desk, grabbing the pencil that nearly rolls off.    You take the eraser end and rub her name and Namjoon’s from the paper. Fine. If she wants you to erase it, you’ll erase it. But you know she’ll come running back to you to write it in again.   You scrub the names hard enough that the shiny surface of the paper dulls. Hard enough that the pink eraser bits fill the page. That your hand physically hurts.   You show her when you’re done.   “There. Happy?”   “Erase Jimin’s name.”   “What?” By sheer instincts, you pull back and press the notebook to you. “No.”   “Y/N. This is crazy. This is so wrong. You’re violating your morals for—”   “I have no morals,” you cut her off. She can yell at you, shame you, make you erase what you did for her. But you draw the line here. “Don’t you realize, Jihyo? You said it yourself. Jimin never looked twice at me. And I know he would’ve never asked me out. He would’ve never gone on that date, he would’ve never made me his girlfriend. He would’ve never told me he loves me.”   “Y/N—”   “I’ve never been loved or looked at like this before.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging, the lump in your throat makes it hard to talk. Most of all, your heart aches. “For the first time in my life, I’ve actually had someone like me back. For the first time in my life, I’ve had someone love me like that. Without this notebook, it would’ve been impossible.”   “But you can’t force him—”   “I’m not forcing him to do anything!” Blood curdles at the back of your throat. You wish someone else was in the house, then they could rush upstairs and take Jihyo away from you. Away from threatening your happiness. “That’s not how the Love Pages works!”   She steps forward, arm extending. “Then if that’s true, erase his name.”   You flinch away from her. “I will never erase Jimin’s name!”   “Y/N!” — “Leave me alone!”   You try to push past her, but Jihyo grabs the notebook.   Your attempt to rip it from her grip and shove her away is ultimately futile. Jihyo’s grabbed hold of the edge and she’s not letting go. In your desperation, you catch a fistful of her hair and she stomps on your foot, shouting ‘bitch!’ at you. You cry aloud, wonder why it’s so hard for you to be happy.   You love him.   Your hands are slipping, but you untangle your fingers from Jihyo’s head and manage to seize the cover with your right hand. The notebook flips open, papers dangling downwards between your struggle.    Jihyo screams for you to let go, that this is crazy, but you ignore her. She knows nothing.   You love Jimin. And all you want is for him to love you back.   The pair of you yank back and forth. When it looks like you’re about to win, Jihyo snags a page near the back. And it rips as you snatch it towards you.   The paper tears.   You both stumble to the ground from the force of your grasps.   Your own hand slams into your mouth, bruising your lip. Jihyo across from you has her hair in a disarray and you’re horrified to find her holding her eye. She cusses again, tone venomous.   The notebook falls beside you, the empty white page fluttering in between.   It’s silent as you two hyperventilate. Then Jihyo stands. She brushes past you, roughly grabbing her bag.   “Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.”   The girl stomps out and you don’t look behind you. You don’t race after her, tell her to wait, explain that there’s a misunderstanding. Because there isn’t. You already said your piece.   You allow the slamming of the front door to echo. But you do get up to watch her from the window. She acts like this is your fault, that you did something so horrible to her when what you did for her was a miracle.   She’s the ungrateful bitch. Self-righteous in the dumbest ways. And you hope she never comes back.   //   Even when your anger has subsided, you know there are certain things that can’t be forgiven.   Jihyo ignores you when you glance in her direction, when you move past her, when you stand in front of her. At school and lunch, she hangs out with the other girls, never once sparing you a look or the friendly smile she gives to her new friends. And it’s a change that others notice.   “Is everything okay?” your classmate asks curiously. “Did you and Jihyo have a fight or something?”   Your bruised lip and the skin around her eye blossomed blue speaks for itself.   “Something like that.” You muster a smile. “But I’m fine.”   “Oh. Well, make up soon then.”   But you highly doubt that’ll happen.    If she wants to be a bitch, then you can be one too. You can ignore her. You can pretend she doesn’t exist…..   But unlike Jihyo, it’s always been harder for you to be cold. Not when you’ve spent so many years and made countless memories together. So you’re unable to resist when Namjoon comes by during the last shift of your library duty — one that you know she’s arranged to be absent at.   “Do you know where she is?”   Yet, the tall brunette merely shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Jihyo...actually broke up with me yesterday, so….yeah….”   “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that, Namjoon.”   He smiles. “It’s okay. It was pretty mutual.”   You watch him leave, not batting a single lash, without a single trace of heartbreak on his features and then you divert your vision. You know things will never be the same for them again.   Jihyo and Namjoon might never become as friendly as they were prior to their relationship. But you also know she’s wrong. You never forced Jimin to do anything. You didn’t force him to have feelings for you. That’s not how the Love Pages works—   “BOO!”   A hand comes down on your shoulder and a scream tears out of your throat as you spin around. You nearly fall on the ground from startlement, but Jimin latches onto your wrist, stabilizing you.   “Y-You almost scared me to death!”   “Sorry, sorry.” Your boyfriend laughs. “I didn’t know you would be so scared.”   “Don’t do that again,” you scold, heart rate steadying. “How long were you even following me for?”   “Not that long. You seemed a bit off. I had to make sure you got home safe and didn’t talk to anyone else.” Jimin syncs his steps into yours, familiar with the route you take home after accompanying you so many times. But as silence simmers between the pair of you, he takes notice. Jimin slips his hand into yours, slowing down. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   You shake your head, words caught in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, what you can tell him. How he’d even react. And it’s all too overwhelming for you to bear.   Against your will, you burst into tears.    The tsunami of emotions — anger, sorrow, regret — they clog your chest and shed in the form of teardrops. It hangs on your lashes, drips down your cheeks, clouds your vision. And the only comfort you receive is when Jimin reaches out, guiding your head to his shoulder.   “J-Jihyo….she….she hates me…”   You hang onto him, tight fists clutching onto Jimin’s jacket.    You were scared — scared when your only friend turned their back against you and found others to replace you so quickly, frightened when you realized just how isolated you are, petrified when you had a taste of what it’s like to walk the halls alone, to eat alone, to sit alone. To be alone. To be abandoned.    If Jimin leaves too, you’ll truly have no one.   “It’s okay,” he hums, locking you in a secure embrace. “You don’t need anyone but me.”   Jimin consoles you without needing to be asked. He soothes you and says the things you’ve yearned to hear since yesterday. You return his hug, quieting your sobs and strengthening your resolve.   You can’t give him up.   //   You’re not sure why it took you so long to realize what is and isn’t important. In a blink of an eye, the entire world seems to have shifted. The things — people — you treasured can so easily throw you away and all this time, you didn’t know. You’ve been played. Time wasted.   “Y/N, are you home?” your mom calls from the kitchen as the front door shuts and she stumbles out with a frown. “You’re later than usual today. Were you with someone? Jihyo?”   “I was with Jimin,” you sigh, kicking off your shoes.   “Where did you go?”   “Nowhere. We just talked.”   “About what?”   “Nothing! God, can you stop asking me questions?!” You stomp up the stairs.   Your mother exhales in frustration and calls after you, “Well get yourself looking nice! Your brother and Irene are coming over for dinner tonight! Are you listening to me?! Don’t ignore me, Y/N!”   But you do ignore her as you zip to your room and shut the door.    Finally, you’re able to get a moment of peace and quiet, and once it settles, you take two large strides across your room. You swiftly slip the Love Pages out of your backpack and into the bottom drawer of your desk. Without blinking, you grab the half-burnt pink candle and dump it into the bin.   I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!   Your bottom lip trembles but your determination hardens as you begin tearing off the strung polaroids on your wall. You’re suffocated just looking at them.   Bitch!   Your sixteenth birthday spent with Jihyo — sleepovers in seventh grade — summers spent at summer camp. You rip the photographs all off and they follow the candle in the trash.   Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.   An unpleasant feeling sits at the pit of your stomach and you flop down onto your bed. You shut your eyes before being plagued by the moment she turns her back, how she passes by the hall, giggling with other classmates. They’re moments played over and over until you feel nauseous.   “It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself and repeat, “It’s fine.”   You’re graduating soon. You can finally get away from here. You can move far away, to a university out of the city.   You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, tears stinging. And you inhale a staggering breath.   Soon. You can go with Jimin and the two of you can vanish together. You’ll never have to think about your lost best friend or what you did. You can leave the Love Pages behind.

It’s a permanent turning point.   Your friendship with Jihyo never mends or is even a topic of conversation. Sometimes, you can feel her looking at you from the corner of her eye as if she’s judging you for the secret she knows. One she’s aware no one would believe her for, but that you both know what you did.   You don’t speak to each other, merely passing by in the same spaces and no one asks. After all, friends drift apart all the time. Everyone merely finds a new normal and so do you.   Jimin becomes your new best friend.    Sometimes, you eat lunch with his friends. Sometimes, it’s solely with him. The two of you continue going on dates and when you’re not, it’s conversations through text or shy talks on the phone.   And sometimes—   “C’mon, no one’s home.”   “Yeah, but what if your mom returns and finds me in her son’s bedroom? That would be a bad look.”   He laughs. “I promise she won’t. And even if she did, she’d still love you.”   “I don’t know about that, Jimin.”   “I’ll still love you and that’s what’s important, right?”    Jimin pulls you into his cozy house and before you know it, your back is pressed against his soft sheets as he hovers over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. No teasing words are spoken when the boy leans down to capture his lips with yours.    It’s an eager kiss where you’re able to relish in the softness and the warmth of Jimin’s skin. Your arms automatically loop around his torso and you feel his smile against you. Jimin steals all the breath from your lungs and you’re left gasping as his mouth trails from your jaw to your neck.   “J-Jimin,” you pant his name with swollen lips, leaning into his touch.   “I missed you.”   “What’d yo..u mean? I saw you today.”   “Seeing isn't enough.” His mouth sucks into the juncture of your neck, marking it red to his liking and knowing it’ll bloom blue. Jimin lifts himself and smiles tenderly. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.”   His gaze is soft, full of affection and endearment, and it swells your heart.   “I’m yours.”   “That’s right. You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses you again. He fiddles with the hem of your plush sweater and not long after, he’s tugging your camisole down.   Sometimes you stay in Jimin’s bed, limbs tangled with one another’s. Other times, he’s busy with soccer practice and you come home by yourself—   “Huh, did someone….move my cardigan?”    You frown, wondering why it’s draped over the back of your chair and not the bed. Maybe your mom was trying to clean up for you again.   “Hello?” you call, poking your head out your door. There isn’t an answer.    You scoff to yourself, wondering what you were expecting.   Anyway, life for the most part is normal again. With Jimin by your side, he’s become a pillar of your strength and a reason for your resiliency. He is the many of your firsts. And he makes you look forward to even better days.   “Hey. Jimin?”   “Hmm?”   The pair of you are laying in his small bed and you shift your head to find him gazing at you with tender eyes and a softened smile. It tickles your own lips and you stare at him — his brown kaleidoscopic irises, his dark strands of hair nearly pricking into them.   It’s quiet in his house with his parents gone and the fuzzy afternoon sunlight casting through the window makes you sleepy. If you don’t blink, you can spot the specs of dust floating in the air.   “What are you thinking about?”   “Nothing much.” Your voice is a murmur and you inhale gently, senses filled with Jimin’s comforting scent. “Do you think...you would’ve loved me before this school year?”   “Of course, I would.” Jimin smiles as if you’re silly. “We’re meant to be.”   He twines his hand with yours, fingers interlaced, and your sleepy smile stretches into cheeks.   But Jihyo’s cursed you. She’s done the worst possible thing.   She’s planted a seed in your mind. A seed of doubt. And it’s sprouted, taken root, embedded and coiled deep enough that you can’t tug it out. Even beautiful moments like these, you’re plagued by her words. You can't help wondering if this is really Jimin or the Love Pages’ doing.    It’s chilly one night as you’re walking by yourself, going home from the convenient store down several blocks. The street lights are bright, illuminating both your figure and casting your shadow on the brick.    But then you halt. Feet against the asphalt. Turning around.   You swear, you felt eyes—   Ring. Your phone rings suddenly and you jolt in startlement. You fumble before pulling it out and pressing it to your ear.    “Hello?” You continue walking, except this time, your steps quicken. “Jimin?”    “What’re you doing?”   “Nothing,” you exhale, feeling comforted with him on the other line. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.”   He laughs boyishly and you smile to yourself, practically able to hear his grin.    Jimin sighs quietly, “Why does that make me feel happy?”   “Did you finish running errands with your dad? Where are you?”   “I’m always with you,” he quips playfully and you roll your eyes.    It’s a joke, but as you peek over your shoulder, unsettlement sticks in your stomach. It feels like you’re always being watched.   //   “Jimin.” You stare up at the popcorn ceiling of his room, eyes running over the pointed ridges and dips, and drawing constellations from your imagination. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”   He turns his head, having been folding his laundry on the floor. “What do you mean?”   “The other night, I was grabbing something for my dad at the convenient store and while I was walking home, it felt like….someone was watching me.”   “Was there?” he asks.   “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.”   “Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” Jimin comforts with a small smile and finishes folding his last shirt. He comes up on the bed and you make room for him to lay next to you. “Or maybe it’s your guardian angel protecting you.”   You scoff. “What guardian angel?”   “Me,” he giggles softly and reads your expression. “Would that be so bad?”   Your brows furrow and you go silent. Blood drains from your face and confusion makes your head dizzy. It’s outrageous to ask, but you do so— “Were you the one following me, Jimin?”   He hums, “Maybe.”   Instantly, you push your boyfriend’s hand away that was playing with your hair and you sit up. “I’m being serious.”   Jimin follows after you, getting up. “I don’t get why you’re so upset.”   “It’s weird! You’re stalking me!”   “I’m protecting you,” he corrects and his voice softens. “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. I see people on the news getting kidnapped all the time. I just…I don’t want you to be taken away or put in danger. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help.”   You press your palms against your forehead, not knowing where to even begin.   After a beat, your voice croaks, “How long have you been doing this for?”   Jimin shrugs. “A while.”   His intentions might come from a good place, but it makes you nauseous to think about how Jimin’s been following you. How he’s been tracing your steps, watching you from behind. And you didn’t even know.   You don’t want to ask what else he’s done.   “I’m not going to get hurt, Jimin. You don’t need to follow me like that.”   “But you don’t know when something might happen. No one knows. I just want to be there for you.”   Your thoughts are in a disarray, not sure how you should even reason with him. Shouldn’t it be common sense?   At your ongoing silence, Jimin reaches out to hug you. But you stand, slipping away from his arms.   “I think I need to go home.”   “Wait. Y/N.” Jimin’s agile and swift, capturing your wrist in his hand before you’ve grabbed your bag. He stops you in your tracks. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry!”   “I just need a moment by myself, okay?” You try to shake him off. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Please. Don’t leave me,” his voice drops into a trembling whisper and your head whips around. Your eyes meet his, teary and shaking. Jimin suddenly gets onto his knees, cradling your hand in both of his hands and pressing it to his nose as if he’s praying. He begs, “Don’t leave me.”   But his affectionate behaviour only serves to freak you out more. It’s more than bizarre and you quickly tear your hand back, pulling it to your chest and out of his grip. “You’re not being yourself, Jimin.”   You grab your bag, turning around and making it to the door—   “I love you!” he declares loudly, startling you. His sheer desperation radiates waves and you turn around with wide eyes. Jimin looks like he’s in the midst of a break down. “You’re mine! Is it so wrong to look after you like this? I did it because I love you. I love you, Y/N.”    You clutch your bag against your body and divert your vision away from the boy.   “Then...promise me you won’t do that again,” you murmur after a handful of uncomfortable seconds have passed, “I’m safe and fine. Secretly following me is excessive and it makes me…..uncomfortable.”   Jimin begrudgingly nods.   You slowly close the distance and hug him, allowing him to sniffle into your shoulder. He’s fine with letting you leave after the pair of you have made up. Yet, when you arrive home the next day, you swear you feel eyes on your backside.   It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong when you haven’t noticed before.   But once you lock the front door and make it to your room, you nimbly peek out the window.   You catch Jimin standing across the street, expressionless.   //   The situation isn’t mentioned again in fear of another dramatic confrontation, but it dwells. A disturbing discomfort weighs on your shoulders and every sweet call of your name on his lips is startling. You’re not sure why you’re like this, how you can go back to how it used to be, when a mere glance from Jimin had your heart soaring and the butterflies in your tummy tickling.   It feels like the rose filter of your eyes have rubbed off. And that you’ve found out the world is darker than the pink shades you previously saw it as.   You leave the bathroom, hands still a bit damp in spite of drying them—   And you flinch when you see dark strands, brown irises and rounded cheeks standing in the hallway, leaning against the lockers.    Jimin smiles. “You’re about to have lunch, right?”   You nod.   “I was thinking we could eat together today.”   “With your friends?”   “No. Just us.” As the two of you walk, Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders. It feels heavy instead of warm and comforting. It’s quiet too, until he breaks it. “Have you been avoiding me, Y/N?”   You shake your head.   “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be distant.” He lovingly presses his head to yours, nuzzling into your hair. “That’s not what a good girlfriend does.”   You swallow hard. The food ends up tasting like nothing.   This isn’t right. This isn’t the boy next door you fell in love with years ago. Obsessive, controlling, a crazed look in his eye, desperate enough to beg on his knees — this isn’t Jimin.   And you know the cause.    You know why and how this happened. But you can’t bear to acknowledge the truth. Even when you’ve been plunged so deep, you still want to savour this a little longer.    This impossibility. This dream that you’ve been granted.   Tears fill your eyes and you gaze at him. Your boyfriend notices your softened expression that searches his face and he smiles, lifting his hand to pat your head.    He prepares to walk off to class, but you take the leap while diverting your eyes.   “Jimin. A-After graduation…...we need to talk.”   His hand comes to curl around your wrist, firm enough that you can’t escape from. His voice drops an octave. “Are you breaking up with me?”   You shake your head. “I’m going to tell you the truth.”   Jimin’s brows furrow hard and he leans in close. “What’s the truth?”   “I’ll tell you afterwards. Just wait a little longer,” you plead, “be patient with me. Please. I love you.”   He stares and then nods.   Jimin embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to console the turmoil bubbling underneath your skin. No one’s around to witness the intimate moment, so you allow yourself to savour it. “I love you too. I won’t ever let you go.”   You nod against him. And you really hope what he says is true.   You hope he loves you for you and not because it’s the effect of the Love Pages.   //   “I’m home!” you call out and shut the door. But instead of hearing your dad’s greeting or your mother’s nagging, there’s a smooth timbre coming from the living room that’s all too familiar. It raises the goosebumps around your arms and you stalk the noise, feet sliding against the floor.   “—thinking of maybe renting an apartment—”   “Jimin?” You stop in your tracks, bewildered at the sight of him sitting on the couch with your parents across from him, mugs and half-empty glasses of water on the coffee table in between. “W-What are you doing here?”   “Oh, sit down! Jimin’s just discussing your plans with us,” your mom says with an endeared smile. “I didn’t know the two of you had so many arrangements for after you graduate, Y/N!”   “You should’ve kept us in the loop,” your dad states with a satisfied smile.   You swallow hard, approaching on weak knees and collapsing beside your boyfriend.   “I’m going to the same university as you are,” Jimin informs with a proud smile, hands knitted together and posture straight. He’s the picture perfect son-in-law, an image crafted to perfection.   “What? I mean….h-how do you even know what school I’m going to?”   “I saw the acceptance letter, silly.” Jimin smiles. “I can’t believe you hid it from me.”   “It was supposed to be a surprise!” you lie frantically, in a rush and spilling out the sentence before your brain can catch up. And once it does, you add in a laugh and quirk your head to the side. “I was waiting for you to get your round of acceptance letters.”   Jimin believes you and apologizes for ruining the surprise to which you brush off and tell him it’s okay, that it isn’t a big deal. The crisis is averted until he presents another idea—   “We should probably move in together. I’ll have to move out anyway and you will too.”   Your mouth opens but your mother exclaims, “That’s a great idea! Jimin’s a good boy who will protect you, Y/N. It’ll make me feel a lot better about you moving so far away.”   Jimin smiles.   He stays for dinner and your mom fusses about to make sure his stomach is stuffed with her home cooking while your dad reminisces and tells old stories. But you don’t hear anything or taste the food you’ve grown sick of. It’s bland and white noise buzzes against your eardrums—   “Y/N.” Jimin slips a hand on top of yours and you flinch before catching yourself. “Y/N. What’s wrong?”   “Nothing.” You realize your parents have left the table. “I’m fine.”   But you fail to notice how Jimin stops smiling when you turn away.   //   The long awaited day arrives on a brisk morning.   You’ve imagined it countless times before — when your head was laid on your desk, when your face was buried in your textbook, when your hand hurt from gripping your pencil. Graduation is the liberation day, another step to moving forward. After years of schooling, it marks another end and another beginning.    You always envisioned getting ready with Jihyo, looking at Jimin from faraway, being swept by the crowds and walking away without too many regrets.   In many ways, your fantasy is better and worse in reality.   It’s worse in the ways that Jihyo doesn’t look at you.    When you call her name, catch up to her, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge who you are. She doesn’t even say her last goodbyes. She doesn’t promise to keep in touch. It’s uncomfortable, for you and those around who witness. Your parents aren’t one of them, but they bombard you with questions when you tell them not to call out to her. Questions you beg them not to ask.   Jihyo doesn’t even give you the chance to admit your mistakes. So you let her be.   You’re not sure what you expected when she’s the master of holding grudges. All you know is that until the end, you did your part on trying to make amends. The rest is on her.   You hope she doesn’t regret it.   Nevertheless, there are silver linings.    Instead of having to peek at Jimin through the masses, of having him accidentally in the background of pictures, he’s by your side. Your crush is yours to call, yours to hold.   But a weight still dwells on the back of your mind. As time passes, you know it’s getting worse and worse. He’s becoming less like Jimin and more like a person you no longer recognize. He’s grown distant with his friends as he solely focuses on you — calling you, texting you, asking where you are, telling you how excited he is to move in with you and how you’ll finally be together.   And the more Jimin surrounds himself with you, the more sure you become.   You have to erase his name from the Love Pages. Even if you don’t want to.   There are consequences of the Pages. You’ve stared at the papers, the names, the rules enough to know. The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Love Pages will be. The less compatible a couple is, the more undesired consequences will arise.   And this is a consequence.   If Jimin’s worsening obsession is because of the Love Pages, then you need to stop it. You have to vanquish your doubts about him being with you before this future together begins.   You want him to love you for you.   “Y/N! What are you doing standing there? Move in!”   Hoseok is holding his phone to his face, camera open and ready to capture a picture of you and Jimin together. Irene stands beside him with an enormous grin, temporarily holding the bouquet of flowers they gifted to you. In the meanwhile, your parents and Jimin’s are chatting away.   “Okay! Perfect! Ready? One, two three!”   Your smile is stiff.    No matter how hard you try to maintain it, it twitches and never reaches your eyes.   When it’s done, Jimin holds your hand and pulls you to his family.    Jimin’s dad is friendly and open while his mom is more soft-spoken, but her features are reminiscent of Jimin's. You’re moved when she gives you a bouquet of peonies on top of the flowers Hoseok and Irene, saying how she just bought some from the stand.    “Congratulations, sweetheart.”   “Thank you.”    Jimin playfully pouts. “You didn’t get me any?”    His mom lightly scoffs and bats at him. “You don’t even like flowers.”   “I swear Y/N’s gonna be drowning in them by the end of this,” he sighs and everyone laughs.   Jimin seems so normal on the surface — no one knows what you do.   //   Your heart is thumping against your rib cage hard enough to bruise. It’s violent in your ear drums and you could clap to the rhythm of your pulse if you chose. But unfortunately, it isn’t from excitement. Not the feeling of rushing down a roller coaster or falling infatuated within seconds.   It’s different from the flutter of a first love or the anxiousness of a class presentation.   It’s dread. Hope. Remorse.   The day has come — time is up. You’ve finally managed to pull Jimin aside in the chaos of graduation celebrations, alone in the house with your parents over at your brother’s. There’s no room for disturbances, for interruptions, no way you can back down from the promise you made.   The two of you enter your room and you inhale a deep breath as you turn to face him.   Jimin’s brows are furrowed and he searches your expression. “What is it? What have you been wanting to tell me? You know I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.”   Wordlessly, you stride to your desk, pull the bottom drawer and reach below the file folders. Jimin is solemn as he watches you and you pull out what started this all—   A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’.    You brace yourself, grip tight enough to crinkle the cover. But then you hand it to Jimin.   He deserves to see it for himself.   Jimin takes it, curious and confused. “What is this?”   “You have a right to know what I did, Jimin,” you murmur quietly as he studies the notebook, flips it over, reads the rules, the warning. “I found this notebook by accident and I know I’m going to sound crazy, but it works. Whoever’s name that’s written in it will fall in love with the second written name. And….I-...I wrote your name back in February.”   Jimin’s frown deepens. He flips open the pages.   You’re too ashamed to look at him. Your downcast head avoids his glance.   “I’m sorry,” you snivel and repeat, “I’m sorry.”   You’re not sure how many times will be enough — you don’t think it’ll ever be enough.   “I….I’m the one who made you this way, Jimin. I liked you and I thought this was a joke and that it would be harmless, so I wrote your name in it and it ended up working...and I was so happy for the longest time,” your voice breaks and you realize your cheeks are wet. “But this isn’t you.”   He’s gone completely silent and you swallow hard, the need to explain compulsive.   “The way you’re acting, the person you are when you’re with me, it’s—...it’s a consequence of the Love Pages because we’re not compatible.” You’re sobbing and your heart aches as the words choke out of your closing throat. “And I tried to force something that isn’t compatible. So I’m so...so sorry. I made you lose yourself. I...I shouldn’t have ever done this. So I’m going to erase your name. I’m going to undo all of this, I promise.”   Jimin stares at you, lips in a straight line, eyes dimmed.   “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Y/N,” he starts and you muster the courage to look at him, “If what you say is true and if this notebook made me love you, then it’s the greatest thing to ever exist.”   “What?”   “I got the chance to love you, to be with you when I otherwise wouldn’t have, Y/N.” Jimin’s eyes catch the evening sun through the window and his irises glimmer as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why would I want to erase my name?”   You shake your head. “This isn’t right, Jimin.”   You’re not sure how he drew this conclusion on his own and you quickly approach, but then Jimin holds the notebook up. He extends his arm high above his head and out of your reach.   “Jimin,” you beg him, “snap out of it.”   “I love you, Y/N. Do you not love me?”   You try to reach up, get closer to the pink notebook held mockingly above you. But Jimin swiftly dodges your attempt and rounds towards the desk. “I love you, Jimin. Trust me. I really do love you. But it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have made our relationship artificial.”   “But I love you, Y/N,” he argues, becoming angry. “That’s not artificial!”   “If you love me then p-prove it. Let me erase the names!” You lurch forward, fingertips finally gripping onto the edges, but victory is short an inch.   Jimin grabs it hard enough to wrinkle the entire book and all its pages. He screams, “No! I won’t let you erase it! I love you and I won’t risk falling out of love with you!”   “Stop this, Jimin, please, I’m begging you, let go,” you desperately spew through gritted teeth and it’s all too familiar—   Pushing one another, trying to rip it from his grip, grabbing hold of edges, not letting go.   You’ve once stood in the same spot, having the same fight with Jihyo. And it’s an irony that makes your mouth bitter. She was right — and you wonder if she would laugh if she knew.   But the difference between then and now is that winning twice is harder than once.   Jimin’s backed up against your desk, nearly falling on it but his right hand comes to cushion himself. Though as it does, he feels the objects on your desk. In desperation, he grabs whatever he can to succeed, to perhaps distract you with. And he finds the lighter.    It takes one second.    One for Jimin’s strength to easily overpower yours. For him to yank it hard. For the smooth, pink cover and its white pages filled with endless names to slip from your fingertips.   For Jimin to scrape his thumb across the wheel of the lighter. And for you to hear the flickering flare, the rasping sparks, the quiet hum of the orange flame igniting.   Jimin brings the fire to the notebook.    He burns it, sealing the Love Pages together.   “No!”    Your last attempt to grab it is futile. You’re left to drop to your knees.    The blood-curdling shriek in your ears is unrecognizable until you realize it's yours.    Your pupils reflect the tangerine hue of the fire, the ash of the pages curling together, the soft pink that turns to black cinders fluttering down like Spring cherry blossoms in front of you.    Jimin’s smile is sweet. “The only way to remove my name is to erase it, right? Look, Y/N. This way, we can always be together.”   A tear drips from your lash down your cheeks. Your mouth opens but the sob doesn’t come from your throat already sore from yelling, screaming, apologizing. Instead, you cry like a marble statue shocked in time.   Jimin drops the burning corner of the Love Pages and the last of the binding melts into your carpet. He lowers himself and wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.   “You made me better,” he coos, “the Love pages made me better.”   Jimin sighs and caresses your head gently. “If this is what the issue was then I’m actually relieved. I thought you were going to try to break up with me. This obstacle means nothing to me, Y/N. It means nothing to us.”   He laughs and quickly reassures, “Soon enough, we’ll move away. No one will be able to find us. We can finally get away from….this. All these distractions. I can finally have you all for myself.”   He embraces you, arms wrapped around your body, propping his chin on top of your shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair.    It’s suffocating.   Your eyes dim.   Jimin’s trapped you. He’s caught you in his web.

You think about running.   Even when he follows you half across the country under the guise of continuing education, you think about running in the middle of the night while he’s asleep. You fantasize about slowly slinking the arm slung around your body off, moving his dead weight from you, or moving during the day when he’s forced to be away.   Before it’s too late. Before it worsens. You can still escape.   But somehow, Jimin always knows where you are.   He texts at night when you’re gone for too long. He calls when you’re at the grocery store to buy certain things he forgot. And you know for a fact, he would track you down and look for you until his last breath if you tried to flee.    But your hesitance is not only because of him. It’s your fault too.   A part of you always stops, with one foot out the door of the apartment and your bag slung over your shoulder in the middle of the night. You’re unable to abandon the faded image of the boy you used to long for. Unable to stop the guilt from overwhelming you that you began this. That you’re the one who reduced him to this crazed state from your own selfishness. And the only way to undo what’s happened to him is gone.   For just a moment, you wanted to be loved.    But what was an innocent wish morphed into a sin you blinded yourself too. All those months ago, had you done nothing, had you sat still, it would’ve never been like this.   And that haunts you.   You can’t bear to abandon Jimin, to try to get away, to call the police and attempt an escape. You can’t make him surrender his entire life, disappoint his family, lose his scholarship, mark his history with red. You can’t make him lose more of himself than what he’s already lost.   Jimin is both the benefit and the consequence you have to shoulder for the choices you made.    “Y/N! Come here!” Your mother rushes you in for a hug and pastes a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it back for your winter break! I missed you so much.”   Jimin shadows you, dragging in the suitcases and your mother smiles at him.    “Jimin! You too! Get in here!” She hugs him as he giggles and pats her back. The festive music plays in the background, your dad, brother and sister-in-law in the living room chatting away.   But you don’t enter the warm room. Rather, you ascend the darkened staircase.   The pitch black envelops your form until you reach for the knob of your old room. The door creaks as it swings open.   Your room is undisturbed, just like you left it except for the thin layer of dust sitting on the furniture. You remember when you sat at the desk, when you knew absolutely nothing.   Stiffly, you take two strides and sit back down on the creaking chair.   You flick the table lamp on and off, watching how it illuminates the space before darkening it again, listening to the click of the button. Then, your eyes travel to the discarded lighter.   You pick it up, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks.   A moment later, you put it down and instinctively from the habits you’ve built, you reach down to tug open the bottom drawer. As if you’ll see the Love Pages reappear. As if the notebook will sit right there as it did for so long. But instead, you notice a folded piece of lined paper tucked at the side.   You take it out, studying the page in a transfixed state.   The lines are a light blue, the white crisp and clean, but it’s completely torn on the side.   You remember.             “Erase Jimin’s name.”   Jihyo all that time ago, tried to convince you to erase his name. You should’ve listened to her then, salvaged your friendship while you still could. But what was left of her and that fight was this page torn out of the Love Pages.    You stare at it. The final evidence of such a notebook ever existing.    And then you’re grabbing the pen on your desk.   The ink bleeds on the page, letters feathering away, but you scratch it hard enough to hear, looping the names onto the paper, knowing it’s permanent—   L/N Y/N       Park Jimin   Jimin shuffles into the room and notices your backside cowering over the desk.   “Sweetheart, is there something wrong? Are you hiding something?”   You turn from the chair and he’s startled from your enormous grin and your brightened eyes. You shake your head and run to him, lurching forward.    “Jimin!”   You throw your arms around his neck and he stumbles back from the impact of your embrace.   “I love you so, so much.” It’s hard to express the feelings that have suddenly devastated you, so you tear yourself from him to kiss him. It’s an eager kiss, one where your mouths smack together, where you’re gripping his sweater, tasting him and trying to get as close as you can but to no avail.    All you’re aware of is the need to have Jimin by your side. You might die without him here.   When you pull away, he’s grinning, happy that you aren’t so distant anymore.   “You love me, right?”   “Of course, I do!” Jimin’s almost upset at the question. “Why would you even ask that?!”    You laugh joyfully, the sound chortling from your throat. Your chest is rising and falling, pupils blown wide as your massive grin makes your cheeks ache. “Then you’re mine.”   “That’s right. I’m yours.”   You embrace Jimin again, arms wrapped tightly around his warm torso as your nose digs into his shoulder and his own arms cage your body. It feels like you’ve been sewn to each other by your skin and the thought makes you even more giddy.   You love him so much, more than the whole world itself.

[helloalycia]

the real kara // kara danvers

summary: Kara gets affected by red kryptonite, but you don't know this, so to you, she just comes across really obnoxious and makes you uncomfortable

warning/s: i mean, i guess unwanted/uncomfortable advances?

author's note: this has been requested for a very long time now, so i hope it's okay! i’m still working on some wanda stuff, don’t worry x

masterlist | wattpad

Something was different with Kara Danvers today, and as I waited for my files to finish photocopying, I watched her from a distance, wondering what it could be.

Apart from the obvious, which was that she was wearing completely different clothing – a tight dress that was very different compared to her usual assortment of blouses and cardigans – she had a completely different aura about her.

One of the things I liked about her the most was her awkwardness, her humour and her clumsiness. She was adorable, the human embodiment of a puppy, but today she just... exuded confidence. Of course, that wasn't a bad thing, but it was just very unlike her.

As I returned my attention to the photocopier, I failed to hear the girl in question approaching me. Only when she appeared next to me did I notice her. The fact that she came out of nowhere made me jump, startled by both her presence and the fact that I had a giant crush on her so any attention from the blonde was near enough sending me into cardiac arrest.

"I did not mean to startle you," she said, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Though, you're cute when you're scared."

Heat creeped up my neck as I looked back down to the photocopier. Did she just say that? Never before had she obviously flirted with me – I didn't even think she liked me like that – so I didn't know what to do other than stay quiet.

"You know, I've been feeling your eyes on me all day," she noted, and I suddenly felt embarrassed as her blue eyes watched me with amusement. "C'mon, Y/N. You're really not gonna give me any attention now that I want it?"

Swallowing hard, I looked up to see her watching me with a knowing smile.

"I wasn't staring," I defended terribly. "Just looking around. You happened to be in my eye-line is all."

She grinned. "Really? Well, I'd quite like to be in your eye-line a lot more if you'd let me."

Taken aback, I raised my eyebrows. "Er– I– er–"

"Look, I actually came here to ask you something," she said, straightening up and moving to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder at the photocopies in my hand. "As fun as it is watching you make a mess of yourself, which I completely get by the way, I wanted to ask if you'd go on a date with me tonight."

My mouth went dry as her breath tickled my neck. Never in my year and a half of working alongside Kara had I seen her act so cocky and confident and certain. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

"Don't stay silent on me now, Y/N," she said, her voice sweet and sultry in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "I only want to give you a good time."

I widened my eyes a little, glancing her way. She chuckled when she saw my expression, her hand resting on the small of my back as she stepped beside me.

"Not like that," she said dismissively, before her eyes looked me up and down. "Unless you want to go down that route... in which case I'm all ears."

Cheeks flushed and heart racing, I collected my photocopies and straightened up, feigning some form of assertiveness as I met her teasing smile and dark eyes.

"I don't know what's gotten into you today, Kara, but it's not appropriate," I told her, thankfully not trembling under her piercing stare. "I– just– don't speak to me."

Without another word from either of us, I pushed past her and stormed off, partially angry and partially upset that she had treated me so... so... sleazily. Kara was sweet, she was kind, she was thoughtful. Whoever that was back there wasn't the Kara I fell for. And she certainly wasn't one I wanted to get to know.

—

The next day, it was as if a switch had been flicked and regular Kara was back. I didn't understand how or what had happened to her, but as soon as I saw her stumble out of the elevator that morning, coffees in hand and hair dishevelled from rushing, I knew whoever was present yesterday was gone. But that still didn't change the fact that she'd treated me so wrongly.

I was sat at my desk, working on an article at my computer, when I saw a smudge of pink in my peripheral. Turning to look who it was, I frowned when I saw Kara approaching me, eyes apologetic and hands fumbling by her side. She was wearing a pink jumper over her blouse – back in her usual outfits, clearly.

As I turned to look the other way, not in the mood to talk to her, she stepped forward quickly.

"Y/N, please hear me out," she said, but I rolled my eyes in response, hoping she'd get the hint. She didn't. "I'm so sorry for the things I said to you yesterday."

I clenched my jaw, but my hands stopped typing as I looked down at the keyboard patiently.

"I was having a very... off day yesterday. And I know that's no excuse for how I treated you, but I'm so sorry." She paused, swallowing hard, before shaking her head. "I'm so sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I'd never want that."

Unable to stop myself, I looked up to her. She seemed genuine, lips pulled into a frown and eyes tinged with sadness.

"If you wanted to ask me out, why would you go about it like that?" I asked, disappointedly. "In what world would I respond to something like that?"

She looked up, helpless, as she shrugged her shoulders. "I... I don't know. I just– I thought I would try something different. But I never meant for it to happen like that. You have to believe me."

I wanted to, but then the discomfort from yesterday's conversation returned and I was forced to look away from her.

"I did want to ask you out on a date though," she said quietly, hesitantly, as if afraid to say it at all. "Properly. If you want to go with me, that is."

Looking down to my desk, unintentionally coldly, I said, "If old Kara had asked me, then maybe I would have said... I'm not really sure I like this new Kara."

She paused, and I finally lifted my gaze to see she was nodding slowly, already taking a step back and avoiding my eyes.

"Right, yeah, of course," she spoke gently. "I understand." Forcing a small smile my way, she said, "Sorry, again. I'll, er, I'll see you around."

I watched her leave, noticing the way she mumbled to herself and clenched her fists as she did. I wondered if I'd made the right decision.

—

It was two days later when I got the bouquet at my desk after lunch. I wasn't expecting anything of the sorts, so of course, I eagerly found the card and read it in my head whilst ignoring my coworkers' curious stares.

Hey, Y/N.

Just wanted to apologise once again. And no, this isn't me asking you out. It's just a way to say sorry for acting like an idiot. I hope we can still remain friends. Or at least, I hope you don't hate me.

Kara x

Lowering the card, I looked at the bouquet of fresh flowers, heart aching in my chest. Over the past two days, the blonde-haired assistant had kept her distance from me, opting to stay away and avoid my presence, no doubt for my own comfort. Whenever I'd catch her gaze in the hallway or accidentally, she'd smile sadly, apologetically, before looking away as quickly as she could.

She was still her usual self, the usual self before the other day that is. This made me think that maybe she really was just having an off day. And now that she'd gotten me these flowers... I really wanted to go on a date with Kara. The real Kara and not the overly-confident, obnoxious Kara.

I left to find her as soon as I could. She was sat at her desk outside of Miss Grant's office, writing on her tablet and heavily focused in whatever task she was doing.

As I approached her, I took note of the way she chewed on her lip and furrowed her brows with concentration, smiling to myself because that was the Kara I had fallen for. The Kara I missed.

"Hey," I said when stopping by her desk.

She looked up, eyebrows raising with surprise. "Y/N. Hi! Hi. What can I–? Do you–? Hi."

"I got your flowers," I cut straight to the point, surprised at how certain I sounded compared to my usual introverted, shy self. "And the card."

She stood up, hands fumbling with nervousness once again. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm sorry if it was too far. I just wanted to make things right."

"I'll go on a date with you," I blurted, making her look up with wide eyes immediately. Breathing out slowly, I continued, "I'd like to go on a date with you. This you, though. Not the other you."

She nodded slowly, looking as if she was still letting my words sink in. Suddenly, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"I'd like that," she said softly. "Maybe we can pretend the other day never happened and start again?"

I returned her smile, nodding. "I'd like that."

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 6: grab my hand

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, sports au, college au

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, suggestive material, depictions of bullying

author���s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk I’ve made the executive decision to split up the last chapter since it was so long! Chapter 7, the finale, is done and will be posted in a few days <3 

Distance. Distance isn’t a word you would use to describe your relationship as he pulls you close at night. There’s no distance between the two of you as he lifts you up in the air during your nightly practice, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you dance across the empty rink.

No.

But if one were to look past your smile, to wipe away the condensation and see clearly what’s really going through your head when you were together with Mark, they might just name the dreadful feeling caving in your chest “distance”. 

Weeks have passed by since the hate message incident in Mark’s room. You tried to pull out the arrow, to convince yourself it wasn’t true and that you could ignore it just like all the rest. Alas, its words struck so deep, you still bleed. 

It poisons your thoughts. Your anxieties had already worsened  and you found yourself pulling away from his affections, afraid of the way the people walking past might somehow be talking about you.

Mark is starting to have his suspicions too, flashing you concerned looks when you uncomfortably shrug his arm off your shoulders in public. To you, it’s because you’re scared of the ‘hateful’ stares from others. To him, it’s a riddle he can’t solve. 

Because when it’s just the two of you, you let yourself relax. Like yin and yang, you fight an internal battle between how much you adore your boyfriend and how terrified you are that you aren’t good enough for him. When it’s just the two of you alone, you stop running and let him close the distance. 

Right now is one of those rare times - the familiar cold and scraping of ice below your skates bringing you peace. 

Mark glides easily beside you on the empty rink. He’s improved a lot, much to your astonishment. A golden boy through and through, he proves that there’s nothing he can’t do as he conquers each move you show him. 

Coach Tanya was surprised when you spoke with her after practice one day to notify her that you’d decided to pair with Mark Lee, captain of the hockey team, for the winter competition. Her thin eyebrows were perked in playful judgement when you started to defend yourself, ready to bring up Yuna’s accident and your financial situation before she stopped you: “You’re my best skater, y/n, and I look forward to your performance. Work hard, captivate your audience, and you just might win”.

Watching Mark skate on ahead of you in the borrowed skates he makes do with, you can’t wait to prove her right.

“What are we going to practice tonight, y/n?,” Mark asks as he arcs a wide circle around you. 

“I think you’ve gotten most of the basics down, so let’s go over the first part of the choreography,” you decide, grabbing onto his hand and giggling as he swings you around with him. 

“We have choreography?,” Mark lifts your arm up to twirl you around. He stops you as you face him, a laugh leaving your lips before he smothers them with kisses. His fingers tickle at the hem of your shirt, cold to your bare skin. You squeal, the sound carrying eerily over the spacious rink.

“I thought about it a lot in my head,” you explain as you shove him away gaily, “and I planned a bit during my own practices. It’s not done yet, but I think we can make it work”. 

“My talented, beautiful girl,” Mark murmurs, catching up to you and wrapping you in a back hug. You sigh blissfully, catching his warm lips in the crook of your neck.

“Mark, we seriously do have to practice. The festival’s only a month away,” you mumble. Some nights, let's just say, you spend more time in the locker room showers than you do on the ice. Using your best intuition, Mark’s lips travelling down towards your collarbones equals not a lot of practice time. And as much as you want for him to distract you all night long, you have to put your skate down and bring your boyfriend back to focus on the task at hand.

He huffs slightly against your skin, but releases you obediently.

“It’s gonna start like this,” you swiftly continue on, positioning your arm gracefully behind Mark’s head, “put your hand here,” you move his hand behind your back like you had planned, “and tilt your head to look at me,”. You tip his jaw slightly so he now peers down at you, face not inches from yours.

Dropping your gaze, you maintain what little self control you have and refrain from thinking about the locker room. It’s right by the rink exit. It’d be so easy to just...

“And then?,” Mark whispers, voice low, waiting patiently in the starting position. His hand is warm against your back, but it tugs at your heartstrings too.

“And then you’re gonna spin me out like we practiced before”. You help him perform the motion, unfurling yourself from his grip and gliding down to spin a slow circle around.

You bring him slowly through the rest of the introduction, Mark copying the moves diligently. 

“Then when I skate back to you, lift me up in the air like we did last time. You think you can do it?,” you question. The move you’re about to attempt is quite difficult - a little dangerous, even, since Mark is still a beginner - but you trust him to never hurt you.

“I can do it,” he confirms confidently, holding his arms out to receive you. 

“Okay, slow at first,” you nod, skating up to him at half-speed, grabbing onto his shoulders to help lift yourself above his head. Mark’s strong hands connect with your body, hoisting you up by your waist and balancing your body carefully above his. Muscles burning, you steady yourself as he twirls you slowly down.

“Alright, again,” you command.

The two of you repeat the move, steadily increasing the speed until the lift is smooth to your satisfaction. 

“I think that was pretty good,” you compliment, slightly out of breath. 

“Only because of you,” Mark endears, panting as he rests his chin atop your hair.

You sigh into his chest, the comforting feeling of his palpitating heartbeat washing over you.

If only it could always be like this.

“y/n?,” Mark mumbles. His tone was almost unsure, as if he was about to say something you don’t want to hear.

You hum an affirmation.

“Is everything okay these days?,” he asks the question you dread answering, “I know,” he continues before you can blurt out your default lie, “I know you keep saying that it is, but I feel like...you know you can tell me anything, right?”. 

Mark changes his phrasing midway, always taking your feelings into consideration. The all too familiar wave of guilt fills you up to your ears and you step slightly away. The stadium is dim, only lit by the natural light of the night sky, but you can see the concern that creases his face out in your peripheral vision. 

Your eyes focus instead on his jacket button. The second from the top has a few loose threads. 

And that’s just how you feel too; the button was made for this coat - it wants to hang on and be there forever. But how could it persist when the world wants to rip it off?

“It’s nothing,” you insist bitterly, your peaceful mood tainted gray. You were so close to successfully ending another day without confronting your demons. Why must Mark sense it so well?

Please stop, Mark. Please stop.

“I don’t think it’s nothing”. There’s nothing but kindness and concern in his voice, but when he reaches his hand out to you, fear overcomes your rationality and you jerk yourself away. 

“It is nothing!,” you exclaim, overly defensive. Half of your mind screams at you to halt, to filter your words before you say something you would regret, but the fuse was already lit and they come tumbling out anyway. “Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying,”.

A beat passes. Two. Five.

The sharp words tear through your mouth like knives, but even then you can’t stop to think. The energy in the rink changed so quickly, your head spins with shock. Turning away from the pained expression you don’t want to see, you skate quickly towards the exit. 

The ice is solid as ever, but why does it feel like you’re sinking?

Slamming the dormitory door shut behind you, your skating bag hits the floor before you do. Back pressed against the concrete wall, shaking sobs rack through your body as you sink down to your feet.

“y/n, what happened?,” Yuna peers over her computer screen. Your roommate had finally returned home a few days ago after her leg had finally healed enough to be discharged. 

You don’t answer, only burying your teary face into your arms as you cry harder.

The metallic creaking of crutches ensues as Yuna approaches your slumped form. A comforting embrace wraps around your shaking shoulders and the smell of her daisy perfume engulfs you. Her scarred hands stroke through your hair as she says nothing, waiting for your hiccups to calm down.

Guilt eats away at you like nitric acid. It mixes with your frustration, concocting a perfect poison that destroys your last thread of self-respect. 

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

The hurtful words don’t stop echoing in your head. What’s worse is, even though you didn’t stay to look, you can imagine the pain that crossed his face as you left without another word. You feel absolutely disgusting.

This is it. He’s finally going to be done with me.

Moments pass, Yuna sitting patiently by your side as you manage to find your voice. The dam you built around all your secret cracks, disintegrating to pieces as you let everything out to your best friend. 

You tell her about all of the hate messages you’ve been getting for months now - how you tried to ignore them, but some of them hit too way deep to forget. You tell her about the dilemma with Mark. He’s never done any wrong to you, ever, but you feel like you can’t keep forcing your problems on him. When you confided in your financial situation with him, he dropped everything to help you with the competition. You at least want to be able to handle one thing by yourself, to not be a burden, but it’s tearing you apart at the seams.

“I don’t deserve him and he’s going to realize it sooner or later,” you lament, gripping onto Yuna’s arms for dear life. Gasping sobs ensue, even as you hold your breath desperately to stop them. “He’s probably already realized it after what I said. Yuna, what do I do? I’m horrible”. Bitter tears choke at your throat.

“Oh honey,” Yuna coos into your hair, “you don’t even know, do you?”. 

Hiccupping uncontrollably, you take gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Your roommate understands, patting you gently on the back. 

“When you’re in a relationship with someone, the line between having enough communication and enough privacy is tough to figure out. Should you tell him about the lint between your toes? Maybe not. But talking to him about what’s bothering you is not only okay, it’s the right thing to do”.

Yuna lifts your chin up to face her. She looks empathetically down at your watery eyes as she takes her sleeve to dry the fallen tears. You press your eyelids shut, taking deep breaths punctuated by hiccups.

“And Mark,” she continues, “this guy, he looks at you like you’re all the stars in the sky and he’s the first astronomer. There’s not a thing you could tell him that would bother him, that’s what I think. And I think he’s dying to know how he can help you”. 

“Yuna I- you don’t understand. I just left him there after saying that. And I can’t even go on a date with him without feeling like people are talking about us,” you gasp out, “So the person sending the messages is right; I’m not good enough for him and he deserves someone way better than me. Maybe this is for the better”.

“y/n, don’t you see?,” Yuna snaps sternly. You open your eyes. They’re pink-red, matching the tip of your nose. “You’re letting other people ruin a once-in-a-lifetime relationship for you. Do you know what happens when you leave to go to the bathroom when we’re all hanging out? Mark’s looking towards the women’s room every two seconds, waiting for you to come back. This guy will manage to find a way to bring up your name at least twice in the five minutes you’re away. He likes you so much, anyone with a brain knows, so it’s not fair to him for you to tell him what, or who he deserves. At least let him make his own decision”.

The advice resonates in the air. Your hiccups calm to a sniffle as it sinks in. Yuna’s right, you’re being so selfish right now. Actually, you’ve been selfish this whole time. By forcing everything to yourself, you were creating an even bigger problem than any of the ones you were trying to hide.

“Yuna, what do I do now?,” you whisper, dread setting in.

“Girl, go talk to him. Now.”

You must look a mess, but you don’t bother fixing yourself up before you’re out the door.

Yuna sends you off with a ‘good luck!’ as you run down the corridor. Rushing down the metal stairs, your frenzied steps echo through the empty stairwell. They sound as desperate as you feel.

Oh god, please let it not be too late.

Once you reach the first floor entrance, you notice through the glass door that it is now, in fact, pouring rain. You were too distracted before to notice the heavy sounds of precipitation pelting down over you. 

Hands shaking to send Mark a message, you tell him you need to talk and you’re coming to him. You have no umbrella, but you push open the door anyways. The freezing rain soaks into your skin but you run on, unfazed.

You’re drenched and shivering by the time you stand panting in front of his building. Dying street lights illuminate against the dark, night sky. Waiting, the rain stings your eyes.

Through the blur, Mark’s figure finally appears at the door window. You can’t quite make out his face, but you know it’s him. The metal frame creaks as he pushes it open.

“y/n, what are you doing?”. His voice is raspy and as he comes closer into view. You notice that his eyes are pink-red, matching the tip of his nose.

“I have to talk to you,” you state, voice wavering as fresh tears mix with the ice-cold precipitation. Mustering up all the courage you have, you ready yourself to tell him everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go inside”. His voice is soft as he tugs at your drenched jacket sleeve. 

“No I-,” you choke, “I want to say it right now”.

The rain bears down hard as he lets go of your sleeve, allowing the frigid water to soak through his own self, waiting.

“You asked me if something was wrong,” your resolve comes crashing down, “and a lot has been wrong”. You squeeze your eyes shut to force out the unwanted raindrops. “The truth is, I’ve been getting hate messages every day since we started dating. Probably even before that. They say I’m a slut, or I’m fat and ugly. The details don’t matter”.

Mark takes a step towards you, the concerned expression creasing his brow in full view. 

“But then they say I’m not good enough for you,” your voice breaks as you admit the most painful part of all, blinking up at him, “and I can’t help but believe them”.

Futily, you swipe your drenched sleeve across your eyes to dry them.

“But even if I don’t deserve anything that you are, I need to tell you right now that I didn’t mean what I said today and I need to know if you still want me-”

Before the next raindrop could hit your skin, you feel yourself lifted up into a crushing hug.

There’s no sound except the heavy pitter patter of rain around you, but you can swear that there’s a symphony playing as he spins you around. His breath huffs against your neck. He’s crying too, you realize.

“y/n,” he croaks, body quivering with tears and from the cold, “I always want you. I-, you-”. Mark pulls you in extra tight as he struggles to find the right words.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” the words strain against Mark’s throat, “when I first saw you, I dropped my shit and ran away”.

You pull slightly away, looking up at him quizzically.

He shakes his head and continues, “You were so beautiful and even when I thought you hated me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time. I don’t want anyone else-”.

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he presses desperate kisses to your forehead. The rain bears down hard, lightning cracking in the sky, but you’re numb to everything else except the feeling of his lips pressing their love onto your skin. 

“You’re it for me,” his voice wavers. The vulnerable confession sends you into a fresh wave of emotions and you grip onto the back of his neck, crying into his shoulder. “You’re my heart. I knew it from the first moment I saw you”. 

Pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, he brushes back the wet strands of hair stuck to your face. You’re tempted to do the same, the once golden locks now almost black against his brow. 

“I love you”. 

The words leave his lips so suddenly, but they’ve been at the tip of his tongue for so long they roll off with ease. Your heart drums against your chest as time seems to stop. 

“You love me?” you choke, not believing your ears. His forehead is pressed against yours.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. More than anything. So much that I can’t breathe. I was so scared when you left today because I thought I did something wrong and I was thinking of what I said and I was sitting at my desk waiting for you to call because I wasn’t sure if I should call you first after what happened but then I almost did and then-,”

You shut him up with your lips. 

He sinks into your touch, responding naturally as you kiss him with everything you have.

Your mind spins with a mixture of relief and excitement as you let all of your worries go. It was never about other people, you realize, it was about your own insecurities and you were tearing yourself down. Without realizing it, you forgot to take into account the other half of the relationship: Mark’s opinion.

But now you know for sure, the opinion that actually matters, not the anonymous person who doesn’t know better. He loves you. It’s you he’s chosen. Out of all of the people he could pick from, Mark holds you in his arms, whispering soft ‘I love you’s’ between each kiss. Kisses to your lips. 

How could you ever want him to be with someone else when you’re the one he wants?

“I love you too,” you reply breathlessly into his open kiss. 

We deserve to be happy.

He doesn’t say anything, instead responding by tugging your waist closer to him, moving his jaw feverishly to indulge you deeper. Water drips down from his hair, splashing onto the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s go inside,” you gasp. The heat of the moment made you temporarily forget, but the icy November weather slowly started to soak past your jacket. You shiver as a strong gust of wind blows past your drenched body.

Mark leads you inside and you hustle up to his suite. His hand is warm against your wrist and you can’t wait for it to be tangled in your hair again.

Slamming open the door, Mark’s arms are around your waist before it could drift shut. You jump up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to his room, lips never leaving yours.

Jeno, unsuspecting, is lying on his bed with a book in his hands. If your eyes were open, you would flush at the incredulous look the poor boy shoots towards you. 

Meanwhile, your boyfriend works at your jacket zipper quickly, removing the wet outer layers as he sits you on his bed. 

Pausing a second, he turns his head to speak to his roommate. 

“Out”. 

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Mark’s jacket is on the floor and he’s lying you back, hovering over your body. The bedroom door rams shut as Jeno scurries out, not keen on seeing the scene progress any further. 

I’m sorry, man.

Your mental apology doesn’t last long as your wet hair soaks into the pillowcase beneath you. Mark kisses a line from your jaw down the side of your neck, raindrops wet on his tongue. The heat of his body contrasts the cold of yours and you want all of it against you. 

Rain-stained articles of clothing gather on the floor in no time.

“God, I love you so much,” Mark hushes against your ear. His gruff tone sends shivers down your back and you scratch your nails through the base of his hair. Your legs find their way around his hips again, pulling him down impossibly closer.

“I love you too,” you gasp back. 

He kisses between your collarbones, then looks back into your eyes, “do you want this?”. 

You nod frantically, your voice nothing short of breathless. “I want this”.

Peace you haven’t been able to feel for a long time blankets you as you lie on your lover’s chest, the two of you fresh out of breath. Such a revelation- him telling you he loved you was. And you want to savor the feeling forever.

It feels as if there was a thorn lodged in your heart, festering for months from your terrible, insecure thoughts and you’ve finally yanked it out. It feels like you can finally breathe.

Well, metaphorically. Physically, you may need a few minutes.

Mark’s hair sticks up in every direction, frizzy from being half-dried and from your constant tugging. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful to you in the dim, lamp-lit room. His chest rises and falls in your embrace and your fingers work to delicately trace the toned muscles of his torso. Mimicking your movements, he grazes his thumbs over the blue-purple masterpiece he’s painted across your neck and chest.

“Good?,” he asks nonchalantly.

You let out a soft snort at the sudden question.

Men will always be men.

“Great,” you admit. Heat creeps into your face as you recall the last hour or so. 

You guess there’s more benefits of hockey than just the uniform: the stamina and athleticism. 

His inflated ego fills the room palpably as he shifts in the messy bed, tugging the covers more over your tangled bodies. Noises arise from the kitchen, probably from his other suitemates. Embarrassment fills you to the brim when you realize that everyone probably heard the two of you. You were far too busy caught up in your passionate feelings to consider this, and now it’s come back to bite. 

Huffing shyly, you hide your growing blush into the nape of your boyfriend’s neck. Clanging of kitchenware resonates clearly through the room’s thin walls. You can’t help but distress over how clearly the others could hear you. And for such a long time too.

Oh my gosh. How will I ever face them?

Mark seems to sense your thoughts and lets out a light chuckle. 

“Babe, we’re fine. They all hookup all the time. And Yuna-,”

“I don’t need to know, thank you,” you interrupt sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight off the disturbing imagery.

Ten’s voice drifts through the suite and the sound of the front door shutting rings through them with unnerving vigor. You jolt at the bang, stiffly turning your neck towards the locked bedroom door, as if it would reveal any answers. Mark looks at you, the confused expression on his face making it apparent that he doesn’t know what is happening either. Slowly, he shifts up into a sitting position.

“You’re fucking kidding me - it was that bitch?”. The senior boy’s voice cuts through the nighttime quiet abruptly. Struggling to stitch together the context of the overheard conversation, you force your sore body to sit up as well. From how it sounds, it seems like Ten is on a phone call.

You look at your boyfriend for confirmation. With a nod, the two of you mutually agree to silently withdraw from the comfort of the covers and get dressed. 

“I don’t - listen to me, do they know for sure?,” Ten asks anxiously from the other side of the door.

With increasing concern, you hastily pick up your wet, discarded clothing. The cold, uncomfortable sensation makes you wince. Mark grabs your wrist, preventing you from putting on the still-soaked yoga pants. Shaking his head, he takes the garment and tosses it over his desk chair. From his dresser, he hands you a dry set of his own clothing. 

The gesture makes you smile and you gratefully pull on the warm sweats and hoodie. They’re obscenely large for your frame, but it’s a sure upgrade from your sad, rain-ruined outfit. Mark ruffles your hair, cheeks like strawberries as he kneels down without a word to roll up your pants. 

A small giggle escapes your lips. He’s just seen you naked, but of course it’s this that gets him blushing.

The happy expression is quickly wiped off your face as Ten continues abruptly, anger apparent in his voice. 

“Fucking hell! Hillary Choi? The bitch even admitted to it?”. The senior captain’s voice is nothing less than a yell now. Mark’s mouth hangs open in shock as he stares towards the door. The concern and shock shining in his eyes allude to how uncharacteristic his friend’s behavior is.

“Hillary Choi…,” you mutter under your breath, the name ever so familiar to your ears. 

“Wait she’s…,” Mark turns his gaze to you carefully, silently confirming his correct assumption.

“She’s the one who hates me…,” you confirm bitterly with a nod. 

Mark stands up, grabbing both your hands as you sit back on his bed. His expression is sad, perhaps also peppered with anger - something you’ve never seen in your boyfriend. Gently, he tugs you to your feet.

As you push the bedroom door open slightly, the common room comes into view. Ten’s figure is hunched over the kitchen sink, listening intently to the person on the other side of the phone speak. His breathing is rushed - you’ve only ever seen him this mad the day Yuna entered the hospital. 

Then it all makes sense.

Opening the door fully, you reveal Jeno and Haechan sitting on the common room couch. You make eye contact with them as you and Mark stand at the doorway, listening. Their expressions tell that they’re equally as concerned as you.

Mark’s hand in yours, you tiptoe your way to join the two friends on the sofa. 

“The fucking psycho bitch,” Ten spits. His hands run furiously through his raven hair as he begins pacing around. The senior sees all of you gathered together, but makes no move to acknowledge any of you other than a hard stare.

The tension is suffocating. Everyone wants to say something, but the waters seem too rough to test. Anxious glances are exchanged, but not a word leaves any of your mouths as Ten continues pacing around, the other speaker on the phone relaying more information. You conclude to wait until the call is over before you try to ask.

“Okay so she’s at the police station right now? ”.

Mark’s hand squeezes yours in silent shock. 

“Okay… fuck,” Ten rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “alright okay, thank you, officer. I- yeah I’m okay, thank you. Tell Yuna I’m on my way now”. 

A moment of silence suspends heavily over the air as he hangs up the call. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes in relief as Haechan clears his throat awkwardly and takes one for the team.

“Uh…,” the sophomore calculates for a bit, eyeing the enraged senior carefully, “Ten, what’s going on?”.

For the first time ever, it seems, the mischievous boy’s voice rid itself of its usual snide tone, replaced by refreshing sincerity. 

Ten sets down his hand, revealing tears building up in his previously covered eyes. Jeno doesn’t waste a second, getting off the couch without a word and wrapping his arms around his crying friend. 

You hesitate before asking, “It’s Yuna’s case?”. Keeping your voice as steady as possible, you hope you’ve succeeded in masking your growing fear.

Ten sniffs, patting Jeno’s back, prompting the younger to let go. Wiping away the stray tears, he nods. Everyone waits patiently as the distraught senior calms himself down with deep breaths.

“They caught the person who tried to kill her- or is it people? I don’t even know. And yes - they tried to kill her,” Ten rubs a stressed finger between his brow, “It was Hillary Choi, some junior girl who’s obsessed with Mark - she’s in our fanclub or whatever. They said she confessed it was all part of a plan? I don’t- I don’t know,” his voice breaks off as he tugs at his hair before heading over to grab his keys. 

“Wait, I don’t understand. If she’s obsessed with me why would she go try to hurt Yuna?,” Mark’s voice rings with alarm. A sinking feeling of dread sits in your stomach like a block of cement.

“It’s-,” Ten huffs into his hands, “let’s go to the station first and the bitch can tell you herself, she’s there apparently. Yuna is too. I don’t want to keep Yuna waiting there alone any longer so let’s go”.

The drive is silent, save the rumbling of the pavement below the car’s tires. Mark’s hand grips yours like a vice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, it kind of keeps you grounded as your anxiety goes through the roof. You’re no Sherlock, but hearing news that a girl who’s obsessed with your boyfriend (as has been sending you hate messages for months, no less) tried to kill your best friend, almost succeeding, bodes terribly for you. 

It had stopped raining a while ago and the five of you hurry your way through the fresh puddles dotting the police station lot. 

“Yuna?,” Ten calls out as the glass doors slide open. 

“Here,” a weak reply voices from behind a partition. 

Rushing over, you see that Yuna’s usual perfect composition is instead worn-down: her platinum blonde hair falls limply down her shoulders and her face is gaunt with distress. 

You had just seen her a few hours ago and she was even the one comforting you then. But now it’s your turn as you carefully kneel down beside her chair and pull her instinctively into a hug. 

“Officer, can you please tell us what’s going on?,” Mark stops a nearby woman in uniform. 

“You’re all friends of Ms. Kim?,” she inquires, continuing as a chorus of confirmations fills the room, “Okay, just a second”.

The woman appears visibly tired, probably pulled out of bed at an ungodly hour to cover this shift. Taking a long sip of her coffee, the white curls of steam prance around the air as you itch for answers. Setting the hot beverage down on the desk beside her, she straightens her badge. ‘Detective Jeong’, it reads.

“We have a confession,” Jeong relays finally, “earlier today- or yesterday, I should say- we received a call from our traffic security team detailing that they spotted the same model of car as the one thought to be involved with the accident on September 15th the uh-,” she stops to check her clipboard, “black 2018 Audi A4. We issued a warrant to interrogate the driver as quickly as possible, although not much was needed since the perpetrator, Miss Hillary Choi, confessed to the hit and run almost immediately”.

You hug Yuna tighter, Ten embracing from her other side. 

“You have the confession, did she say why?,” Jeno asks sternly.

“This is where it gets slightly more complicated and I want to ask, is a Miss y/n here?”.

The mention of your name makes you perk up, surprised. 

“That’s me,” you stand up slowly, “why?”.

Mark places a hand at the small of your back in concern. 

“y/n…,” Yuna sobs softly, gripping your arm. A thousand thoughts run through your head as your struggle to understand what is happening. 

“Yes?,” you brush the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“I want her to say it,” Yuna directs, speaking to the detective now. 

“Now we do have Miss Choi in our custody right now, but you’ll have to move back into the interrogation room if you wish to speak with her, for safety reasons”.

You nod, helping Yuna onto her crutches as everyone moves towards the back of the station. It feels as if you’re dreaming, that reality has separated itself into a different plane than the one you’re in and your existence has become but a construct. Your legs move on autopilot while your eyes are fixed ahead, but not really looking at anything in particular. 

The room you enter is dark and stuffy. Even with Haechan and Jeno opting to wait outside, it is far too crowded for the four of you. The room is divided into two; the other side is fully visible but unreachable due to a large plexiglass window in between. It’s eerily isolating. Yuna is ushered onto the only fold-up chair on your side of the room.

As the late-night officers go to bring Hillary in, the apprehension in the air is thick enough to be spread on your breakfast toast. The only comfort that comes to you is Mark’s arms wrapped around your waist. It’s the only thing that you can make sense of right now.

The door on the opposite side slams open suddenly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Mark’s fingers curl protectively into your hoodie as Hillary enters.

It’s surreal. This woman - handcuffs and all - carries a plain, calm expression as she sits down casually in her own fold-up chair. You hadn’t seen her in a while, but her beady-eyed gaze is as intense as ever. The red streaks in her hair are outgrown, falling awkwardly around the bright orange of her jumpsuit. 

“What’s up?,” Hillary asks, tone cool as if she were not being held for attempted murder at the moment. Her dark eyes settle on you, the arms around your waist, then back to you. Hillary’s stoic face is unreadable, yet it sends chills down your spine like a thousand spiders.

“What’s up? You absolute psycho bitch-,” Ten rails, banging on the glass barrier with a clenched fist. He pulls back as the officer gives him a warning. Yuna pulls him back to calm him down.

Your eyes don’t leave hers. They’re a dark brown, almost black, and you find yourself sinking into them - pulled into them like they’re black holes of concentrated hatred.

Closing your eyes, you pull your mind back to yourself. 

For months on end, you’ve been the recipient of her constant torment. It not only affected your mental health, but almost cost you the relationship of a lifetime. This whole time, you’ve been afraid of her words, letting them eat away at your dignity from inside out until you were nearly gone. 

But if you had the weapon of confidence - if you had simply chosen to stand up and reply, to say ‘no, you’re wrong’, her arrows would have fallen limp to the ground and she couldn’t have hurt you. Hurt your friend.

You open your eyes, this time staring back hard. Hillary’s expression is unfazed, but you imagine she’s surprised at your change in mentality.

“Tell me everything,” you demand firmly. 

Hillary scoffs, as if the situation is amusing. 

“Fuck you, tell us everything,” Ten hisses.

Hillary rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only because she wouldn’t want me to be mean to you, Ten”. 

“Who?,” you ask rigidly.

“I’ll get to that, bitch,” she sneers.

“Hey, don’t call her that,” Mark warns.

The psychopath in orange laughs maniacally, though you can’t place your finger on what she finds funny. 

“Funny,” she gasps for breath, slapping her knees vigorously, “funny how now you talk to me!”. 

“She’s nuts,” Yuna states.

“The whole damn Planters factory,” you agree.

“You people wouldn’t know a thing!,” Hillary fires, pointing an accusing finger around the room. Her face is red from her laughing fit, almost as red as her disgruntled bangs. Eyes now glistening with rage, you press back into Mark’s embrace when her personality flips 180 degrees in under a second. “You don’t know anything!,” she screams, “You don’t know! You don’t know!”.

The four of you watch in shock as Hillary melts down, the guard coming up and restraining her to the chair. She’s thrashing around, chanting the phrase over and over again.

“You’ll never know how much I love you, Mark,” Hillary shrieks, smiling hauntingly as she’s forced back into the chair and cuffed to it, “and you’ll never know how much she loves you, Ten”. 

“What the fuck?,” Ten rightfully shouts.

“Tell us who!,” you raise your voice. 

“I’m getting there, b-,” she stops in the middle of the slur, glancing at your boyfriend. In the blink of an eye, her expression jumps from pure disdain to sickly sweet, “baby”. 

Anger flushes through your body. Wanting to provoke her a little, you turn your gaze to your boyfriend. Predictably, he immediately turns his full attention to you. A scrunch of his brow asks you if you’re okay. 

“Did you enjoy them?,” Hillary’s voice is ‘normal’ again as she asks the out-of-context question.

“What?,” Ten pries, unamused.

“Did you,” she points her finger directly at you, “enjoy my messages?”.

Oh boy, oh boy. I was waiting for you to ask that.

The words rush to your mouth, every comeback you’ve ever made manifesting into the pinnacle of all comebacks, “As a matter of fact, I did,” you smile brightly, “I especially enjoyed the one’s where you said Mark doesn’t love me and doesn’t want me. I like to think of the irony of it all when we’re sleeping together and he gives me these”. 

You tug down the collar of your hoodie (that’s actually his which makes it even better) to reveal the hickies blooming down your neck. “If only you could know how good it feels, but you’re undoubtedly alone”.

Yuna snickers beside you, but Mark’s signature laugh shamelessly fills the limited space around you. The mood of the room changes completely at your words, the seriousness dissipating like sugar in hot water. It’s so refreshing, the feeling of being in control of yourself. Hillary, the person you used to be so afraid of looks so small in her isolation. There’s nothing to her at all, now that you know to stand up for yourself. You’ve never felt so… powerful. 

In any other situation, you would have died in embarrassment from sharing personal information like that, but you’re on a roll. And it’s bitch ass Hillary we’re talking about here. Even Ten looks mildly impressed by your new attitude, a tiny smile quirked on his lips.

“You-,” Hillary pouts, “how could you, Mark, how could you do this to me? You and I both know we loved each other first. We still love each other”.

“I have literally no idea what you mean,” Mark emphasizes, moving his hands to grip your shoulders, “you need some serious help, man”.

“I’ll fucking kill you!,” she screams at you again. 

“No you won’t,” you chuckle, “you’re locked up! At this point it’s a little amusing.

“You wanna know what the plan was? Me and Seojung were gonna kill you both. I take the bitch that’s dating Ten and she takes the slut who took Mark from me. I got so close, following you, blondie, to the party, but you just had to live-”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Sick psycho oh my god”

“Yeah good luck doing that from prison, asshole”

The room erupts in replies that cut her off. 

“Alright, time’s up,” the guard announces. The door on your side of the room opens, a gust of cool air welcoming you as Detective Jeong appears to usher you out. Turning around to give Hillary one last word as the officer drags her back to her cell, you’re not surprised to meet her menacing eyes. 

“He loves me,” you state confidently, “and he always will. Enjoy hell”. 

With that, the door shuts behind her and the worst chapter of your life dots its last concluding period. It’s the last one that you’ll let someone else write for you. You’re more than ready to pick up the pen and turn the next page. Excitedly, you head out to your friends waiting on you outside.

“Don’t worry, we’ve monitored that whole conversation and everything will be used against her in court,” Jeong assures, “Miss y/n, you might remember Choi mentioned a ‘Seojung’ and we want to make sure you know that she has been detained and held at the Gangnam Police Station. We’re waiting on her statement, but if what Choi testified is true, we’re looking at life in prison for both parties”.

“Not death?,” Ten scoffs.

“Not death, no,” the detective shakes her head.

“So basically, they’re both insane. And they did all this because they thought Ten and Mark belonged to them,” Haechan follows slowly, having just been filled in.

“We gotta put an end to this fanclub shit. Why are our lives controlled by these freaks,” Jeno groans.

He’s right. He’s so right. The whole thing is disgusting, especially when none of the Lee’s ever asked for it to be formed. If it’s already gotten to the point where members are caught in homicidal attempts, there’s no way the Lovelees club can continue to exist.

The station is nearly empty now, almost all of the officers handling the case calling it a night and heading home. Not wanting to keep Detective Jeong any longer, the six of you head out to the car. It’s nearly four in the morning and the adrenaline is wearing off, exhaustion replacing it.

“Hey but y/n, you were so good in there,” Yuna smiles, bumping you with her shoulder as you walk through the parking lot. The night air is cold against your skin, filled with the scent of petrichor.

“Yeah, you,” Mark looks at you with doe eyes, arm slung around your shoulders.

Letting out a short laugh, you press your lips quickly to his cheek.

“And I’m assuming based on how this looks, the conversation went well?,” Yuna adds.

“Only thanks to you,” you appreciate, turning from your best friend to Mark, “I think we’re all good now”. 

Mark beams at you as Ten unlocks his car, bringing you in for an elated kiss.

Groans erupt from all around. 

“You’ve seriously been going at it all night, none of us have gotten any sleep,” Haechan whines loudly.

“Bruh,” says Jeno.

“Then get yourself a girlfriend, fatass, I don’t know what to say,” Mark retaliates.

You reluctantly pull away as everyone piles into the vehicle. Haechan, you don’t feel bad for. He could cry and pout all day and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Jeno, is a different story. 

Memories of earlier cause your fingers to curl up in cringe; the way he was minding his own business in his own room only to be caught in the middle of your… make-up methods. 

“Hey…,” you apologize as you cram into the seat next to him, “I’m uh- I’m sorry about earlier”.

“I don’t want to talk about it”. The blue-haired boy massages the crease between his brows, stressed. 

“Right okay,” you nod. 

“Not to ruin the mood, but are you okay y/n? I feel like we’re moving too fast past what you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I mean… I just want to make sure I’m not in the dark about your feelings again,” Mark asks softly.

Silence falls upon the car as the group awaits your answer. You look to the passenger seat, to Yuna, as Ten cruises down the city street. 

“I’ll never forgive her,” you finally admit, “either one of them. They can literally rot in hell for all I care. But for me, I’m okay. If anything, this whole thing has taught me a lot and I’ve grown a lot from it. Both of them are locked up, so I’m not scared anymore. Oddly, I feel really free”. 

Packed into a tiny car, cruising down the streets of Seoul, you admire the friends around you. You’re surrounded by love. Your best friend and the love of her life. Your soulmate and his two best friends (who have become like family to you). Back on campus, Hope and Lisa sleep away, unaware of the chaos of today. You can imagine the looks on their faces as Yuna and you fill them in. Irreplaceable, every one of them. 

Life is full of way too many amazing things for any number of crazy bitches to ruin. Just as your friends have become irreplaceable to you, you are irreplaceable to them too. It’s due time that you give some credit to yourself. 

I am truly confident. I am worthy. I am loved.

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[siempre-pedro]

Should I Tell Her?

Javier Peña x Reader 

Summary: Colleen is reveling in her new found confidence after Javi comments on her nails. She messed with the wrong woman after she starts giving “friendly” advice to you. 

A/N: Colleen babe I am so sorry I am doing this to you. You don’t deserve this “villain” card. I just had to do it. 

Word count: 2k 

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Kinda like back in high school when that cute senior boy would say hello to you once and you were hooked? Made you believe that he liked you? Yeah, that's how Colleen saw it. You were there the day Javi waltzed into your shared office with the woman and charmed her to get what he wanted. Friendly, but charming and oh boy was the poor woman hooked. You thought nothing of it originally, Javi flirted to get what he wanted regularly. 

"Y/N!" Colleen perks up when you walked into the office a few mornings after the encounter. A little too cheery for 8:30 in the morning, you offer up a polite smile and put your small white bag on your desk "Look, look, I got my nails done again," she announced pointing her hands down to show off the deep purple color of her manicure. 

"Cute, did you go to that place down the street?" You ask, taking your morning apple out of your bag. Colleen nods and cocks her head, her lips pouting. 

"I'm sure Javi will notice." Your eyebrows raise, almost surprised at her words. She was giddy and excited about the future interaction that they might face. You touch the cold apple to your lips, tapping it gently, was now the right time to tell her? Nah, it probably wasn't going to happen again. 

The sounds of loud chatter from the distance were making their way to the office, a conversation of having terrible Spanish made you laugh. Pena and Murphy entered the room, looking at each other with boyish smiles on their faces. "Morning guys, how can I help you?" Colleen asked over-enthusiastically making you roll her eyes. Javi places his hands down on her desk and looks at her paperwork. 

Taking a bite you watched her lean into him, God you wanted to choke. "I just wanted to say thanks for the id, it really helped," Javi thanked her graciously and tapped his knuckles on her desk. He stood up straight and started to walk off with his partner. The agent offered a quick good morning to you as he walked past your desk. 

You waved your hand at him nonchalantly and sat back in your brown leather chair, unamused. Colleen sighs and turns to you, sympathy etched on her face as she watched you eat. Your Y/E/C catches her gaze in your peripheral view and slowly start to turn your eyes towards her. 

Taking another bite of your apple she starts to speak "I'm sorry that happened, Y/N." 

"Sorry for what?" You ask confused in between chews. 

"Javi saw you with food in your mouth," she says, "I know you have a crush on him." 

Her words made you choke on your apple, roughly coughing into your elbow and putting the remainder of the fruit on your desk. "E-excuse me?" You ask in shock, your cheeks went red from the choking, not a blush, make no mistake! 

"I see how you look at him, Honey. Maybe next time don't have food in your mouth, I'm so glad I didn't." 

You were stunned by the audacity of your co-worker's passive-aggressiveness "I don't have a crush on Peña" you defend yourself, which was partly true. You didn't have to have a crush on him. 

Colleen crosses her legs and looks away from you, shrugging her shoulders and turning her attention to her computer. The audacity! Your mouth hung open as you watched her work. Maybe it was a good time to tell her. 

The first comment snowballed into an almost everyday occurrence. You went about your day and she wouldn't hesitate to make a comment about you. God forbid you had a small hole in your stocking...you didn't tell her why you did. For the most part, you were able to block it out, sometimes it was even laughable. You didn't need him to notice you, but the brunette was desperate for the agent's attention. 

12:30 rolled around a week later and you were starving, the golden-brown bagel sitting on your desk was calling your name, sitting there underneath the heat of your desk lamp. "Javi's coming don't eat that!" Colleen warns you as the two men walked in. 

You grimace and pick up the bagel, taking a large bite out of spite "Y/N can you bring me those papers, please?" Javi asks as he stops in front of your desk. Murphy stands behind him, his watchful eyes watching Colleen glaring at you. What the hell was going on? 

Swallowing, you nod "Yeah, they should almost be done printing. I'll be right there." You got up and made sure to take another bite of your snack, giving Colleen a scowl as you walk towards the printer,  "I need carbs, Colleen." 

"Does she know?" Murphy asks as you walk into their office, slapping the thick stack of reports onto Javi's desk. You shake your head and sit on the corner of your boyfriend's desk, your dress draping nicely over your knees. 

"Nope," you respond, a small amused smile forming on your lips. Javi stood in between you and his partner, arms crossed over his chest. He was confused as you two looked at each other in shared amusement. 

"You should tell her," Steve comments. 

"I will if her little...," you sigh deeply "comments get worse. I have to get back to work, I'll see you guys for dinner later." Hoping off the desk, Javi came up behind you and gently caught you by the bicep. You stopped walking and turned to him, unconsciously leaning into him. It was a habit.

"Is something wrong, Hermosa?" he asks in a hushed tone, he brought his face closer to yours, catching a whiff of the expensive cologne you bought him. 

"It's just Colleen, Javi. It's no big deal," you reassure him, the corners of your lips turning upwards into a kind smile. The man nods and lets you go, opening the door for you. 

What you said wasn't a lie, the words didn't bother you but they did make you hungrier. They didn't bother you until the next morning when you walked in wearing a new dress, it was a form-fitting dark blue dress and you felt really good, your self-confidence was thriving. 

You walked into the office with your head held high and Colleen looked at you with a big grin "Y/N! Oh my God, that dress! It's so cute," she comments. You smile at her and take a seat at your desk, turning on your computer. 

Colleen was silent, but she couldn't help but notice you in that dress, she sighs and stops typing. Her hands folded in her lap, looking towards you with a condescending look that you could just slap if you noticed her. 

"That's brave of you to wear something like that," she says with a smile, the fakeness dripping off every word.  You pause and look up from your screen, but never at her. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Yeah wearing something like that... I mean, you're brave with having that kind of shape." Your blood was boiling at this point, your jaw clenched so tight you were afraid of breaking it. "Javi's into a whole other woman, I think I fit his type... I think I'm going to ask him out." 

It was amazing how someone could sound cold and mean and then at the very end of the sentence twist her tone into mock kindness. That bitch. It was all fun and games until she mentioned Javier and her body type. You take your fingers off the keys and rise from your seat. Seething anger apparent on your features.  All fun and games until someone gets hurt. Ready to raise a fist to the woman, the sound of fast footsteps were becoming louder

"Y/N, I need your help in the evidence room, we got a lead on Escobar," Javi was quick, almost running past you as he spoke. The urgency couldn't be ignored. You simply shake your head at the women in front of you and take off after Javi. 

Following him into the room, you start looking at the back wall where most of the new evidence was stored "What are we looking for. Photos? Call records?" the agent didn't answer, he was too busy locking the door and shutting the blinds. 

"I need none of those things," he practically growls. He walks up behind you and places his large hands on your hips, spinning you around. "I've missed you, Mi Amor," his words are muffed, his lips attacking your neck. You let out a small breathy moan and look up at the ceiling. 

"Javi," you squeak, grabbing at his olive green shirt. You just weren't into it, normally you were ready for him to take you on the desk behind him but Colleen's words linger in your mind. 

Javier could feel how tense you were, he removes his lips with a small noise and looks up at you "Y/N, is something bothering you?" he asks, his deep brown eyes staring into yours. 

You could have easily said no and let him carry on but instead, you push past him and put your hands on your hips "I-it's just Colleen and her misplaced confidence," you groan. Picking up a stack of papers only to slam them back down in frustration, Javi crosses his arms and leans against the metal shelving. "I should have just told her we were together! But no! She had to go and have the audacity to say I wasn't your type and she was!" You were almost yelling. 

Javi looks down at the floor, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as he listens to you rant. He knows this is his fault, he shouldn't have given her the attention he did to get information. Fuck. He looks back up at you, now pacing back and forth in the small room as you ranted, God you looked amazing in the dress he bought you. Perfection is what he saw. 

He pushes himself off the wall and moves over to you, wrapping your figure in his embrace "Listen, Baby," he starts, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead mustache making your nose crinkle, "This is my fault, Y/N." 

"No, Javi...I should have said something about us," you admitted, shaking your head. The man pulls back and runs his hands down your tense bicep 

"Baby, you are my just my type...and so much more. There's no comparison." 

"Promise?" Your eyebrows knit together, eyes starting to fill with tears. He steps a little closer and places his hands on your sides, fingers hooking the fabric and slowly hiking the dress up. The new cold feeling on your thighs sent shivers through your body. 

"I promise," he purrs in your ear, "Why don't I clear off that desk and show you just how much my type you are, Hermosa." 

The next morning you sat at your desk, turtle neck top covering up the hickies from the night before. Turns out Javi wasn't done after their time in the evidence room. Colleen wasn't giving you any problems, the silence was music to your ears. 

Javier and Steve walked into the room, Javi's hands full with two coffee's and a pastry in a fancy bag barely handing on. "Colleen this is for you," Javi tells her cheerfully, handing her the basic white to-go cup. Colleen's face perked up and happily took it from him. 

The agent didn't say anything after she said thank you, except offered a polite smile before walking to your desk "Good morning, Mi Amor," he greets you lovingly, his voice raising when he says the pet name. The woman next you glancing over at you two. 

You stood up and smiled "Good morning, Javi." He holds out the more elaborate to go up and pastry "Is this from the place by your apartment?" you ask, looking at the little logo on the cup. 

"Yeah I know you like it there, I hope you like it." Javi leans in and you know what he's about to do. The kiss was probably too much for the workplace, the way a small about of his tongue could be seen entering your mouth. Colleen's eyes were about to bug out of her head! Her mouth opened wide and eyes furrowed in anger. 

Murphy coughed awkwardly and turned his head "We uh- should get to work, Jav," he warns. 

Javier pulls away with a satisfied smirk "Have a good day, Ladies." 

You watch them walk away, bringing the steaming hot cup of coffee to your lips, the smirk very present. You glance over at Colleen who was frozen with shock. The look alone wiped any thought of vengeance you had. You sat sipping your coffee happily, and she never spoke about the situation again. 

[thisismyhell]

Bodyguard (Part 2)

Summary: Reader works with the Avengers as a research Biologist, and receives a worrying text from a toxic ex boyfriend. Loki enlists himself in watching out for reader, and fluff ensues.

Words: 3235

Warnings: mentions of toxic ex / fluff / alcohol 

________________________

When you awoke from your restless sleep, you made your way into the kitchen that poured into the common area. From down the hall you could hear some sort of commotion, though it was hard to tell if it was based in anger or passion. As you rounded the corner, everyone abruptly became silent.

You went to relieve the tension, “morning…”.

Tony looked at you wide eyed. “Why didn’t you tell us! Not that we’re caught off guard of course, but it would have been good to know!”

“What are you talking about?”

Loki chimed in, his eyes gentle, “I may have mentioned to the team that you were having a problem with your ex. And they may have made the point that you shouldn’t feel unsafe on the compound.”

Ahh. So that was it.

“Listen, not that my ex is anyone’s business, but I think I’ll be fine. What were you even yelling about anyway? There’s nothing more to this than a text message”.

Bucky looked at you a tad surprised, “Doll, the guy said he’d meet you here on the compound. That doesn’t nauseate you at all?”

You thought about what he said, and the team could see you go from nonchalant about your situation to looking sick. “Oh fuck, you don’t think he’d actually try to get in here? I mean, we have security. And you’re the Avengers for god’s sake. He can’t just waltz in here as he pleases … can he?"

Loki made his way over to you, taking your hand and moving you to the couch where you both sat down. “Love, there is no realistic way for this man, or any man, to gain access to our property without us knowing about it. We were talking about maybe putting a system in place where someone is always with you, so that you do not have to repeat that uncertainty you had last night in the research building”.

You considered what your friend was saying, and looked up to see the rest of your friends and colleagues seeming more concerned than usual. It seemed a domestic interference warranted more creased eyebrows than an alien invasion.

“I hear what you’re saying. To be fair what scared me last night was you, Loki, but I appreciate the sentiment. Maybe you guys are right. But the last thing I want is for all my friends to see me as some helpless person who can’t defend themselves.”

“(Y/N), everyone in this room knows that you could kick our asses any day of the week. We just want to put your mind at ease while this issue passes”, Steve made a good point.

“I mean, it would be nice to have someone around during those late nights in the library. Maybe this could be useful. This might just help me get over some procrastination. Alright, I’m in. I’m not happy that this is how I’m getting more one on one time with my friends, but I’ll take it”.

The room was thankful, and you all embraced. What could go wrong?

~~~

“(Y/N)? ARE YOU SURE YOU NEED THIS BOOK FROM ALL THE WAY UP HERE?”

Bucky was getting on your last nerve. You weren’t sure what was so difficult for the man to understand. You told him that you need this book, somehow he knew where it physically was in the library, but didn’t listen to you when you clarified that there was also a free PDF online. It didn’t even register in Bucky’s brain what you had said, the man probably didn’t know what a PDF was. But there you were, staring up at him while he balanced at the very top of a 13 foot ladder. In his left hand was the book, and in the right, he was failing to hold the ladder.

~~~

“I’m going to need a new research partner. I broke this one” you explained to everyone while you all stood around Bucky watching Sam sign his cast.

You looked at Loki, who seemed to be stifling a laugh. “The Winter Soldier seems to have an issue with having arms. James, you only have 1 flesh arm, one. And you have broken it. What are the odds there exactly?”

“Not sure but I know the odds of me kicking your ass are getting higher every second we sit here”. Bucky turned to you, “Doll, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with that book. I know you had something like a PDF or whatever, but I also know you like the smell of books so I thought maybe I could get that one down for you. Guess not”.

You smiled at him, why did he know about that? You must have mentioned it without thought at some point. You glanced at Loki, who was looking uncomfortable. You sent him a questioning look, and he spoke.

“Darling, I think it would be best if I were to help you this time. I understand we were going in a circle to divvy up each others time, but I am enlisting myself as your next companion”. Hm. Well, you couldn’t complain. This was his idea anyhow, and he seems to want to prove himself, to you? To the team? You weren’t sure, but his attitude is coming off quite persistent.

“Sounds good to me. But I can’t wait around, I have a proposal I need to finish by midnight tonight and thanks to this broken arm, I’m about 7 pages behind schedule. Meet me in the library in a half hour. And bring snacks. I work until I’m done”.

“As you wish”. And with that you went back to the research building, leaving Loki with the rest.

“Well, you think you can handle that, Loki?” asked Sam.

“I always manage”.

~~

You went back to your office to gather some more paperwork and stationary before heading to the library. You looked in the bottom drawer of your desk looking for a book, when you found a bottle of red wine you forgot you had been saving. You had bought the bottle ages ago when your thesis was approved, and were saving it for after you submitted the finished paper. Since you made a big deal about finishing it by midnight now, you tucked it under your arm.

Entering the library you found Loki already sitting comfortably, with an array of snacks on the table in front of him. “You’re late”, he said with a smirk.

“You’re early”. You put down your stuff, and sat at your desk. He looked puzzled, glancing at the spot next to him. “Loki, I know you. If I even try to work beside you I know I will get next to nothing done. And don’t pout”. He smirked again, getting more comfortable. “As you wish”.

You crossed your legs, pushed up your glasses, and gained focus. You had 7 pages of information to concisely interpret. You could do this. You could totally do this super important task with an incredibly handsome and distracting audience. You looked over at him, and he looked back up at you, smiling. “Can you shut up? I’m trying to concentrate here”.

“(Y/N), I haven’t said a word”.

“I know, it’s just. I don’t know. I’m not use to working with others around.”

“What about Bucky?”

“That was different-“

“Why?”

“No – its not different its just, I’m just- I’m putting my headphones on”. You reached for them, but they weren’t on your desk. Dammit, where were they? You began to scramble, when in the corner of your eye you saw them. In Loki’s hand. You begrudgingly walked over, and he held out your headphones to you. You reached out for them, and at the last second he pulled his arm back. Causing you to fall on top of him.

“LOKI!”

“Pet, I apologize but you’re going to have to loosen up. You won’t be able to get any work done if you’re so distracted and uncomfortable”.

“I’m distracted because I have a friend here with me who just tricked me into tripping all over him”.

“I apologize. But is there anything I can do to help you focus?”

You could think of a couple things.

“I have an idea��.

“Anything, love”.

“Why don’t you put on my headphones, that way I won’t feel weird talking to myself while I work”.

“Sure, just tell me how they work”.

After teaching Loki how Bluetooth works, you began to relax and get some work done.

You walked over to get a handful of pretzels that he had brought for the two of you, remembering just how excited you were to pop open that bottle of wine you were keeping from him. If he knew you were holding out on him like this, there would be hell to pay.

Loki looked over at you, and noticed how well you were working. Usually you would notice him out of the corner of your eye and look over to smile at him, but it seemed like you were so deep in focus that you had tunnel vision for the remainder of your paper. You were talking to yourself, though he had no idea what about. He realized just how nice it was to watch someone work, you especially. You had a knack for blowing loose strands of hair from your face without much effort. Squeezing your nose to push your glasses back up so you didn’t have to stop typing or highlighting. He found you mesmerizing, and you seemed to be clueless to it. he didn’t mind. He got to watch you work without distracting you, and you got to finish your work without feeling uncomfortable. It was a win-win.

You were almost done your paper. Somehow, Loki brought a sense of calm to your efforts. Sitting pleasantly nearby, sort of as a guard for your peripheral. You were glad Bucky hadn’t worked out like this. You felt somewhat guilty that you had started this train off with someone other than Loki. Since it was his idea in the first place, and he was the one who was with you to calm you down the first time. But he was here now. And you were thankful.

“Loki?”

He looked over at you, “Yes, love?”

You reached under your desk to retrieve your wine and 2 glasses, ushering him over to you. His eyes went wide at the sight of wine, as they always did, and he gladly stepped over to you, leaning against your desk. “What is the occasion?”

What a stupid question. “Loki, thank you for being with me tonight,” you popped the bottle. “I had this saved for when I was finished paper,” you poured two glasses. “And I want to share it with you once I hit ‘submit’ on my computer”.

He smiled, “you’ve finished? Already?”

You looked at the clock. “Loki, its 11:30. We’ve been here for hours!”

He seemed surprised. He noticed how the time he had spent with you this evening went by like a blink. He was cherishing you paying this much attention to him since you had arrived hours earlier.

“I suppose we have. Submit you work darling, and we will cheers.”

You uploaded you work, and hit submit. You had finalized your paper, bringing an end to months of hard work and late nights. And now you were sharing the final moments of it with your friend. You hadn’t even had a sip of wine yet, but your cheeks were already flushed. And he seemed to notice.

You clinked your glasses, smiling at each other. You were so giddy that you were finally finished. You couldn’t help it, you wrapped your arms around Loki drinking him in after your wine. He smelled of cloves and leather, and you pressed your cheek onto his shoulder. He drank you in, subconsciously smelling your hair as he placed one hand on your neck to complete the embrace.

“Thank you, Loki, for sitting here with me. For everything.”

“Dove, I am always here with you, for you. You needn’t even ask.”

You both pulled away at the same time, looking into each others eyes. It seemed like time had stood still for just a quick moment, just for the two of you to enjoy. When suddenly,

BANG!

Loki immediately put himself in front of you, putting his drink down. You followed. “Loki, what was that?” “I’m not sure. Stay here and I will go look.”

You begrudgingly let him go, letting yourself sit down on the couch he had previously enjoyed. You were worried about what could be happening, but you were also royally pissed that the two of you had been interrupted right there and then. Really? Right now? A noise had to happen and scare the crap out of you right when something magical was about to happen? You centered yourself, and had a sip of your wine. Loki came back into the library, looking like he felt the exact same way that you did. “Nothing. No one is in this building besides us”. “Must have been a ghost” you laughed.

Loki sat beside you and draped his arm on the cushion behind you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing like you said, so I’m not worried. Thank you for going out to look”. He nodded, picking up his glass and clinking it with yours for the second time, “perhaps we were getting too comfortable”. You looked at him. What did he mean by that? He noticed your questioning look. “That being said, there is not a moment when I am not comfortable with you, (Y/N)”. You gave yourself a moment to feel quant in the silence that fell, but not for too long. Before you could second guess yourself, you leaned into him and gently kissed his cheek. You were too fast to notice, but he was about to lean into your kiss before you pulled away. He missed you immediately.

“So, you’ve finished-“ he said lightly.

“I guess I have, yeah”. You were both staring into each others eyes, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Would you stay here? With me? I- I don’t have anything else to do but, I thought I would have some sort of celebration.”

“Love, I won’t leave unless you make me.”

Good to know.

You both began to relax with more and more wine in your systems. You knew it wasn’t affecting him in the same way that it did you, but he seemed a lot more generous with his communication. He wasn’t holding back with you, not that he ever did. But any time you looked over his shoulder, suspicious of the possibility that another noise would happen, he would shift a little closer to you. You were looking past him for a longer moment than you perhaps intended, and he took your hand in his. The physical touch grounded you in a way that slightly surprised you. This man seemed to be full of surprises.

By now the bottle was empty, and you were almost sitting on top of the god. If you were to get any physically closer.. well that was exactly what you wanted. As you were speaking, a lock of your hair had fallen in your eyesight. Since your reflexes were a tad slower from the wine, it took you a second to register. Loki instead raised his hand to your face, and placed the lock of hair gently behind your ear. His hand lingered on your cheek, and you hoped he couldn’t feel how hot you felt. Your heart was beating pretty fast, and you were worried Loki could hear it, he was so close. You raised your hand to his forearm, rubbing your thumb on his sleeve. He took this as an okay, and started to lean forward, looking down at your lips.

The long day must have made you impatient by now, because you couldn’t wait a second longer. You leaned into him to cut the time in half, and pressed your lips to his. Loki’s eyes opened in surprise, but then drowsily closed once your mouth opened and he took advantage. You moved to sit on his lap and he gladly welcomed you, putting one hand behind your head tangled in your hair, while the other gently grasped your waist. The two of you were getting more and more heated when your phone buzzed, alarming you as you fell off Loki and onto the ground. You jumped back up in surprise to check your phone, just to see a confirmation email that they had received your paper.

Amazing.

Loki reached out to you and helped you stand up in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m alright”. You were both slightly panting, lips swollen and pupils huge. “Would you walk me home?”

Loki smiled and nodded, taking your hand in his as you left the research building. You could collect your things tomorrow.

The walk back to the main building passed in a blink as you crept into the elevator up to your rooms. You had a pretty good amount of floors between now and getting off, and you knew Tony would be hosting a movie night. Loki must have had the same instinct as you did, because as soon as the elevator doors closed, he pushed you against the wall, urging his leg between yours. You let out a small moan, and tugged his hair forward so you could have at least some control. He smirked down at you, and you were making out until the elevator doors dinged and swung open. You both straightened yourselves up, not wanting to explain yourselves to your friends. But, you had to walk past all of them in order to get to your rooms. Loki put his hand on the small of your back, bracing you for what was to possibly come.

As you entered the common area, everyone shouted a big hello. Thank god, they were as pissed drunk as you were hoping.

Nat waved the two of you over, “Soooo…..did you finish it?!”

You nodded and smiled, remembering how hard you had worked and how excited you were to actually be done with it.

“And Loki wasn’t toooooo distractingggg?” she added.

“No, not at all!”

Loki chimed in, “I managed to really help her relax-“, you cut him off with a swift stomp on his foot, shutting him up. Nat was too far gone to notice, thankfully.

You said your goodnights and the two of you walked down the hall, your room coming up first.

“Pet, I had a wonderful time with you this evening”, “me too, Loki”.

You turned around to let yourself in your room, when Loki grabbed the back of your neck, turning you around. He pushed you up against the wall with one hand around your waistt, while the other softly sat around your neck. He moved his hand to make you look up at him, and he drank you in. “You’re so well behaved, pet”. He gave you such a deep kiss that you thought your legs would give out. He pulled away, seeming drunk off his own actions. Loki looked down at you, taking his hands away. You let out a huff, wanting his hands all over you again. “Don’t pout, love. Be a good girl”. And with that he left.

[mandochlorian]

VISIONS OF BEN (Ben Solo x Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, the force has a way of connecting people. You see him in your peripheral view. You see him when you squint your eyes. And when you look at the night sky. And you see him in your dreams. But one day, you see him - really see him.

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

warning: angsty and sad 

It could almost feel real; his strong arms around you, holding you close to him, feeling his soft breathing as he sleeps. And if you were to turn around, looking at his face would almost look so vivid. You’d be able to feel him pulling you close against him. You’d smile and it you could almost imagine a thousand mornings where you could wake up the same way. Almost. 

Your heart breaks each time you wake. You’d open your eyes, filled with reluctance, and even though you weren’t really asleep, it’d feel like waking up to a nightmare. Lately, your nights were filled with very little solace. Your mind wouldn’t let you rest. So you’d lie awake, blanket tucked under your chin, eyes closed tightly, and your brain would make you suffer through images of a fictional life with him - a life so far from your grasp, a life from which you were both turned away. 

Now, Ben’s safety - much like Ben himself - is a mystery. His whereabouts? A well kept secret. But his heart, you knew it was filled with light; and it brought you some semblance of peace for the few hours you’d rest. That is, until you’d wake with the sinking realisation that anything could happen to him now. He has no way to hide his face, no lightsaber to defend himself, no one guarding his back. You wish, somehow, that you could be with him. You’d keep him safe, help him remember who he was - who he is. 

Sucking in a deep breath, the light streaming through your window had begun shining on your eyes. It served as a stark reminder of a wasted morning, and you begin feeling guilty. 

What would Ben think? Would he be disappointed in you, wallowing in despair, longing for him?  What if, all this time, he hasn’t thought of you once?  What if you truly are just a distant memory? A friend lost to the rise of Kylo Ren long ago?

The Base you’re stationed on - also a well kept secret - was no doubt already bustling with life. Though you’re not sure what for. Ben doesn’t want to be found. The First Order has crumbled. The heroes we once served have been laid to rest. It really does feel like there’s nothing left to fight for. Your only hope is that one day, whenever that day comes, Ben will return. But even as you rise from your warm bed, there’s a strange feeling within your heart - like some kind of absence. 

“Well, good morning sunshine!” 

Of course. You hold back a sigh, pressing a smile to your lips as you turn to the voice. “Poe.” You nod at him, watching as he jumps from his x-wing, helmet tucked under his arm. 

He looks you up and down, handing his helmet to a young recruit, “You missed-”

“-Briefing,” you finish his sentence with a cringe, “yeah I know. You mind catching me up?”

This time, the General is the one to let out a sigh. The look he gives you makes you want to return to the comfort of your warm bed, where no one gives you looks of disappointment or pity. “You know,” he begins, “I can’t keep catching you up every week because you miss the briefings. The position of a General is filled with many, many tasks. Important tasks.” 

“Is that why you took your x-wing for a joyride?” You lift your eyebrows, seeing him pause. When he doesn’t respond, you add, “General?”

Poe gives you a nod, almost as though he’s examining you, “You’re funny, you know that? It almost makes up for your tardiness.” He’s on the move now, gesturing you to follow him as he makes his way to the office, “You’re lucky this week isn’t busy, Y/L/N.”

“It’s never busy here,” you shoot back, seeing his face fall slightly, “Sorry. It’s just, you know, after everything happened... This whole place feels...” You cut yourself off, not wanting to look Poe in the eye or tell him the truth. 

He looks half devastated, half intrigued. The Resistance is everything for him. It’s his parents legacy and his own legacy. And what he does now defines him and his story for the rest of eternity. “What?” He urges you to continue, though you avoid his eyes.

“Useless.” You admit breathlessly, fixated on the ground. Useless. It all seems fucking pointless. If you dwell on it too long, you might burst into tears because what the fuck are you doing here when the person you love is stars-knows-where suffering, trying to come to terms with who he is?

“That’s not true,” the General takes a pause, seemingly forming the sentence in his head while staring down at you, “There are planets still struggling under the poverty the First Order left them in. There are Stormtroopers still being reunited with their families. These things don’t just fix themselves on their own. The Resistance are stronger than ever. We’re doing more than ever. Because we won,” a smile breaks onto his face, “The war is finally over.” 

“Yeah,” your answer is quick, “You’re right, Poe.” You admit to him, giving him a forced nod. All this is because of Kylo Ren, that fact is not lost on you. And it makes you wonder if Ben will ever feel good and light enough to come back home. Poe’s right. There’s so much work to be done, so many things that need fixing. Looking up at your leader, you take a prepared breath, “Where do I start?” 

It’s the end of the day now. The sun is beginning to set and the hangar bay is almost dead. You sit on top of your x-wing, just having finished working on it’s engine. Thoughts verging on empty, your eyes are glued to the horizon in front of you. The brilliant pale colours giving way to dim stars who wait for their turn to illuminate the evening sky. 

This planet is vast and wonderful but something is always missing. The air is cold but the sun is warm. The planet is vast and you eye a glinting star in the distance, low on the horizon and far, far away. From your peripheral, someone walks by and you turn to see Poe. “General,” you exclaim, looking down at him “Up here.”

“Oh-”

An alarm blares throughout the bay, nearly making you gasp. When you jump down from your ship, you feel like you can’t even breathe. Poe has quickly vanished, no doubt rushing to the computer systems to check on what the hell is going on. You look around, the empty hangar bay eerily quiet except for the blaring noise of the alarm... and a high-pitched squealing.

At once, your eyes are back on the horizon. You squint, seeing the distant flickering of light again. But this time, closer. You look for Poe but he’s still gone. Fuck. Shit. You let out a cynical chuckle knowing that if only you hadn’t missed briefing, you’d know the protocol. But shit this ship is heading to you and fast. Heart pounding, in a split second you run to your x-wing, seeing the ship coming into view now. It’s flying low and you just shut your door before the bottom of the strangers ship grazes the ground 500 feet before you, on the plain outside the hangar bay.

It’s going incredibly fast. If it were anywhere else, you’d get in your x-wing and shoot it down. Stars, it’s not stopping either. It’s closer now... and when you see it clearer, your heart sinks. With a loud screech, it scrapes its bottom side against the concrete, spinning uncontrollably and you brace yourself unsteadily. With a loud noise, it smashes the side of itself into your ship and you’re thrown back into your seat as your x-wing slides across the hangar bay floor.

The two ships spin for an uncontrollable and terrifying moment before abruptly coming to a stop. Instantly, your eyes are on the strangers ship. But it’s not... strange. Or unfamiliar. You recognise it. With your hand on your lightsaber, you rush to jump from your ship. The alarm still rings out, making your head ache even more. And as the smoke clears, you ignite your saber. The green saber reflects light against the smoke and glass of the ship, making it hard to truly see the person who steps out. “Come out! Don’t try anything!” You exclaim, eyes wide and unsure, lightsaber pointed up as you take a step away from the tall man.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, eyebrows screwed shut and tears come to your eyes immediately. That voice. It sends chills through your body. You take a breath, opening your eyes. Your hand shakes. Your vision is blurry with tears. As he steps out, your grasp against your saber goes limp and it turns off when it hits the floor. You only take a single moment to stare at him because the next thing either of you know, you’re gripping him tightly. 

Ben has tears brimming his eyes and he rests his chin on the top of your head, holding you close for the first time in so long. He can feel you shaking and he gently rubs his hands up and down your back, “I’m here. I’m here.” He whispers, to you, “I’m home.” His voice, meaning to calm you down, just sends a giant flutter to your chest.

“Hands up! Now!” Poe shouts. You don’t even get to have a good look at Ben because Poe has a blaster pointed at his chest. 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you narrow your eyes at the General, “What are you...” That’s when you notice, in Poe’s other hand, a pair of cuffs. Your face falls.

Poe clenches his jaw, tense and frustrated, “You should’ve stayed gone.” He admits. From standing behind you, Ben notices how long your hair has gotten. If he were in better circumstances, and his life wasn’t in immediate danger, he’d play with it. 

You almost laugh with how unfair this is, “Put your blaster down.” You tell Poe. He seems frozen in place because Poe doesn’t move, doesn’t even give you a second glance. “Do you see a mask here?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “Do you see an army of stormtroopers here?” Silence. He listens. "Poe, put your blaster down.” 

Poe gestures towards Ben and the two fighters beside him begin to walk towards Ben, that is until you utilise the force, igniting your lightsaber and bringing it to your own neck. Ben parts his lips, a small gasp escaping them as he watches you.

“No! Stop.” Poe shouts, his hands up as he stares at you with wide and incredulous eyes, “You’re really doing this? Y/N?"

Clenching your teeth, you take a deep, unsteady breath in, “I’m not losing him again.” You answer, heart aching like never before. Ben’s back. Finally. Between the ruins of Luke’s Jedi Temple and Ben’s disappearance after the battle of exegol, you were done hurting for the man. 

When Ben places a hand on your shoulder, you let out a small breath, tensing up at being touched by him again. Slowly, you turn to look up at him. He stands beside you, looking down at you with a painful expression. You just look up at him, noticing his long hair and slight facial hair. He’s so handsome. And he’s here. The scar on his face is gone. It is Ben. 

“I can’t let you leave.” Poe speaks up, using your distraction to fire his blaster. Your hand shakes as you hold the beam in place, a few centimetres from Ben’s chest. 

Frowning with despair, you shake your head at Poe. “I’m sorry.” You tell him, hand shaking as you shoot the beam back at him. It hits hit arm, causing him to shout in pain as he drops his blaster. With Poe now on the ground and your lightsaber by your side, you turn to Ben. “We have to go.” You tell him, running past him to the back of the hangar bay. He follows you, wherever you go. It’s a place where no one has been in months. No one but you. You know the Falcon is still here, every so often you’d come and make sure Poe hadn’t had it scrapped for parts. Sometimes, you’d make sure no one had stolen it. You always wondered if Ben would come back and take it, claiming it as his own. So you had continued to check up on it in case he had come and gone and you didn’t know. It’s still here. You marvel at it, craning your neck to look up at the giant thing. Ben takes a deep breath, not having seen the thing in ages let alone flown in it. 

Turning to look at Ben, you see his expression and he looks caught off guard. “We have to get out of here, “I-I know you just got here but...” You have no words. “W-Where do we go, Ben?” The question leaves him thinking, wondering. And the alarm that continues to blare throughout the base doesn’t help. 

“Anywhere. Nowhere.” Ben answers you, punching the control panel, “Let’s go nowhere.” The door hisses as it opens and you both rush in, closing it behind you, running down the hall and to the cockpit. The Falcon roars to life underneath Ben’s hands and expertly, he gets it off the ground. You try to ignore the thought of Poe, on the ground, writhing in pain. And you both try to ignore the sounds of blaster shots landing on the back of the Falcon as it lifts into the air, immediately hopping in and out of hyperspace.

You turn to Ben, seeing his concentration falter as a new landscape emerges before you. It’s a mountainous region, light and filled with sand dunes. Ben can’t help but let his gaze focus on the rising suns. Something inside of him feels at peace. It’s almost like he could cry. Something in him wants to grasp the ground, put his forehead against the burning sand, close his eyes. 

The Falcon makes a rough landing, slipping a little on the sand. It’s quiet. Neither you or Ben move a muscle, even when the ship has landed and turned off. “Is this a dream?” You ask him, staring at the plain before you.

Ben, turning to look at you, wonders the same thing, “I hope not.” Before you can even turn to look at him properly, Ben unbuckles himself, kneeling in front of your seat, hands on your cheeks. And he presses his lips to yours, slowly, gently, his eyes closed. You kiss him back, eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his rough lips on yours again. It’s slow and beautiful and filled with longing and missed moments. “I thought about you every day.” He mutters, eyebrows screwing together slightly. His hands hold your face so gently, as if you’ll crumble or fade away at any second. 

For the first time since he left, there’s no weight on your shoulders. You’re filled with relief. You can breathe. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you admit to him, closing your eyes for a moment as you press your forehead against his, “I missed you,” you sniff, tears escaping your eyes, “more than anything.” 

“I’m sorry for leaving.”

“No, no,” you mumble, pulling back to look him in his eyes, “I know you had to do it. For you. I understand that. I just... I didn’t know if you’d come back - if you’d even want to.”

Ben gives you a small and gentle smile when he looks into your eyes, “I came back for you,” he admits, eyes fluttering to your lips before pressing his mouth against yours for a moment. His lips brush yours when he whispers to you: “I’m home.”

Ben solo taglist: tveitjolraas bepo-is-sorry 

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader Hidden Among The Fairy Lights (Part 1 of 3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

*Just taking a small break from my Crisis of Infinite Wells reader insert series. Plus, I miss HR and I’m still baffled how they always dismiss him and Harry and all the Wells as if they mean nothing to the audiences. They mean just as much as Barry and Cisco and Iris. A reminder, the beginning dialogue is from the HR scene in 3x05.

Word Count: 4389

Part 2  Part 3

“You were named Entrepreneur of the Decade by “Tech Magazine”?” Cisco read off the monitor, arms folded as he maintained a look of doubt on his features. Iris sat on a chair; one leg crossed over the other as she rested her head against the palm of her hand. Barry stood right behind where his love sat, glancing from the screen back to the Wells doppelganger and crossed his arms like his best friend. Caitlin leaned against the main Cortex desk with both hands on her hips and a tired expression on her face. Wally hung back a bit on the other end of the main monitor desk. 

You were at the main desk, sitting back with your hands folded in your lap. With pursed lips, you would glance down at your fingers ever so often at this supposed trial. He lied to us, but so did Harry when he first came to Earth-1 and he didn’t turn out as bad. Just prickly at times and soft in others. When this meeting was called to confront HR, you had decided in your head that you’d want the full story from HR before judging his course of action to lie to you all.

“That's right,” HR confirm with a drumstick pointed at his entire resume, eyes avoiding your gaze. He had calmed his breathing, but when his eyes met yours, he felt the tension climb within himself. He hadn’t wanted you of all people to find out like this. If only my charade had gone on for a few more weeks, I would probably have entrusted my truth to you. You had been the one cutie on the Team to not look at him oddly, especially when he made minor errors during his charade. A voice at the back of his mind told him that you had probably already figured out that HR wasn’t who he proclaimed that he was, but then again, you hadn’t questioned him. So, he left it at that… until the team called for him to fess up.

“Is any of what's on here true?”

“All of it.” With a pocketed hand, HR waved a drumstick to the screen for emphasis. His electric blue eyes caught you looking off to the side. HR didn’t need to know what you were thinking to hazard a guess of what you thought of him right now. What everyone thought of him when they learned his truth.

“How? You can barely turn on a computer.” Barry quipped up, nodding his head towards a random computer.

“There are two parts to every idea. There is the inception and the execution. I provide the former.”

“So, you come up with the ideas?” Iris clarified while Barry kept a dubious look on his face directed at the dark-haired doppelganger.

“Yeah, I don't know how to implement them. I'm the idea man.”

“So, you didn't actually solve the cryptogram that we sent you?” Caitlin asked, knowing that she had already answered her own question.

“No, that was my partner at STAR Labs on my Earth. I'm the face of the company.” HR responded making a photograph gesture of his face before fiddling with his drumsticks once more. Caitlin gave him an incredulous look at his response. You moved your gaze up, taking a peek to the rest of the contents on the screen before looking back at HR. The drumstick fiddling had caught your attention more than once since his arrival here and you’re more than convinced that HR does it when he’s nervous. Especially when he’s been caught red-handed. “I'm more of the inspiration behind the company. Then I was exposed.” His tone had softened, glancing at you from the peripheral before dipping his head down. Your heart caught in your throat at his dejected body language. Iris and Barry locked gazes with each other before listening HR’s continuation. “Well, people thought that I was something that I... I guess I wasn't. Anyway, it... it kind of all fell apart for me.” HR let out a little breath, before continuing. Your heart fell a bit at the amount of hurt that had been laced with his voice. “But then I got your message. My partner brought me your message. I realized he's bringing me an opportunity to come to this Earth to write this book.” HR’s face gradually lit up as he finished, a true novelist articulating his emotions through his words and gestures.

“So many planets in the multiverse,” Cisco mused in disbelief to himself while everyone glanced to one another, “and we happen to pick the one Wells who's not a scientist.” You made eye contact with Caitlin, who shook her head while you did a subtle shrug of the shoulders.

“You're right. I wasn't completely honest with you- with all of you.” HR took a seat as he spoke, rolling a bit closer. HR let out a breath, swinging the drumstick around. He couldn’t look at you in fear of what he might find. “I feel badly about that. I regret that. But let me ask you a question, has there been none amongst you that has ever shaded the truth for what you believe to be the greater good?” He’s right, we all try to hide our demons, our own terrible truths from hurting others. Barry from telling Iris that he was the Flash, Cisco when he first found out he was a meta, and so on. I’m no different either.

“It sounds to me like you're a con man.” Wally interjected in the silence. Murmurs of agreement rang out through the members of Team Flash while you only raised a confused eyebrow at Wally’s conclusion. Then I guess we’re all con men? I mean, we’ve all kept the truth from each other before. You kept your comments to yourself as you watched the others and HR. You already had your verdict, setting your chin in the palm of your hand as you rested your elbow on the cool surface of the desk.

HR got up towards Cisco, readily defending himself, “Was I a con man when I showed San Francisco here how to track the beast using car alarms? Was I a con man when I showed him how to fashion a rope using carbon fiber?” You held in a snicker when he referred to Cisco as ‘San Francisco’. I guess that’s one thing we have in common with his Earth.

“I came up with those ideas!”

“You were prompted by my suggestions.”

“Oh?” Cisco shook his head slightly at HR.

“That is how ideas work! People, you need a muse! I can be your muse,” HR pointed to himself, hoping to any higher power that the Team would accept that role for him to at least do. You gave him a soft smile at his suggestion.

“What about stopping all the metas on your Earth?” Wally asked, gesturing to the doppelganger before taking a step forward. Barry and Wally exchanged looks before shaking their heads at one another as HR started speaking.

“More of an advisory role for me, but I was there. I remembered how we- you don’t think that's something? Let me present you with a scenario. You're confronted with something, a threat that you've never seen before. You don't know how to stop it. Who does?” He pointed his drumstick towards himself. The novelist needed them to reconsider whatever decision that they already had. To reconsider booting him off this Earth and to give him a chance. “That's value to you. Let me prove my worth to you. If I fail, I will pfft right back to my Earth, but if I succeed, I will have succeeded not just in redeeming myself but also… will have done some good with my life,” he quickly mumbled the latter part, feeling sheepishly embarrassed, maybe even humiliated by the last statement, but if this is the way to go for redemption then it was certainly worth trying for.

“You know, you're lucky we're pretty big on redemption and doing good here,” Barry spoke on behalf of the team, gesturing to you all with a hand, “so I think you can- I don't know stay for a few weeks, try to prove yourself, but if not, fyoo, back to your Earth.” You watched with a quizzical look as Caitlin left the room. Must be the exhaustion from today. I hope she’s alright.

“Thank you,” HR sighed in relief, clapping his hands together in thanks towards Barry. He couldn’t help the fact that his eyes took a quick glimpse of you. He told himself he wasn’t sure why anymore; he had been exposed as a fraud once more. You wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Simple as that.

“Hey,” Cisco had stopped HR with a pointed look and finger, “no more repackaging.”

“Word is bond.”

“That- just- no more of that.” Wally and Cisco started heading out from the Cortex.

“All right, HR,” Barry and Iris were the last pair to go, bidding their ‘goodnights’. You had gotten up with them, knowing there was nothing else left to say, but to go home for the night to rest up for any more of the new timeline metas. Walking halfway through the corridor towards the elevator and trailing behind the West-Allen Gold Standard, a thought stopped you. Maybe… he just needs someone to teach him- You weren’t able to finish the thought as your feet silently carried you back to the Cortex. There HR sat with his back towards you, a drumstick in hand and his other hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the screen that held his resume and qualifications. While he was given a chance, you knew that he would have to effectively and efficiently find a way to prove himself before his time ran out.

“Word is bond, that’s a cute saying,” you softly spoke out, leaning against the metal frame of the Cortex entrance. HR let out a little “ah!” at the suddenness of your voice, accidentally throwing one of his drumsticks backwards. It sailed back towards your general area. You giggled at the reaction, picking up the instrument piece and handing it over to him when he had turned around. HR had let out a word of relief with a hand over his heart when he realized it was you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“For a little birdy, you sure do know how to be as silent and sneaky as a snail.” His cheeks felt warm when he heard you giggle; a bright smile had graced your features when you approached him. HR hoped you wouldn’t notice.

“Don’t you mean a mouse?”

“Snails can be silent.”

“I know, but the saying is ‘silent as a mouse’.” You pulled up a chair to sit beside him. The now dimmed lights of the Cortex had eased your headaches. “I guess that’s just another comparison between our Earths.”

HR looked at you oddly, running his fingers over both drumsticks that he held in one hand, “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Hm? What would?”

“How- How I say words and phrases differently? Do things differently from the people here on Earth-1?”

“I just think that makes you really unique,” you shrugged your shoulders a bit, giving him a soft grin. HR felt the heat returning to his cheeks again and now spread up to his ears. No one has really called him unique, certainly not in a good way either.

“But the others think its peculiar, just too much.”

“Well, I think it’s cool that there’s some form of variation from our Earth’s. Give the others some time, they’ll get used to you, I promise.” You secretly prided yourself with the ability to give people of various backgrounds and characters the benefit of the doubt. Open-mindedness as well as kind acts can go a long way, after all.

A deep chuckle left HR’s lips and you felt something jump in your stomach. HR glanced up to the monitor before looking back at you. “I’m guessing you’re not here just to chatter-chitter, huh.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” You folded your hands together in your lap, intertwining you fingers as you crossed one leg over the other. Almost looking business-like. “I have a proposition for you, HR.”

“Oh really?” The novelist quirked an eyebrow at you, he sat back to match your body language as if the both of you were associates discussing a business transaction.

“Yes sir, but you have to keep this a secret between us, ok? Word is bond?”

A smile laced itself onto HR’s ruggedly handsome features at your iteration of his Earth’s phrase. You swore the room lit up a little bit at his smile. “Word is bond.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, choosing your words wisely before speaking up again. “… I also want something in return.”

“Naturally, an eye for an eye, but it’ll depend on the prize that you want. What’s your proposition, little birdy?”

“I want to help you realize your worth and value to the team. You know, find a way for you to be helpful with the time that you have here. And starting with teaching you the basics of turning on a computer.”

“At what cost?”

“Three questions.” You simply held up three fingers.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’d need to answer a total of three questions that I could have at any point of your stay here. No resisting and no shading of the truth. No avoidance, either. Just the honest to God truth.”

“…” HR remained silent, contemplating your proposition and the costs. Wondering your true intentions and if you would be the type of person to betray him. Like so many others have in my life. HR took one took at your smug-ish face before a sigh left his mouth. Your smile had twisted into a grin.

“Well?”

“Do you promise on your soul not to blackmail me?”

“Word is bond,” you repeated gingerly. HR reluctantly agreed with raspy voice, blue eyes holding some form of trust in you.

A cheeky laugh left your lips as HR relaxed a bit in his seat, sort of contemplating what he had just gotten himself into as he watched you stand up from your seat. You offered a hand to him, that grin on your face turning into a slightly mischievous one as your other hand had held your tablet close to your chest.

“Let’s get started.”

***

The next few weeks you would hang out with HR, teaching him the basics of scanning the city for metas, understanding the basics of how a computer works, and so on. He really had been putting in a lot of effort, asking to take notes which you thought was sweet, even if some of the others didn’t welcome it at the time. HR had gone to the extent of re-reading old meta case files that the team had stored and would go on coffee runs every morning just to make sure the team was awake for the next meta sent by Alchemy. You found out about the files one morning when you found him in his pre-caffeinated sleep state in the Cortex with the files littering the computer screens. You had gotten a spare blanket and draped it over him so he wouldn’t be cold.

It wasn’t until you heard some yelling and soft curse words being thrown around from within the Cortex, that your feet picked up their pace from where you were in the corridor. You tilted your head, standing at the door-frame as you can sense the frustration emitting from Cisco towards HR. Caitlin was rubbing her temples while Barry was just running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his irritation off his face.

“Good afternoon?” Your greeting was more in the form of a question as you knocked on the metal door-frame to alert the others of your attention. Barry and Caitlin had breathed a sigh of relief at your presence, sending you gracious smiles towards you. Cisco had shut his eyes, massaging his temples. “I brought homemade goods?” You held up the bag that had been filled with sugar cookies, sweet berry tarts, and brownies.” A small smile was on your face, glancing at everyone before setting the goods down. HR lowered his drumsticks and internally felt at ease that you had come at just the right time before Cisco’s berating would soon turn even nastier. With swift feet, the author left the room, probably going to make a new cup of coffee that he’s gotten so attached to.

“Finally, someone sensible around here,” Cisco grumbled to himself, making his way to where you placed the goods in hopes that delicate pastries from your hands would calm his spiked-up mood. “Please keep him out of the labs today,” the mechanical genius leaned into you, holding up a brownie.

“He’s just trying to help, Cisco,” You whispered back to Cisco, giving your friend a side-glance.

“I know, but we really have a lead on all these husks, and we don’t want him distracting us from that,” Cisco stated almost desperately. “Please, just this once.”

“You’re lucky that I’m a good friend.”

“Yes, I am. And,” Cisco pulled out a paper from his pocket, handing it over to you, “I have a list for you.” You gave him a quizzical look as you took the paper and unfolded it, to which Cisco spoke again. “We’re going to need a few items for the break room and from Star City, mainly Felicity.”

“Why can’t Barry speed over to get these?”

“Because CCPD, specifically Barry’s new partner, needs him to be on time whenever they call or else, he gets reported to Sighn. Again.” Caitlin spoke up, taking a sip from her cup of lemonade.

Barry sheepishly looked over at you, a tart half-eaten in his mouth as he waved at you with a cookie in hand. “Uh huh,” you rolled your eyes, not really liking doing errand work, but at least you get to see Felicity again, “just do me a favor, don’t touch my algorithms.”

“No promises. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes, San Francisco?”

“Don’t call me that.” He rolled his eyes. “Make sure you crazy kids don’t stay out for too long,” Cisco winked at you, hinting towards something he and Caitlin had confronted you about earlier that week. Barry looked confused as ever, mumbling out a huh ‘huh?’ with his mouth still full. The blood rushed to your cheeks before you flipped him off, earning a cheeky look from your friends who just smirked at your reaction. You left the room, throwing Cisco one more pointed look about your coding and algorithms before striding to the breakroom to find HR, who’s probably sulking with his heavily caffeinated cup of coffee.

***

“Hey HR,” you entered the breakroom, spotting the broad back of the dark-haired doppelganger, “why don’t you come run some errands with me?”

HR was silent for a moment; the only sound was the clinking of the coffeemaker as it began to hibernate once more. “Did they want me out of the labs today?” You heard the hurt in his voice as he finished brewing his perfect blend, turning around with a dejected expression. You nodded a bit as you looked down, taking a step closer towards him and resting a hand on his forearm. You squeezed it slightly, feeling incapable of lying to him about… anything really. His shoulders fell, shaking his head as he pulled away from your warm touch.

“Give them some time to cool off,” You spoke softly in a low tone. “In the meantime, we’ve got a few places to visit. And I’m definitely going to need a strong hand.”

HR chuckled a bit, holding his cup of java close to him. “I’m sure you can handle it on your own. You’re a strong, independent, and intelligent female.” His comments made the blood rush to your cheeks. You gently took a hold of his free hand, feeling stubbornness wash over you.

“Yes, but I want your help. I want you to come out with me today.” You pouted at him. The both of you stared at each other. “And I’m not going to take no for an answer.” You poked his shoulder as you stated that.

“…”

“…”

You smiled widely when he sighed in defeat, rolling his eyes slightly before setting his coffee down. You both knew his answer. HR couldn’t deny the amount of light that he saw twinkle in your eyes at how he gave in. He liked to think it was because he agreed to accompany you today, but… He pushed his thoughts aside as you giddily pulled him along as you grabbed one of his dark jackets that he had left on one of the couches. He hastily snatched up his drumsticks as well.

“Where are we going, little birdy?”

“We, my dear bookworm, are going to visit an old friend in Star City.”

***

After finishing up with Felicity in the Arrow Cave, you and HR bid her goodbye with the materials that Cisco had noted down for you, but not before she pulled you close and whispered “Go get’em tiger” in your ear, pushing you in HR’s general direction which caused you to stumble forward with pink cheeks. Said man looked confused at the exchange, you stuttered out that it was nothing. Felicity and HR had gotten along well enough, causing something to stir slightly inside you. But you shook those feelings away. Felicity sent Cisco a quick text message once the two of you left, feeling happy for her close friend, who sadly remains oblivious to the signs of love. HR seems like a nice enough guy, not as shady as Eobard Thawne. I just hope he doesn’t break her like all the other guys she’s been with before. Even Felicity had noticed the way HR had looked at you. The genius hacker pursed her lips and went back to monitoring the city. 

He does have to admit that leaving the labs today was a good change in scenery. HR didn’t feel as cooped up as he initially did. Leaving Star City, a thought came to you as you and HR entered downtown Central City. Cisco had also given you a grocery list to complete since him and a certain speedster were always running out of things to eat in the breakroom. I swear they have bottomless pits in their stomachs. A literal void of absolute emptiness that’ll never be satisfied. And how many freaking things do we need to buy??? HR and you had both agreed to drop off the tech pieces at the Labs for Cisco before completing the errand run. 

“HR?”

“Yes, little birdy?”

“Why do you always call me ‘little birdy’?”

“Is that the first question you wish to use?” He perked an eyebrow up at you. I feel like a Djinn about to grant three wishes to the one who released me from my lamp prison.

“… No.”

“Then I guess, my secrets shall remain in the depths of my being.” HR watched a pout form on your face, and he had to force himself to look away. Clearing his throat, HR asked, “Where to next?” HR made sure the leather backpack of tech Cisco needed was securely on his back.

“Apparently, we have to do the Team’s grocery shopping today,” you sighed in annoyance, running a hand through your locks. Checking the time on your phone, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I was hoping to at least have some time today to drop by CSMC.”

The CSMC? HR furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you do exactly?”

“Me? Well I’m a Computer Scientist, guess you figured out that part from my expertise with computers.” You laughed a little at yourself, not noticing the graying of the clouds. “Felicity’s two years my senior back in grad school, she taught me all the ropes in coding and hacking. When I finally graduated, we both had big dreams for the future, one of mine was to fund an establishing tutoring program to encourage more girls into careers involving computer science, robotics, and mathematics.” HR grinned at the notion, readjusting the strap of the backpack. “Felicity soon joined me in my endeavors with advocating for younger girls while pursuing her own and ever since then we’ve been visiting CSMC when we can.  Society is changing and people are beginning to understand that these fields aren’t just for men, but for all people of various backgrounds. Central City and Star City work in collaboration to keep the centers running.”

HR was a bit speechless, the capability of your thoughtfulness seemed to know no bounds. “I shouldn’t have expected any less from someone as intellectually gifted as you.”

You glanced up at the taller man, a slightly humorous look on your face, “HR, I’m not smart. I just try to work really hard. I finished school at the bottom of my class actually. Hell, Cisco catches my mistakes still. It’s a miracle that I even got hired at STAR Labs. I’m not perfect really.”

“But you’re good enough that you’re able to work wonders with Team Flash. Saving lives, disabling villainous security systems. You really are an incredible soul.” I can’t do any of that…

I bet you’re incredible too, you just don’t know it yet. You pursed your lips smiling up at him, one that he returned before nudging you with his elbow. You giggled and nudged him back before walking in silence once more. “I think I know what I want to ask for my first question.” HR quirked a pesky eyebrow at you, his smile turning into a wry smirk. He pocketed his hands as you both seemed to lose track of time.

“What was your life like back on Earth-19?”

HR felt his blood freeze in his veins at your question. HR had stopped, causing you to stop as you found yourselves a few blocks away from STAR Labs. *The truth would come out sooner or later. A haunting voice echoed at the back of his mind, mentally presenting his nighttime demons that revealed themselves in his dreams. All of it.

[chan-yolo]

Control

A/N Hi guys! This is another Baekhyun, and another requested from my lovely @byunfirstlady who i miss dearly! this request was made so so long ago, but I went on hiatus when finishing my degree, and now i’m finishing i’m slowly coming back.

I’ve twisted the ask a bit, but I hope you like it my love.

I just wanna say its unedited, and i apologise if it’s bad haha

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun / Reader

Genre: fluff? playful? i don’t know Lucifer!Baek Nerd!Baek

Warnings: implied smut? 

Word Count: 3769

Requested.

Oversleeping was something you were good at, very good at. And even though you knew that most morning’s you had to be up for lesson’s, you still pushed it to the last minute to leave, just for those few extra seconds in bed. Today was no different. Even though it was in fact your day off, you still had somewhere to be, a study date in fact, with none other than your boyfriend, the boyfriend you hadn’t seen in a couple of days. And you were late. Brilliant.

Rushing through campus, you weaved through people, trying to get to the library as fast as you could. Though today everyone wanted to dawdle, and if this was your 9am Shakespeare lecture, then yes, you wouldn’t mind. But you were going to see your beautifully nerdy boyfriend, and you were in a hurry.

You tried not to elbow people out of the way, your eyes scanning the crowded entrance of the library for your boyfriend, trying to spot his light brown hair in the crowd. Finally your eyes landed on him, leaning against the front entrance, his foot tapping away to whatever music was playing through his headphones.

Sneaking up behind him, you grabbed onto his arm, making him jump and clutch on to his chest, his expression forming one of shock. You giggled at him, your index finger looping into the belt loop of his worn-out jeans to pull you a little closer to him. When he had removed his headphones, you ruffled his hair smiling up at him.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You should be sorry about nearly killing me.” He pouted, making your smile widen.

“I’m sorry.” You pouted up at your boyfriend. He pulled you into a hug, his hands settling in their designated space on your hips to pull you further into him.

“It’s okay Jagiya, I’d die a million times if it was by your cuteness” Your boyfriend’s hand came up to pinch your cheek, smiling down at your disapproving face.

“Yah, Baekhyun! You’re too cheesy for this time in the morning.” Looking up at him you noticed how tired his eyes seemed behind his round glasses, the light shadow of sleep being casted beneath them. You could tell he’s been up again playing online with the campus gaming society he was so proud to be a part of. Resisting the urge to reprimand him, you pushed your face into his soft yellow jumper, snuggling your face into the material.

“I missed you.” You sighed out, voice being muffled by the material of his jumper. Above you, you heard him chuckle, his hand coming to stroke the top of your head adoringly.

“I missed you too my love.”

Meeting Baekhyun was far from exciting and adventurous, there were no parties, no coffee spilling’s, no enemies to lovers. The beginning of your love was so unfulfilling of your hopeless romantic heart you almost refused to pursue your interest of him, because how dare the world not give you a beginning of a love story that is swoon worthy right?  Baekhyun was not in any of your classes, you never even knew the kid, but a friend of yours shared a class with him, and she didn’t like him so why would you give him a second thought? Honestly you didn’t really interact with people outside your friendship group because… well that’s just got anxiety written all over it. But one day you were with your friend and he had come to pass her some group notes they needed to work on as a project, and well… you did always have a weakness for boys with cute smiles, and his might’ve been the cutest.

Though he never acknowledged you, and you had forgotten about the boy with the cute smile, until you met him again. The town you studied in always had a spring festival, one filled with street food and flowers, and even though it sounded romantic it really wasn’t, it actually meant you were stuck in humidity, surrounded by loads of tourists and locals, whilst your eyes were watery, red and puffy from the hay fever you were experiencing. How very romantic.

Your friends dragged you around as you complained about the heat, damning the weather for forecasting light showers, causing you to dress in a hoodie. It was right by a flower stand when you saw him again, giggling with two of his friends, one around the same height as him and one marginally taller. He spotted your group next to his own, sending out polite, yet giggly greeting to his classmate, each group bowing a greeting to each other, though as Baekhyun looked at you, his forehead scrunched into an expression you though was confusion, making you tilt your head at him, unfortunately the ha fever was also an enemy of his, and the scrunch of confusion was actually one of displeasure, as he let out a violent sneeze, sneezing directly onto you in horror of himself, you and your friendship group. But surprisingly because of that meeting Baekhyun seemed to turn up more in your life, charming his way in until you were the loved u couple you were today.

 * * *

The library was surprisingly busy for the morning. Normally students were too hungover from the night before to even consider stepping out of the house, but exam season called for them to crawl their way out in hopes they can find their way to a free computer to avoid the embarrassments if looking like meerkats seeking out places for their group to sit and study.

You and Baekhyun were sat in the back-right corner of the second first floor, laptops out with notes from your respective classes, trying to study the material you needed to pass. But you couldn’t help but think that you were the only one actually doing the studying. Whilst you were trying to memorise the stanza of a Blake poem you couldn’t seem to get down, you could feel a hard stare coming from the left of you, coincidentally from where your boyfriend was sat.

“Baek are you actually going to study? You have a test in four days.” Your eyes never left your poetry book, reading the lines over and over again.

“I am studying.” His voice quietly answered back, gaze never wavering from you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his lie.

“Oh yeah, because it totally looks like it.” You hit back sarcastically.

“I am. I’m studying every little feature of your face, so when we don’t see each other for a few days I have this image of you in my mind, it keeps me going when I don’t have you to study with.” You could feel your cheeks heat up with the blush that overtook your face. In your peripheral you could see some girls staring at the two of you, giggling at what your boyfriend had just said. Turning to your left, you took in your smiling boyfriend, messy hair and tired face, making you want to just take him home and cuddle with him all day.

“Yah, Baekhyun, stop being so sloppy, people are staring.” The boy next to you hummed, resting his head on a pile of books that had accumulated next to you, never once looking away from you.

“I just missed you, that’s all angel.” You blushed harder at the pet name, smiling down at your notes once again. You left him to look at you, accepting he wouldn’t be getting any work done anytime soon.

“Come over later?” Baekhyun asked, well metaphorically knowing you would always say yes to coming over to his place anytime of the day. You let your mouth twitch upwards with a smile, underlining a sentence, letting your gaze linger back to his own soft one that had mischief hidden so far in them you had to squint to see it if you didn’t know him.

Yes. The answer was always yes.

 ***

 Later that day, after you had reluctantly said goodbye to your boyfriend, you found yourself in a café with the friends you had made in the first year of you attending this university. You zoned out as everyone started talking about the gossip from their courses, absentmindedly sipping on the chai latte you decided to order to calm your stress levels. That was until your friends turned the conversation to you, specifically your relationship.

“So Y/N, how’s Baekhyun?” Your friend Carly sipped at her tea watching you. You simply hummed back nodding your head, not making eye contact with her, looking at your own cup.

“He’s good you know, busy with his work.”

“He always seems to be busy with something.” Your other friend Jen replied.

“What do you mean?” Looking up, your head tilted, looking over the three friends in front of you.

“Well, he always seems to be off playing those weird computer games, do you even go on dates?” You could tell Jen was judging your boyfriend, she always thought it was weird how much Baekhyun liked playing video games.

“Of course we do!”

“Babes, watching him play games and sitting in the library aren’t dates.” Carly countered.

“We don’t just study, and I like going to his when he plays games, we play together, it’s cute. Besides we don’t always have to be on top of each other, we can just be in each other’s company, doing separate things, I like that about us.” Stirring the liquid in your cup, you looked down at your cardigan covered hands, trying to defend your relationship once again.

“I just don’t understand why you’re with him… I think you should’ve said yes when Chanyeol asked you out, that boy is packing.” You rolled your eyes at Jen, tuning out on her gushing over your boyfriend’s tall classmate.

“You don’t know him like I do, he’s different to how you see him. All you have to do is give him a chance, for me.” You pleaded your two friends. Just as Jen was about to say something, Becca spoke up for the first time, clearly trying to avoid an argument.

“Guys just leave it alone, she can date who she wants.” Luckily that was enough for them, not wanting to carry on with degrading your boyfriend when they have more gossip, leaving you to sigh into your drink, knowing you were going to need more than one chai latte to get rid of the new round of stress.

 ***

 6pm you finished class, managing to break away from your class mate. 6:43pm you turned up outside Baekhyun’s apartment. Fishing the key out of your bag, you let yourself in, knowing from the little grunts of annoyance Baekhyun was gaming again. Smiling to yourself, you walked into the kitchen setting your bag down, in the other hand was a take-out bag filled with Baekhyun’s favourite Japanese dish, ready to surprise him, knowing he’s probably not eaten properly today.

Walking to his room, you smiled at him sat in his gaming chair, eyes fixated on the brightly lit screen inf front of him. Placing his food down on his desk, you straddled his lap, placing your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. You felt him place a chaste kiss on your head, moving his hands around you to reach his keyboard.

“Jagi, how was coffee with your friends?” Kissing your head once again, you groaned at your boyfriends’ question. “They still don’t like me huh?” He chuckled out at you, eyes never leaving his screen. Your hand moved up to play with the hair on the back of his head, sighing once again.

“They just don’t know you.” You grumbled. Baekhyun’s hands moved to your back, stroking patterns into your skin.

“I think they’d like me even less if they did.” Moving back you looked at your soft boyfriend, features highlighted by the blue glow from his game. You took his glasses off, placing them behind you, moving to stroke his long fringe from his forehead.

“I’ll make them understand.” Pouting, your eyes followed the movements of your fingertips, not noticing the amused gaze in Baekhyun’s eyes.

“I don’t think they’ll accept it sweetheart.” His hands moved to your hips, squeezing lightly.

“It’s okay, I don’t need it.” You shrugged. Smiling, Baekhyun picked you up, abandoning his game, laying you down on his unmade bed, probably from a nap he had when he came home. Straddling you, his fingertips moved to trace the outline of your lips, down your neck, just to the curve of your breasts, before moving back up to your neck, his hand brushing over the front before moving to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I love you y/n” His voice was sincere, his lips brushing your own as he moved down to place a teasing kiss on your lips, you moved to grasp his hair again as he nipped at your lips, his tongue joining your own in the longest kiss you had shared in a while. Your head spun, and your chest tightened. Pulling him closer you never wanted him to pull away. Though breathing was essential.  Pulling away, his eyes were dark staring into your own, his smile mischievous.

“Let’s go out tonight”.

 ***

 When you’d left Baekhyun’s about two hours later, after food, cuddles and maybe some more making out, you wandered into the house you shared with your course mate, leaving her a not saying you wouldn’t be back tonight before getting ready for the night. You stood in front of your wardrobe, hair and make up finished, looking at the new dress you’d had for a while, never knowing when to wear it. No one had ever seen you in something like that. The dress was short, a deep forest green colour, and tight. You knew the satin would hug your curves just the right way, but was it appropriate? You thought about Baekhyun, a smile adorning your face. It definitely was. The dress came to mid-thigh, a small slit on the right side exposed some of your thigh, you felt amazing.

Baekhyun turned up a minute before time, knocking on your door softly. Opening up, the air was knocked out of you. It never failed to surprise you how different he looked in the night. His blonde hair was slicked back, showing his undercut, his eye make-up was smoky with a hint of glitter. But what you couldn’t take your eyes off was the leather pants hugging his thighs. You looked at each other, both full of hunger. Knowing tonight you wouldn’t hold back, tonight Baekhyun had no reason to not be himself.

***

 The first few months of knowing Baekhyun, there was nothing in the way he acted that told you he was any different to any other guy in your university. Though as you got closer in your relationship, and more intimate, the change happened. Baekhyun started to become distant, he was acting weird, refusing to sleep at yours, or have you stay at his. He’s ditch on late night dates, choosing to stay in on his own. At first you thought it was his course and the video games, your friends always went back to this time in your relationship, using this as the reason why they didn’t like him. but confronting him one night, you found out exactly why he couldn’t be around you.

Knocking on his door, you knew he would be awake at midnight, he always was. You knocked until he opened the door. He was dishevelled, his hair pushed back, he didn’t look like the Baekhyun you were used to. Wearing a satin shirt tucked into jeans, this was completely different from his jumpers and soft blue jeans.

“Where are you going?” You assumed he was going out, you didn’t even know he owned these clothes. He rolled his eyes, turning around and moving to the glass of red wine on his counter.

“Nowhere.” You were taken aback by his harsh voice, but followed him nonetheless.

“Then did you just get back?” You watched as he swirled the wine around in his glass.

“Yes from seeing my father actually.” His eyes met yours briefly over his wine glass, they were darker than normal, but you couldn’t quite make out the meaning within them. Standing cautiously near the table, puzzled by his change in demeanour. “He called to talk about you actually.” His eyes never left you, looking over your face before scanning over your body, a large jumper and some pyjama pants covered you, his gaze came back up to meet your eyes.

“M-me? Why me?” Baekhyun placed his glass down, the red liquid gone from his glass.

“He says we shouldn’t see each other, it’s not why I’m here.”

“But I’m not disrupting your studies Baek, I- “His chuckle cut you off, his smirk making you forget the words you wanted to say.

“It’s not my studies he’s worried about darling.” H made his way around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The smell of him was intoxicating, something you’d never smelt before, making your gaze hazy. “He sent me here to look after the night.” Your head was filled with confusion as you felt an unnatural heat radiate from him, his eyes looking almost red as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“You’re dating Lucifer’s son darling.”

That night Baekhyun talked you through everything from his birth to his reason for being on this land. Telling you over and over again he was bad news, but you refused to believe that, knowing there was more to him than this other person. You’d seen it. You took Baekhyun’s face into your hands, not caring about anything he had told you.

“You’d never hurt me, I know it.” You assured him. That night you both shared your first I love you’s.

***

 The night took you to so many clubs you had never heard of before you’d met Baekhyun, but you’d by now they had become almost homely to you, getting to know the different characters that frequented them. Tonight though, your exploration of the bars and clubs were cut short By Baekhyun taking you somewhere new. You had ended up in an old house, it almost looked abandoned, though it was still filled with possessions, though the only inhabitants were the spiders.

You were hidden between bookcases, holding your breath hoping you wouldn’t be found. Your pulse quickened as you rounded the corner of the bookcase looking out for the demon, trying to sense him in the till air. You couldn’t help but feel like prey, as you hid away from Baekhyun. As you rounded the corner to another bookcase, you didn’t see the figure behind you, spinning you around and pinning you against the dusty books.

“Gotcha.” He whispered into your ear, biting down on your neck, marking your skin. You let out a whine of frustration, pushing him back. “Hey, don’t get whiny, it’s not my fault you suck at hide and seek.” He laughed at you.

“This is unfair, you’re using your devil powers.” You pushed his chest. His hand came up to push the satin material of your skirt further up your legs, an amused smile in his face.

“Well it’s not like I can turn them off, besides it’s hard not to know where you are when your pulse is beating so hard, and you smell so good.” His nose brushed your neck, his lips once again attaching to your collar bone. You let out a moan, fisting his shirt. He was swift in picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, one hand moving to your centre.

“You really want your friends to know who I am? Tell them this story.” He moved your panties to the side. You were in for a long night.

 ***

 A few days later you were back in school, back to your daily self. Baekhyun had been hanging out with his friends a bit more, which let you alone to actually study. Even though you missed him you were behind on your reading. Though it was as if he could sense you were caught up, as you were walking past the seminar room, you were pulled into one of the quiet rooms, being pulled into your cheeky boyfriend.

“Hello stranger.” Baekhyun’s head rested in the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss before inhaling your scent, a little something that had become a habit of his. “Do you know how good you smell?” Pulling him back, you left a kiss on his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip.

One of the abilities your boyfriend had was being able to transfer his thoughts to someone else, as well as reading thoughts, and he loved teasing you about what people were thinking. Today your friends had agreed to study with Baekhyun and his, (They all just wanted to look at Chanyeol), though even with him this close, it never stopped them from badmouthing him.

“He just looks so innocent, I’ve never seen him out, doesn’t it get boring?” Jen asked. You glared at her, wondering why you still hung out with her. That’s when he decided to make an appearance in your mind.

I’m guessing she knows nothing about our session in the book cases, or even the seminar room 20 minutes ago.

You widened your eyes at Baekhyun in warning, only receiving a smirk back.

Jagi if you could read her thoughts you’d be so jealous. She thinks I’m cute, she’s actually angry you’re the one sleeping with me. Oh! It’s not PG13 in here baby she wants to…

“I need to leave.” Abruptly you stood up, packing your things and making your way outside to Baekhyun’s car, it didn’t take long for him to meet you there.

“Why? Why do you have to keep reminding me that’s what she wants to do to you?” You huffed at him. Gripping your waist, his hand moved down to cup your ass.

“I like how you get when I tell you, so possessive, anyone would think you’re the devil on nights when you’re like that.” His eyes glowed red, and you knew tonight would be one of those nights, one where he didn’t hold back. “Besides, you should hear how Chanyeol thinks about you, obviously he doesn’t understand you’re mine, I hope you don’t have anything planned this weekend baby, because we’re going to hell and back.”

With Baekhyun it was all about control, but now you had lost all of it.

[mszegedy]

30 Days of Autism Acceptance 2020: Days 1-10

This is a list of questions by @autie-jake (full list here), where you’re supposed to answer one per day for every day of April. I learned about it a few days into April and intended to start doing it but I forgot, I guess, or maybe decided against it. But I wanna do it now, so here’s the first ten days really quick.

April 1: Introduce yourself. Talk about who you are as a person.

This is kind of a hard question for me. I think my younger sister (by 3¾ years) would say this, if she just made a new friend the same age as her and she asked about me:

“Well, she goes to college, but she’s graduating this semester. She does something with proteins, but honestly she should really be a linguist. I actually really hate discussing linguistics with her, because she gets so annoying and overbearing about it. I don’t understand why she’s doing whatever she is. She’s a pretty weird person. She has all sorts of problems with, like, depression and amnesia and stuff. Oh, but, she’s trans, so, like, that’s a thing, yeah. I don’t like talking about most things with her because she thinks she’s always right. And also, she’s kind of mean to our mom. I don’t know why she does that. But at the same time she’s, like, really sensitive, and will be offended by the stupidest things. Okay, this is making it sound like I don’t like her, but I do, okay? She’s my sister, of course I love her. We’ve bonded a lot. She’s moving to DC in October, so we’ll be able to hang out during the school year, and that’ll be really fun. I think I’m just a little fed up with her right now from having to live with her for a whole month.“

April 2: Post your red instead selfie today! Alternatively, you could talk about why you choose to go redinstead and what it means to you.

I don’t know what “redinstead” is. I googled it and it sounds like you wear differently-themed stuff from what’s recommended by Autism Speaks, to dunk on them. Like a lot of people, I’m stuck inside this April, so there’s no point in me wearing pride clothing, because nobody will see it. But I do disapprove of Autism Speaks, because they don’t treat autistic people like people, and they try to spread that ideology. If you trick them into thinking you’re a person first, they won’t change their mind; instead, they’ll say you’re not autistic. People defend them by recounting the problems that nonverbal autistic people face, as though nonverbal autistic people have an inherently worse neurotype than everyone else, and not just one that’s more difficult to accomodate for society, and as though that justifies the abuses levied against them by Autism Speaks. I could go into details, but I won’t, because it would be emotionally draining for me as a writer, and you as a reader.

Suffice to say, I love being autistic. It has inspired a lot of people to treat me very badly, and probably led to a degree of abuse and neglect in my childhood that resulted in dissociative identity disorder. But all of my autistic traits are things that I love about myself. I like how emotionally expressive my stims make me. I like how I’ve learned to dissect a lot of social stuff and I can explain it. I like how I can just dispense with all of that social stuff around autistic people. Hell, I think it gives the neurotypical people I hang out with some relief, too, when I’m straightforward and explicit all the time. I like how good I am at linguistics, and how I can use it as a way to relate to the world.

April 3: Talk about special interests. Do you have any? What are they? How long have you had them? What does it feel like to have special interests? What does having special interests mean to you? Talk about your past special interests

My special interests are unusually slow burns. I’ve had linguistics-related special interests for the past ten years. They’re peripherally useful for language learning, but mostly I’ve just accumulated academic knowledge. They’ve, however, also led me to reconnect with my Ugric heritage culture, which is very important to me. (It wouldn’t be important to me if language weren’t my primary way of relating to the world; paradox?)

I have a wide variety of other interests, but few of them are really “special”. As a kid, my special interest was marine life. Unfortunately, I haven’t retained much of that, although I do have the privilege of having a diver’s license, which I’ll use again someday when I pass better naked. I also briefly had a special interest in… building computers, or something. I didn’t have the money to make anything particularly powerful (not that I had anything at the time to use computational power for), but I did run some workshops for middle-schoolers.

I think maybe my interest as a kid in Homestuck was special? It ran pretty deep, anyway. It’s hard to say, when you can’t remember most of your life.

April 4: Do you consider your autism to be an important part of your identity?

Because we have DID (or something like it), we don’t have an identity in the traditional sense. We do have a system identity, but that’s built around our mutual goals and guidelines. However, we’d be very sad to lose our autistic traits. Also, it might mess with the standard of consistency we’ve established for ourselves; we might not be able to predict our future actions, because losing our autistic traits may interfere with our ability to follow the aforementioned goals and guidelines, which are what help keep us focused and consistent.

April 5: Talk about your living situation. Do you live with your parents? Do you live on your own? Have roommates? Etc. If you live on your own how hard was it to get used to?

Right now, I’m quarantining with my mom, my sister, and my brother (who is actually my sister’s boyfriend), at my mom’s house. The mess that’s accumulating in the house is slowly causing my mom more and more stress, I think. I’ve never really lived on my own. For a lot of college, I lived with roommates or housemates, but I don’t think I was very good at that. Also, my mom lived nearby, and I stayed at her place on the weekends. The closest I’ve come to living on my own is watching my mom’s house for up to a few weeks at a time, and that wasn’t sustainable. (To be fair, what kind of house has a lawn? When I get a house with a lawn in the future, I will make sure that it’s a wild lawn that I don’t have to mow.)

The third to last time that I house-sitted for my mom, I ended up getting hospitalized for self-harm. It took her a while to let me do it again after that. Although, not a very long while, I guess. That was at the end of last September.

April 6: Are you able to drive? If you can, was it hard for you to learn? If not, what alternatives do you use, if any

I’m not able to drive. Driving is scary and difficult for me. I went through the motions of learning it in high school, but my track was interrupted by a move across state lines (I lived in the US at the time), and I never recovered. I’ve failed the NJ written driver’s exam, which grants you a one-year permit with restrictions, a total of roughly ten times. I’ve never been this bad at a subject; it’s like I have the opposite of a special interest in driving. A special lack-of-interest. My brain won’t retain any information about NJ driving laws whatsoever. It doesn’t help that I had a traumatic car crash when I was very young.

So far, I’ve just gotten my mom and coworkers to drive me places, or taken Ubers or trains. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that if I leave NJ, I’ll probably have to get a driver’s license. Although, I’ve already got a carpool set up at my next job in October.

April 7: Talk about autism in the media. Do you think that autism is typically portayed well? Badly? Is there anything you’d like to see more of when it comes to autistic representation? Who are your favorite autistic characters? Do you have any headcanons?

The media that I consume doesn’t really have autistic characters, so I can’t comment on how autistic people are portrayed, except that I’d like us to be portrayed more, period. I’ve only really seen us in teen dramas. To be fair, one of my favorite webcomics, El Goonish Shive, is a teen drama, and has a great autistic character (Susan). I’d say I identify with her, but not really. It’s very hard for me to identify with people, fictional or nonfictional, because my neurotype is greatly influenced by autism, DID, chronic depression, and gender dysphoria, and you don’t see combinations of traits in media that come even close to that.

Speaking of another teen drama, I wish I were half as cool as Matilda from Everything’s Gonna Be Okay. I guess that makes her my favorite canon autistic character, but that’s pretty easy, because I don’t know any other ones. I can’t say that I wanna hug her, because she doesn’t like that, but her general substitute for hugs is dancing, and I can’t dance. I guess I’d learn how, to show my appreciation for her.

Archer from Archer is probably autistic. I like him a lot.

April 8: What are some misconceptions/stereotypes about autism that you hate?

“Hating” is not something I can really do, even when it’s recommended to do it. I haven’t been open about my autism, so I haven’t been exposed to too many misconceptions or stereotypes about it firsthand, anyway. I guess if I had to pick, it would be whatever made my dad call me autistic as an insult and use a bunch of ableist slurs at me a whole lot. I don’t know how he understands autism, however. He doesn’t seem to realize that he has it himself. (It’s not usually one’s place to diagnose other people like that, but one of the most degrading things that my mom says to me very often is that I’m exactly like my father. He even has some traits that I don’t, like touch-aversion and samefoods.)

April 9: How sensitive are you when it comes to touch? Are you pro hug or anti hug?

I’m hyposensitive. I’m really losing it here under this quarantine. I had a girlfriend who always made me feel so respected whenever she responded to my touch-based needs, by squeezing me, hugging me, or otherwise cuddling me very tight, but then she broke up with me because of my mental health issues, and because her parents hated me and her friends were made very uncomfortable by me.

April 10: Do you have trouble understanding when someone is being sarcastic or joking?

It depends. I think I’m as good at it as I’ll ever be, and my false negative rate is under 0.5 (and my false positive rate is very low, but not 0). But I don’t think the same thing goes on in my head as in neurotypical people’s heads when I determine something to be a joke. I almost explicitly do a Bayesian calculation; “Based on what I know about this person and this context, how well can I imagine them meaning this statement unironically in this context? How well can I imagine them meaning this statement ironically in this context?” It’s pretty automatic now, but sometimes it doesn’t work very well, when I’m not so familiar with the person and/or the context, and occasionally the intended interpretation of the statement.

[thesixthh0ekage]

fic previews

here are some of the things I have in progress-- y’all tell me what you’re feelin.

1. mile high club (t’challa x reader)

The sound of your feet pounding against the linoleum flooring is deafening but you can’t deny the odd sense of euphoria that’s been building since you tripped the alarm.

What had started as a quiet Wednesday afternoon with Tony down in the labs at the compound had then turned into a surprise visit from your boyfriend-- T’Challa Udaku, King of Wakanda and the Black Panther himself. However you would soon find out that this wasn’t a personal visit. The King had received intel from one of his many spies abroad regarding the whereabouts of one of Klaue’s former associates, and a small quantity of vibranium that had found its way into one of New York City’s swanky, high-rise offices. He’d stopped by the avengers compound with the hope of enlisting a certain spider’s help infiltrating the building, only to find out she was away on personal leave for the next few days.

T’Challa was prepared to scrap that plan and try sneaking in without any sort of distraction… that is until Okoye brilliantly suggested that you be the distraction instead. You’d jumped at the opportunity, though convincing T’Challa to let you help was another task in itself.

He wanted you safe, above all things, and he knew that allowing you to accompany him on this mission was certainly not conducive to such wishes. Not to mention the fact that he’d never hear the end of it if anything happened to you because of this-- you were Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes’ favorite-- read, only-- goddaughter, after all, never mind the fact that you’d never done anything of the sort in your life.

He had made that point to you-- several times in fact-- though in the end he was outnumbered. Your enthusiasm coupled with not only Okoye, but Shuri and Ayo’s insistence as well? The King never stood a chance against such odds.

So that’s how you ended up here, streaking through the halls of some stuffed-shirt CEO’s Manhattan penthouse-- and boy is it a long way down from the 60th floor.

You feel… giddy, despite the way your lungs burn with every breath, and suddenly you’re laughing out loud.  

Who knew running for your life could be this fun?!

“What is going on up there, mnadi? Do you have it?”

The sudden sound of T’Challa’s voice over the comms sends a jolt through you and you nearly trip over your own feet rounding a corner at full speed. You choose to ignore the sound of gunfire in the background.

“Oh yeah,” you huff, looking down at the map your kimoyo beads are projecting. Left at the next intersection. How the hell have you lived so long without these things?! “I most definitely have it!”

“What did I tell you, eh?!” Your face splits into a shit-eating grin when you hear Okoye chime in-- you practically feel T’Challa roll his eyes. “I knew she could do it!”

“Do not encourage her!” The King scolds, but despite his attempt to be firm you can both hear the amusement in his voice.  

“Oh it is way too late for that!” You quip, sassy even as breathless as you are. His hearty laugh echos in your ear, and the sound seems to light up your whole body. Your smile grows even wider.  “I’m clearly a natural!”

2. untiled thor fic

Okay, that’s another one done and only…  

You let the thought trail off and take a moment and survey the scene, counting softly under your breath as you tally up every manila folder and the huge number of unread emails on your computer screen. You make it to thirty-three before you decide that the whole exercise is pointless.

You’ve been cooped up in your office for hours, catching up on emails and sorting through the veritable mountain of paperwork that has collected on your desk in the last few weeks.

It really wasn’t your fault, though. Everyone’s work has suffered due to the whole Sokovia Accords fiasco and, between that and worrying about a certain norse god’s whereabouts, the disaster in your office had naturally taken a back-seat.

Now at the end of it all, you still haven’t succeeded in tracking down Thor and the team is down no less than seven avengers-- the amount of paperwork that came with that kind of scandal was staggering, not to mention the residual fallout from the accident in Lagos.

How the hell did you get stuck dealing with all this Department of Damage Control bullshit, anyway?! The Avengers compound is chaos these days, and lately you were the one people were looking to for answers.

A pained grunt rips through you, and you smack your head against the nearest pile defeat, making a mental note rip Tony a new asshole the next time you see him.

You lift your head from the of files, propping it on your fist instead as you went back to scrolling through your inbox, too fast to really see anything, more so to marvel at how quickly they’ve managed to pile up in the weeks since you’d last checked them.

“Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?” the AI’s voice is patched through to the PA system immediately, filling your once silent office with much needed noise.

“I need some help getting through these emails,” you sigh, massaging your temples. “You up for it?”

“Of course,” is the instant reply, and with that the two of you set to work clearing your inbox of unwanted messages.

It’s boring work, but necessary, and having FRIDAY there to help seems to make the task much faster to complete.

Once the final file has been read and filed correctly, you push away from your desk with a heavy sigh, stretching your legs up off the floor and watching the ceiling spin above you while you try to let your mind settle for a moment.

FRIDAY finishes up an extremely long-winded and condescending email from General Ross’ office, and you throw your hands up in the air with an elated shout.

“Ugh, thank you Jesus that one’s over-- delete it, please! Tony can deal with that bullshit,” you say, propping your feet up on your-- now clean and tidy-- desk. “Alright, FRIDAY, last one. Let’s get this over with.”

You close your eyes as she begins to read, though your brow furrows as soon as you hear the subject line. “An electronic letter from…” FRIDAY hesitates from a moment before continuing, “Thor…?”

3. flipmode (erik stevens x reader)

“Oh fuck, Erik,” you whine, screwing your eyes shut as he continues to slam into you. You arc off the mattress, heels digging into his back in an attempt to bring him in even closer. “Ugh, please just--”

You’re cut off when a particularly powerful thrust sends a jolt up your spine, and stars dance across the back of your lids. The sound you make is pitiful, voice catching on a sob as you feebly struggle against him. Erik doesn’t even pause-- only presses your wrists more firmly into the bed as he continues to rock into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” he asks, and if you didn’t feel so desperate to come you figure you’d feel some sort of pride over how wrecked he sounds. It’s hard to say exactly how long you’ve been at it-- though to you it feels like he’s kept you teetering on the edge for an eternity.

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you-- brown eyes bright and wild.

“Yes,” you say, your voice raw and ragged, “yes, please.”

Erik actually laughs, adjusting his grip on your wrists to hold them in one hand, while the other moves to wrap around your throat again. You clench around him at the feeling, your eyes fluttering closed. “Then you gon’ learn to stop calling me out my fuckin’ name,” he says, and your eyes fly open.

Shit!

He doesn’t give you a chance to defend yourself, or even apologize, before he’s pulling out of you and using the hand on your neck to roughly pull you up to a sitting position.

4. hot sugar (harley quinn x reader)

“What’s your name, sugar?” the sound of a syrupy-sweet voice draws your attention from playing with the rim of your glass, and you look up to find the woman you’ve been eyeing all night staring right back at you.

She bites the end of her straw when you finally meet her eyes, the sultry smirk spread across her face a bit wicked as well. You turn a bit in your bar stool, resting one arm on the bar and reaching out to her with the other.

You introduce yourself, gripping her hand firmly when she offers it to you and she leans forward to look at you through her lashes. “What’s yours?”

She laughs at that, raising one dark eyebrow at you. “I think you know who I am, sweet cheeks.”

You return her devilish smirk with one of your own. True, you’re pretty sure you know exactly who your mystery woman is. If her platinum-blonde hair and multicolored makeup are anything to go by. Well, that and the array of tattoos she has covering her body, most notably the ones on her face and chest, the one on her left shoulder reading Property of Joker. But even with all that you can’t be sure. Gotham is a strange place, and copycats are a dime a dozen in this city.

“I might,” you reply, releasing her hand and turning back to your own drink. “Still, it’s never good to assume, you know? I’d rather ask up front than make an ass of myself.”

In your peripheral you can see her shift closer to you, one of her hands moving to settle on your knee.

“Harley Quinn,” she says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. You realize she’s sizing you up-- trying to determine whether or not you’d be down for the ride.  

“Really?” you ask, raising a brow, and an amused smirk settles on your lips.

She nods, leaning into you even more, her hand trailing a bit higher up your leg. “The one and only.”

5. the ex factor (digger “captain boomerang” x reader)

You freeze outside the door when you hear the first noise. You’d been rummaging through your bag with one hand, trying to find your keys, while balancing your grocery bags with the other, and you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t even realized the sounds were coming from inside your place until you’d been about to step inside.

Your first instinct is to be afraid, but as you listen you find that the sounds are quite different from what you’d expect to hear from someone sacking your apartment.

A/N: these are some (but not even all!) of the fics I have in progress. Some i have been working on longer than others, and I’m workin on eventually getting through them all. Which ones would you guys like to see first?

[reformedkingsmanagent]

Hi hi, I was reading one of your post saying you were a sucker for Charlie's beard in TGC and well, an idea came to mind (cuz that beard? Hell yeah). Can I request a prompt where the reader loves having beard burn (on the neck, or inner thighs for a splash of NSFW), I'd love to see what you could make with all this... 👀 thanks love!

AN: This is very long. All I’m going to say is I guess I realllllllllly wanted to write some TGC!Charlie because once I started I just couldn’t stop. Prepare for some smut too. (nsfw)

Prompt: Gloriously-Beardy Charlie

Pairing: Charlie x reader

Word Count: 7165 (haha…yikes)

Warnings: Language, sex, Charlie with a beard (come on, it’s lethal)

Whenever Charlie needed anything, he came to you. You knew the things he requested most frequently, and you usually were able to order it in advance of him asking so he wouldn’t have to wait for it. Most people would just say you were very good at your job, which you were, but you had a special interest in Charlie. You frequently daydreamed about the bionic man, wondering what it would be like for him to pay attention to you. Sure, he talked to you whenever there was time, but he was always so busy with Poppy’s errands that you didn’t see him as much as you would like.

You were personally responsible for his current beard, and he didn’t have a clue. Well, at this point he probably did, but does it matter? Supposedly, you had been unable to receive the exact razor he liked, but you should be getting them “any day now” which wasn’t true at all. You could have ordered them anytime you wanted, but you hadn’t. You loved his beard, it suited him incredibly well. You would do anything to prevent its disappearance. Well, maybe not anything, but it was steadily becoming your favorite feature of his. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering what it would feel like brushing against the inside of your thighs and you’d have to scold yourself. You knew he was starting to catch on. It was inevitable, you just hoped he didn’t get angry with you. You didn’t think he was the type, but you didn’t really know him that well.

It was hard to get things here in Cambodia. For the crew stationed at Poppyland, getting anything themselves meant they would have to traverse a very active minefield and a large section of jungle before they reached any sort of civilization. That was why you did what you did. On Mondays, you usually received most of your orders from the previous week. That meant that after sorting through everything and conducting an inventory check, you spent the following day divvying everything up. Poppy’s items were always sent to her room, while everyone else got theirs as you saw them. You were friendly with everyone around the compound, save a few unsavory characters. This line of work didn’t attract the most model citizens, but a lot of them were quite nice.

“I’m not going to even set myself up for the disappointment.” You heard Charlie’s voice from behind you, and you suppressed the urge to smile. He walked over to you as you carried a bundle of various requests in a bag around the compound. He glanced into the bag as you dug around in it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You tossed a big bag of M&Ms towards Michael, who caught them and waved. Everyone was a bit less conversational with you whenever Charlie was around. You didn’t know if they were afraid of him, but there was some reason for it. Charlie found what he was looking for and clutched the container of tea to his chest as if it was the most important thing in the world.

“Oh I think you do.” He looked at you, suspicion evident in the way his eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows, normally straight across, were bent down in scrutiny. It was such a strong look that you had a hard time hiding your reaction to seeing him so close. “You like this?” He ran his knuckles along his jaw, along his growing beard. You heard something in his voice that gave you pause. You couldn’t place it, but it activated a primal emotion set that you did your best to bury.

“Why would I care about that?” You sounded less than convincing to your own ears. You quickly looked away from him and continued your rounds, passing along a new book to someone else. He surprisingly followed you. You had hoped he would drop it and head back now that he got what he came for. You had a hard time dealing with his intensity in person, and in such large doses. You would prefer to admire him from afar. It was safer for you, anyway. You didn’t know if there were consequences for falling for Poppy’s right-metal hand-man as the conversation had never come up, but you weren’t about to find out.

“You can’t hide the flush in your cheeks from me.” You felt your stomach drop. Doing your best to ignore him, you continued on. “I see how you react to me. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Oh shit. Hell no. Absolutely not. He seemed to take your silence as an invitation to continue. You saw the raised eyebrow of the guard in front of you as you passed him his requested items and tried not to think of how this must look. How dare Charlie do this to you in front of other people. “I don’t bite, you know.” Oh god, this can’t be happening. “Unless, of course, you want me to.” You widened your eyes at his last remark and whipped around, smacking him in the leg with the bag you had slung over your shoulder on accident. You pushed him back, away from the guard. You could feel the firmness of his chest beneath your hands, but that was irrelevant.

“Will you shut up!” You angrily whispered. He didn’t seem deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was smiling. You pointed a finger at his chest, pressing hard. “You don’t get to embarrass me in front of everyone.” His smile faltered, and he didn’t move as you turned around and walked away.

“Charlie, stop bothering that poor girl.” Poppy closed the computer in front of her, focusing her attention on the now-distracted man. He had wandered into the diner after his encounter with you, massaging the source of pain in the center of his chest and feeling a little unsteady. He certainly hadn’t meant to upset you. He was doing his best to flirt with you, but maybe he had come on a little too strong. “She’s the best employee we have. We would be a mess without her. It’s very important, giving them some creature comforts. They’d be too restless otherwise. We don’t have anyone who could possibly replace her.”

Poppy always had a plan, always had an explanation for everything. It was what he admired most about her. This current situation defied explanation, however. He didn’t know what to do. “I’m not bothering her, just…” He couldn’t explain himself to Poppy without feeling a little uncomfortable. She was practically a mother to him at this point, but he couldn’t talk to her about you.

“You’re bothering her. If she’s not interested, leave her alone. We need her.” Poppy reclined in her desk chair, resting her feet up on the corner of her desk. She glanced out the window next to her and observed her domain functioning as it should.

“But I’m pretty sure she is interested.” He sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk, resting his chin on his metal hand. Now that he was here, discussing it, he hoped Poppy could help him. He thought you were interested in him if your constant blushing and guarded behavior around him was any indication. Maybe Poppy could give him some good advice.

“Have you bothered asking her?” She glanced over at him, her hands neatly folded over her stomach. “You can’t guess at that sort of thing.”

“Well, no, but I-”

“So just ask her.” The thought of simply walking up and bluntly questioning her feelings didn’t feel right. Before he could say anything to Poppy, she let out a groan. “Look, here’s your opportunity to make up for what you just did. I swear, we need to get rid of him.”

Charlie followed her eyes and noticed that Sal had taken the bag you were carrying earlier and was going through it. You stood near him, arms crossed over your chest. If he weren’t twice your size, Charlie was sure Sal would be regretting that. But Charlie could certainly help with that. As he walked towards the doors leading out of the diner, Poppy called out to him. “Don’t break anything, please!”

“If you wanted something, you should have asked for it. You can’t take things from other people just because you’re lazy.” You stood, waiting for Sal to return your bag. “Come on, give it back. I actually have work to do, unlike you.” You held your hand out for the bag, watching him rummage through it with an annoyed look on your face. Sal was always a thorn in your side. Those unsavory characters you mentioned before? He was at the top of that list.

“You should listen to her.” Charlie’s voice was deep and threatening and you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you, but you were still aggravated at how he made you feel earlier. You weren’t glad he decided to intervene. You could handle this yourself. You did on days he wasn’t here. This wasn’t new behavior from Sal.

Sal looked up at Charlie, not at all intimidated. That was a mistake. “Look at you, metal man, coming out here to defend your girl.” Whoa, big mistake.

Both you and Charlie reacted immediately, though to different things. “I am not his girl.”

“Metal man?” Charlie nearly yelled.

Sal looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Better get your stories straight, eh? Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows what?!” You reached out, grabbing Sal’s shirt in your hand. It probably wasn’t as threatening as you intended, but it got the message across. You weren’t messing around.

Charlie took a step forward, placing a shiny hand on your shoulder. You noticed it in your peripheral vision before he even touched you. “We should talk.” You let go of Sal and looked up at Charlie. Why today? Why did he have to do this today? This was more contact than you’d had with him in weeks, all rolled into one morning. Charlie held out his other hand to Sal, who dutifully handed over the bag but not before taking the only thing you had ordered for yourself.

“Not that, please-”

“Put it back,” Charlie growled, again putting his deeper voice on display. Sal sighed and dropped the item back in the bag. He walked away, grumbling about something under his breath. Once Sal was out of earshot, Charlie turned to you. “Hey, I-”

“I didn’t need your help, you know.” You took the bag from him and shrugged off his hand on your shoulder, replacing its weight with the strap of the bag. You moved some things around in the bag, trying to organize it again as you spoke. “I’m not some helpless little girl you have to protect, I can handle things myself-”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He stopped you from turning around by grabbing your upper arms gently. “I know you can handle yourself. I never doubted that.” You avoided looking at him, instead shrugging off his gentle grip and walking away. Charlie was at a loss. He didn’t know how to approach you without making you uncomfortable or upset. He turned to face the diner, where he spotted Poppy watching the exchange. He threw his hands in the air and she suppressed a smile.

You walked down the hallway, towel-drying your hair. You had changed into some cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt after your shower, hoping to have a chance to relax for a bit. On your way back to your room, you noticed Charlie headed your way, a towel thrown over his shoulder. You kept your head down, hoping he would keep walking. You were conflicted when he passed right by you, not saying anything at all. It was the outcome you had hoped for, but you still couldn’t deny that you wanted his attention. There was something about him that both pleased and vexed you. Perhaps it was that you didn’t know if you were even allowed to have feelings for him that made you angry with him, as if it was all his fault.

You got settled in your room, sitting up in your bed with a book open in your lap. Your bag sat on the floor next to your boots, finally empty. You had no other commitments for the rest of the day. Poppy had told you to spend the rest of your evening relaxing, so that’s exactly what you planned to do. You didn’t have the guts to discuss Charlie with her, and you weren’t sure if you ever would. Whenever you were speaking with her at her desk in the diner, you would catch the shine of the grinder out of the corner of your eye and get nervous. You yourself hadn’t been required to undergo the recruitment test that the other men had, and you were thankful, but you kept waiting for the day where she would ask that of you. You weren’t sure if you would be able to do it.

Unable to focus, you slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the desk, running your hands over your face in exasperation. You should have never agreed to come out here. Why had you come out here? You couldn’t even remember anymore. Maybe you needed to leave. You didn’t know if you even could. You reached over your shoulder to touch the ring of gold burned into your skin. You could feel the raised outline of it through your shirt. You wouldn’t be able to forget this place.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” You whipped your head around to see Charlie in the doorway, towel slung low around his hips. You could still see drops of water on his shoulders. The arm and its harness were gone. He must have just left the shower. Your mouth fell open in your attempt to reply, but you couldn’t form the words as your eyes roamed his bare chest for the first time. Thinking about running your fingers through the hair on his chest had you gripping the comforter tightly in your hands.

“Uh, maybe put some clothes on first?” You looked away from him and instead focused on the comforter you were holding on to. You started picking at it, pulling at a loose thread. A weight settling at the edge of the bed forced you to look up. You could see the muscles in his back as he leaned forward, his elbow on his thigh. You reached out and ran a finger across his shoulder blade and instantly recoiled once you touched his hot skin. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You brought your legs up to your chest to make yourself as small as possible. You didn’t think you could blush any harder than you currently were. You could see him smiling, and you got angry all over again. “What are you doing here, Charlie?”

“I wanted to talk to you, remember?” He looked over his shoulder at you, his blue eyes roaming over your face. He had a serious look on his face, and between that and his posture he somehow managed to appear vulnerable.

“O-okay then, talk.” You wrapped your arms around your knees, keeping them pulled up against your chest. You did that mostly so you didn’t accidentally touch him again.

“Why are you always so angry with me?” He asked. That was a loaded question. If you answered it honestly, you’d really mess things up. If you lied, then you’d only grow angry with yourself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to work on it.” You avoided his gaze as you sidestepped around his question.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Of course it wasn’t. What he was asking for you to explain was the root of all your problems with him. Your fear of your own feelings, and the possible consequences of making them known. Though it was certainly pleasurable, you didn’t want to be distracted by Charlie if you knew it couldn’t happen. And it shouldn’t. Maybe if you explained that to him, he would leave you alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned. “Alright, fine.” He sat up straight, turning to face you. You avoided eye contact and steeled yourself so you could focus on explaining it to him. “I only get angry with you because I am interested in you-”

“You are?” You ignored his interruption, opting to continue with what you were saying before you left some important detail out.

“But I know it’s not going to happen. Poppy would probably flip if she knew, and I kind of like living. I appreciate everything you do to try to help me, but having you around is a constant reminder of all the things I shouldn’t be feeling. So…maybe just keep your distance. That would probably be easier.” There, you finally said it. He would have to understand the consequences you would face. You could go back to your brief greetings, and things would stay the same. “I’ll still get you your stuff-”

“Poppy knows.” Those two words sent your comfort level rocketing down to depths you didn’t know you could feel. Instantly you felt your arms trembling and you squeezed them tighter around your knees. You had just spoken with her, and she knew? Oh god, how on earth had you- “She knows how I feel, anyway.” You looked up at his words, knowing none of that could help you. He wasn’t the one who would experience the consequences.

“Poppy is going to kill me for all this.” You mumbled it, but he still heard you. He reached out and laid his hand on your knee. You felt the roughness of his skin and you forced yourself to remain present and coherent as you thought about what his hand would feel like all over. You shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“No she’s not.” He gave your knee a squeeze and you forced yourself to move away from him, standing up next to the desk. “She’s more worried about me scaring you off than anything else.” He stood up, getting close to you. As his face neared yours, you turned your head. How had this whole situation transformed so quickly? You still couldn’t allow yourself to react to him. He still felt forbidden and out of reach. You didn’t like the confusing mixture of emotions running through you. Everything was at odds with each other in your mind.

“You should go.” You lifted your hands to create a barrier, but you came into contact with his abdomen on your way up. You felt him suck in a breath. You smoothed your hands up his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath your fingers. You stopped at his collarbone, enjoying the feeling of him. You noticed his eyes fall closed, and you immediately dropped your hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?” You moved your hands to cover your face, but the brief memory of the way he felt under your palms prevented you from touching anything. You were absolutely overwhelmed and more conflicted than you had ever been in your life. “Charlie, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I-”

You felt his hand on your cheek and you jumped but then settled into his touch. He lifted your face to look up at him and offered you a gentle smile. “Just breathe. You need to relax. I can go, but I want you to think about this, to consider this. I’ll respect your wishes if you want me to leave you alone. Just say the word.” You nodded and he took a step back, releasing your face. Your skin burned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You nodded again, and offered him the best smile you could muster, which wasn’t much with how little control you had over your emotions at present, but he seemed satisfied. He backed out of the room and left you standing there, heart in your throat. What on earth were you supposed to do now?

You didn’t see him at all the next day, or the day after that. Or at all the next week, either. You let yourself feel responsible. Poppy had sent him away, you just knew it. And it was all because of you. The time without him around allowed you to attempt to sort out your feelings. You felt obligated to tell him, but he wasn’t around. Your frustration grew as more time passed without him making any contact. You had decided that night that you only had two options that wouldn’t slowly drive you insane.

You could either attempt to leave, praying you didn’t step on a landmine on your way out, or you could stay and come to terms with whatever it was that Charlie might feel for you. That also meant allowing yourself to admit what you felt towards him. Both options were intimidating, but you knew you would have a hard time going back to how things were, now that you knew you wouldn’t be decapitated by Poppy. She had actually been pretty nice to you in Charlie’s absence, but she avoided talking about him.

You still ordered his tea for him and left it in his room. You also finally ordered his razors and left them waiting for him too. You didn’t feel like lying to him anymore. After the second week and still nothing from him, you started to get worried. Had he left for good? Was that why Poppy refused to talk about him being gone from the compound for so long?

You marched over to the theater in the darkness and pulled open the door, ignoring the guard who attempted to stop you. You stomped down the aisle, blinking at the garish lighting effects as Elton John performed onstage. At your entrance he paused and the music was cut altogether. Poppy turned around in her large chair and brought the microphone up to her face. “Y/N, what brings you here?”

“Where is he? He’s been gone for so long, something must have happened to him.” You stopped once you were standing in front of her and she turned the microphone off, setting it in the empty chair beside her, a chair reserved for Charlie, you realized.

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to worry about him, he’ll be back soon. But don’t worry, I’ll let him know how much you miss him the next time I talk to him.” You frowned.

“The next time you- when is soon?” Now that you knew he was alright, you allowed yourself to calm down a little.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I would imagine within a couple of days. My plant in Italy should be entirely self-sufficient by then.” Italy. He was in Italy. He wasn’t in danger, and he was probably even having fun. It soured your mood a little bit. He couldn’t have found some way to contact you at all during the last couple of weeks? Especially after the last conversation you had?

There was nothing to be done about it. You would just have to keep waiting. You felt embarrassed for storming in there and disrupting things. “I’m sorry.” You stepped around the large chair and marched back out of the theater. You could hear her voice through the speakers as the door closed behind you. You stuck your hands in your pockets and headed back to your room. Soon was better than never, you supposed.

“What the fuck is this?” You felt the mattress dip and you turned over sleepily, trying to see in the dark. You couldn’t see much of anything so you reached over and turned on your bedside lamp which ended up being too bright so you shut it off again. You heard familiar laughter and felt the bed shaking. Charlie.

“It’s not funny.” You mumbled, irritated. But that was short-lived because he was back, and far sooner than you expected.

“You thought you were fooling me all this time? And now you give me these?” He dropped the pack of razors on your stomach and you felt in the darkness for it. “It’s not like anyone else started growing a beard. Why’d you hide these from me?”

“I like your beard,” you confessed in your groggy state. “And if you were so smart, why didn’t you take some from someone else?” You groaned and sat up, giving him more space to sit on the twin bed.

You could just make out his features in the light coming in through the window. He was smiling, but there was something else there that you couldn’t decipher, not yet at least.

“Because I figured there was a reason for all this. I just wanted to let it play out.” You felt cold metal against the side of your face and you leaned into it, putting your hand over his bionic one. “I wish I could feel that,” he breathed.

“Here.” You reached for his other hand blindly, coming into contact with his forearm in the darkness. You both chuckled for a moment before you placed his other hand on the other side of your face, covering that hand too. He smoothed his thumb across your cheek and let out a breath. “You were gone for a long time.” He paused his movements. “I thought I knew exactly what I would say to you when you got back, but I don’t even remember it now,” you confessed. “But, um, I guess it would be important to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me alone.” You could hear your own heartbeat in the silence that followed. You worried that maybe you misunderstood or that he might have changed his mind during his absence and you felt uneasy. “I’m sorry if-”

You felt him pull you in and you were cut off by his lips pressing firmly against yours. Your hands left his and traveled up his neck. You finally let yourself touch his beard with your fingers, scratching it a little, enjoying the way it scraped against your skin. You didn’t do a good job of suppressing your groan as he opened his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss you had imagined receiving for a while now. What you had invented in your mind didn’t even come close to actually having him there, his hot mouth and full lips proving to be the tools of your own destruction.

He got closer to you, releasing his hold on your face to throw off his thin jacket. He then let his hands rest on your sides, fingers teasing at the skin under the hem of your thin camisole. You held the back of his head, keeping his mouth firmly on yours despite your need for air. You let your other hand slide from his jaw, down the front of his neck, fingers gently trailing over the device on his throat as they made their way down to rest against his chest. He separated from you, both of you breathing heavily. “Does it bother you?” He panted, gesturing towards his throat in the darkness.

You sat up in the bed, throwing off the covers. “Why on earth would that bother me, Charlie? Of course it doesn’t.” You moved over to him and gently tilted his chin up, exposing his throat. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal there and you felt him swallow in reaction. You stayed at his neck, moving off to the side to press kisses there, continuing down until you ran into the collar of his shirt.

“Uh, here I’ve got to-” He reached for the straps of the harness and you moved his hands away.

“Let me.” You could see the vulnerability in his eyes despite the poor lighting as he hesitantly dropped his hands. He hadn’t recovered from this, not mentally. You felt for the buckles and shamelessly took advantage of being able to run your hands all over his chest. You felt him giggle at one point and you liked that you seemed to be putting him at ease. You gently undid the buckle along his abdomen first, followed by the one that ran across his chest diagonally. You didn’t want to mess them up, so you carefully bundled them up and reached over to set them on your desk. You had the wide strap left, which covered his shoulder. You ran your hand up his side and he let his head fall on your shoulder with a gasp.

“I should let you do this every day.” You smiled to yourself, leaning your head against his. It was somehow incredibly intimate. You would certainly do this anytime he asked. You unsnapped the largest of the buckles and followed the wider band up to remove the rest of the harness at the base of his shoulder. You were doing this blind, his head on your shoulder preventing you from actually seeing the harness. “There’s, uh, one more, it’s hard to find, I can do it.” He sat up and reached over with his left hand and you watched as he unclasped the smallest of the buckles which wrapped around the metal arm itself. Now that the harness was loose, he pulled it away and tossed it on the floor. “Do you want me to keep it on?” He meant the arm.

“What do you want?” You asked. He thought about it for a moment before he twisted the arm in an unnatural direction and pulled it away from his shoulder, looking around for a place to put it. “I can set it over here, on the desk,” you offered. You held up your hands and he gently lowered it into your arms. You stood up and walked over to the desk, setting it down with a gentle thud. When you turned around to return to the bed, he was standing, leaning to compensate for the missing weight on his right side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You could see him better now that he was standing in front of the window. He stepped further into the light coming in from the window and reached down to pull his shirt off over his head. You watched his muscles flex as the shirt rose, exposing more and more of him until it was lying on the floor with his jacket and harness. He quickly undid his belt and pants and kicked them off as well. He kept his black boxer briefs on. He stood up straight, still leaning a little to the side, but you thought he looked perfect. You let yourself approach him, lightly running a finger along his collarbone. He let a smile flicker across his face and his breathing changed. “Now let me take care of you.”

He bent down and wrapped his arm around your thighs, picking you up easily. Your hands instinctively went for his shoulders to support yourself, but he was very careful with you. He carried you back to the bed and slowly lowered you down, staying over you. He supported himself with his arm as he kissed you again. You only got to taste him for a moment before he started pressing sloppy kisses down your neck. You kept one hand wrapped around his bicep, giving him gentle squeezes as he nipped at your skin here and there, and the other rested lightly on the back of his head as he moved lower. You noticed his right shoulder move and he looked down at the missing arm, a little distracted. You realized what he had tried to do and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his hip. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You cupped his cheeks with both hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.” You were serious. You hated that he even felt the need to apologize in the first place. He looked down at you as if seeing you for the first time, a bit of wonder in his expression.

“How are you real?” You flushed and let go of his face. “What do I have to do to keep you happy?” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to your breast, biting down through the thin cotton camisole. You were not expecting that. The fluttery feeling low in your abdomen strengthened, and you arched your back, pushing your chest up harder against his mouth. You let out a moan and reached back up to hold his bicep again, squeezing tightly. “That? Is that what you want?” He spoke against the fabric, his lips brushing against your nipple. He bit down again once he was done talking.

“Oh, god yes,” you whispered. He moved lower, to the hem of the shirt you were still wearing. You wanted to squeeze your thighs shut, but he was between them already and you just ended up squeezing your legs tighter around him. His nose brushed against the skin of your abdomen and you jumped. You felt him smile into your skin as he pressed a kiss there.

His beard was comfortingly scratchy against your skin as he moved up, nudging the shirt up as best as he could. You realized he was improvising in the removal of your shirt due to him supporting all his weight on his good arm. You sucked in a breath as his nose nudged against the underside of your breast. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You let go of his arm and reached down to grab the shirt and pull it off over your head.  You hadn’t realized you were sweating until the fabric left you and the cold air replaced it. He took advantage of your momentary distraction and returned his mouth to your chest, sucking hard on the sensitive skin, intent on leaving a mark. You let your head fall back and you scratched your nails over his scalp soothingly, enjoying the feeling of the fuzzy softness of his buzzed hair under your fingertips.

He ground his hips down into yours and you felt him firm against you. You felt a dull ache between your legs, as well as the sensation of being profoundly hollow. “Oh, Charlie, please-” you moaned.

“Fuck yes, tell me what you want.” He did his best to catch his breath, chilling the moist skin where he had surely left a bruise. He brought himself back up so he was mostly level with you and pressed a firm, wet kiss to the side of your neck. “What do you want, love, what do you need from me?” You could feel his arm shaking a little, and you realized he had been supporting all of his body weight the entire time.

“Hey, relax.” You reached up and ran your hand up and down his arm. “Rest for a second.” He let his weight settle on you with a sigh and you could tell it bothered him. You ran your hands up and down his back as he breathed, his arm stretched out for a moment at his side. You loved the skin to skin contact, as sweaty as you both were.

“This is so frustrating,” you heard him say.

“Don’t,” you warned him. “Now turn over.”

“What?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I need you to turn over,” you repeated. He pushed against the mattress until he was sitting up, allowing you to get out from under him and stand for a moment. You caught him watching you as he settled down, flat on his back. You pushed your thin shorts and underwear down your legs, stepping out of them before returning to the bed. You pulled his underwear down his long legs with a smile, tossing them on the ever-growing pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.

He reached down but you got there first, wrapping your small hand around him, giving him a few experimental pumps. He let out what you would describe as a whine before letting his head fall back against the pillow. After a few more strokes, you added your mouth. His head shot up and you could hear his moans as he attempted to protest. His mouth hung open, but he couldn’t speak. You watched the rise and fall of his chest. His large hand smoothed your hair out of the way, holding it in a loose bun at the base of your head. He didn’t attempt to push your head down, though you felt his fingers flexing in your hair. You took your time tasting him, listening for his breathing to pause, learning what he liked.

“Babe, come here,” he managed, gently pulling at your hair. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” You released him reluctantly and wiped your mouth before sitting up. He was pink from his chest to his cheeks, and he still hadn’t recovered. You felt that ache again as you looked him over, seeing just how not composed he was.

He reached down and brushed his knuckles along the inside of your thigh. You jumped back, completely unprepared for the throbbing you felt between your legs as a result. “Come here,” he repeated. You raised an eyebrow at him, hand moving to your thigh where he had touched you, hoping to dull the sensation. It didn’t work.

He lost his patience and sat up, hand firmly grabbing your hip and pulling you down closer to the middle of the mattress, you naturally falling back. He spread your thighs and your mind went through all the times where you imagined what this would be like. “Is this what you were thinking of when you started hiding my razors?” He lightly ran his jaw along the inside of your thighs, leaving you speechless. You whimpered. You wanted to feel the rawness between your thighs when he was done with you. A reminder of what he-

“Is it?” He ran his tongue along your slit, applying light pressure once he reached that wonderful bundle of nerves. You could feel his beard scratching the sensitive skin along the insides of your thighs and you almost lost it right then. He flattened his tongue against you and paused to look up at you. You could feel the throbbing of your clit against the stillness of his tongue. You wondered if he felt it too. If you could have one picture, you wished it was that, him looking up at you like that. He kept his hand pressed into your abdomen, anchoring you so you couldn’t get up. “Is it?” He repeated.

You finally nodded. “Yes, yes exactly this.”

You watched him smile. “Good, me too.” Oh, fuck. Did he just admit to having the same fantasy as you?

You moaned loudly as he continued the expert use of his tongue, squealing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your hands went for his hair, but there was nothing to grab onto. He laughed into you and you wanted to hit him for it. He continued his slow but methodical teasing, and you felt everything all at once. The pull of his mouth on your hot center, the sweat practically dripping down the back of your legs, the irritation on the insides of your thighs, his hand forcing you down into the mattress. “Fuck, Charlie, I’m-”

“That’s it, come for me. You can do it.” He punctuated his words with more hot wet pressure and that was all it took. You mumbled a string of curses under your breath as his grip on you tightened. He alternated levels of pressure as your legs attempted to close around his head. He moved his hand from your abdomen to your thigh to prevent you from closing your legs as he made sure you finished completely. You fell back, completely limp and panting. He kissed the inside of one of your thighs and sat up. “You’re fucking amazing,” he spoke, looking down at you. He ran a hand across his chin.

You moved to sit up, wanting to reward him with a huge kiss but he leaned over you. He buried his face in your neck and relaxed. You let your hands explore his back, slowly raking your fingernails up and down. He gave you less than a minute before he pushed into you. You hissed, still extremely sensitive. He filled you easily as you were already swollen and slick.

“Fucking hell, Charlie.” You pulled his face up to yours and captured his open mouth in a searing kiss. You let one of your hands reach next to your head to rub his arm while you met his deep thrusts with a roll of your hips. He cursed to himself and rested his forehead against your collarbone, doing his best to maintain a steady pace. You were already close again as he picked up the pace, his thrusts quick and deep. He had to be close because he kept mumbling your name under his breath. You came again, your spasms bringing him right down with you. He grunted and was able to manage a few more good thrusts before he fell on top of you, weak and completely spent.

You ran your hands up and down his spine gently, teasingly, his body heat protecting you from the chill as the air hit the perspiration on every exposed inch of your skin. “I missed you,” you confessed. “I was worried you had left me here.”

He breathed deeply before replying. “It was only supposed to take a few days, or so I was told.” He moved onto his back and you rolled over to rest your cheek on his chest, keeping one of his long legs trapped between yours. He reached over and pulled the comforter up over the both of you. “Once I got there, it was clear that they had been embellishing their progress.”

He found one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours. “But I realized something while I was stuck on that freezing mountain- without a sat phone, if you can believe it.” He smiled, smoothing a thumb over the top of your hand.

“What?” You asked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He looked down at you and kissed your swollen lips.

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” You were struck by his confession. He studied you, trying to see what your reaction would be. His blue eyes glowed. You didn’t expect anything like this from him, but you were definitely glad to hear it.

“I’m a little bit in love with you too.” You were certain of it. He had the biggest grin on his face. He kissed your forehead and you relaxed against him.

“Get some rest, love.” He kissed the back of your hand and settled in, keeping your linked hands on his chest. “We can talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

[myupdatestudio-blog]

New Post has been published on Myupdatestudio

New Post has been published on https://myupdatestudio.com/how-mild-from-gadgets-affects-health/

How mild from gadgets affects health

Generation, and mild from Era, have entered our living and snoozing spaces in a big manner in recent years. Even as the blessings of power, inside the form of bulbs, tube lights, and entertainment gadgets, have made it less complicated for human beings to continue their work and entertainment on every occasion they need, the light from gadgets has started affecting our fitness.

                                               Gadgets Affects

A massive source of concern is the `blue light’.

What is BLUE light?

The mild spectrum includes ultraviolet, infrared and seen rays. Blue light is a part of visible rays and has the highest power wave period.

Blue mild is part of our each day requirement from sunlight that helps us live alert, assists memory and elevates mood. Psychologists are known to prescribe `solar remedy’ to their sufferers for the equal reason.

Synthetic IS THE Culprit

While we have constantly been uncovered to blue light from the solar, specialists have started out to fear approximately a boom in publicity from digital devices.“In present instances, humans are becoming exposed to many different resources of blue mild such as LEDs, CFLs, capsules, televisions and computer screens.

There may be no question that the exposure of blue light is on the upward push. This cumulative exposure over the years has the capability to damage the photoreceptors in our retina -the light-touchy a part of the eyes -which in turn slowly leads to blindness,” says Dr. Santhosh Chidangil, professor and head of a branch of Atomic and Molecular Physics at Manipal University.

BLUE CAN Travel DEEP

“The human eye is sensitive to the visible elements of the spectrum. Anyone knows how ultraviolet rays are dangerous to the eyes and skin.Ultraviolet reaches the front part of the eye and is answerable for causing cataract. Blue light has the capability to attain and harm the lower back a part of the attention, leading to retinal damage,” adds Chidangil.high exposure to blue mild can result in imaginative and prescient loss similar to age-related macular degeneration.

Beyond THE EYES

Now not simply eyesight, lengthy-time period publicity to blue light can also doubtlessly cause different issues.“Researchers have shown that mild affects humans bodily by using affecting hormone secretion, coronary heart rate, alertness, sleep propensity, body temperature or even the gene expression.In certain different experiments, it has been proven that blue light can doubtlessly raise frame temperature, heart rate and decrease sleepiness,” says Chidangil.

Cellular Browsing Isn’t Harmless

Ruchika Shah by no means favored watching television, however, the 30-12 months-antique had a habit of scrolling via her Cell phone earlier than sleep. “It has become an addiction once I could not at once burst off to sleep after turning the lighting fixtures off. However after some time, it has become a trap-22 scenario: I used to be on the phone due to the fact I couldn’t sleep and then I couldn’t sleep because I was on my cellphone,” Shah says.Sadly, that addiction took a toll on Shah’s eyesight, which changed into already susceptible. “After nearly six years of my strength No longer converting, my health practitioner advised me that I now have astigmatism,” she says.

Watch out for UV RAYS TOO

Dr. Rajesh R, who works as a representative for vitreous and ocular oncology for Sankara Eye Medical institution, Bengaluru, says that aside from blue mild, one ought to also be aware of ultraviolet rays that have the ability to harm your eyes. “Ultraviolet mild may have dangerous effects on the cornea, lens, and retina. It may cause mild sensitivity, development of cataract and retinal harm,” he says.

Protect Yourself

In gift instances, it is able to be tough to hold oneself faraway from devices that emit blue light, as most are required for our day to day work and enjoyment. However, there are ways to restriction its exposure. “There are many apps on telephones and protective gadgets for the computing device and computer screens that assist you to limit your exposure to blue mild. The apps dispose of blue light from the display screen, giving it an nearly sepia look.

Electronic devices and Interpersonal Conduct

Are youngsters spending an excessive amount of time with their mobile telephones, digital video games, and computer systems? Is this simply a part of growing up in our international of digital devices? Do these devices assist build top relationships or do they preclude interpersonal talents nurturing?

Using through the city, I noticed kids on foot collectively. One texted on a cellular cellphone and the other played a Game Boy or some device. They were strolling collectively, However Not speaking together. Later inside the day, I heard a teen yell to another, “Don’t come over, ship me an or text me.”

before the invention of those digital gadgets, children communicated and occupied their time in another way. My buddies and I were continually looking for some form of physical activities or table games while I was growing up. During the colder months, we had sled riding and other winter sports. a few might even say that the workout helped prevent the youth obesity problems faced through some present day digital system children. A properly-advanced finger muscle, acquired via playing an electronic Game, is not an outstanding bodily exercising!

We did speak at the landline telephone, But we had face-to-face conversations maximum of the time. All of these activities inadvertently taught us a few interpersonal talents. Some of the activities, like soccer, taught us that you may be a celeb through Yourself, However working as a group gained the sport.

people can use electronic devices to speak with different humans. This does offer interaction, even though the other human beings aren’t a bodily gift. Game enthusiasts will contend that a teaming attempt is required to win Some of the activities, and that includes interpersonal competencies.

Is electronic participation as accurate as being there? That could be a matter of opinion. We all see our international via our very own lens or life revel in. It is possible to learn interpersonal talents in lots of different approaches. Developing those interpersonal abilities makes us aware of human Behavior–true and terrible.

Critics say that electronic gadgets have given criminals a brand new manner to have interaction. They perpetrate crimes with prepaid mobile phones and enable crook sports regarding kids over the Net. Others counter by means of pronouncing the protection issue won in having a mobile smartphone is really worth any peripheral troubles. Net safeguards and supervision can Defend youngsters from folks who want to damage them. In addition, law enforcement uses many digital devices to recognize the criminals.

One would possibly conclude that with digital gadgets, you are by no means out of touch. People who live in remote areas can speak with others for pleasure or emergencies. youngsters can attend a cyber faculty rather than a traditional college, getting their schooling over the Internet. Both involve some interpersonal abilities, But does a picture via the PC or voice over the mobile phone permit the same degree of interpersonal ability improvement? Again, it relies upon on the individual perspective.